“So,” Leo cut in. “How’d you two meet?”
“We went to the same high school,” Atticus said.
“We’ve been friends since year seven,” Elena said. “One day, I was minding my business in science class until this kid marched up to me, pointed at my test tube, and told me I was doing the experiment wrong.”
“That’s not how it happened at all,” Atticus replied, shaking his head. “I was minding my business, and you were sitting onthe other side of the table, swearing because your cabbage juice was turning the colour it was supposed to.”
“I wasn’t swearing,” Elena said. “I was expressing my frustration verbally. ‘Damn it’ isn’t a swear word.”
“It used to be.”
“Where’d you learn that, from those historical romance audiobooks you’re addicted to?”
“They’re not romance books,” Atticus clarified for us. “They’re just historical books with romance subplots in them.”
“Anyway,” Elena cut in, “we’ve been best friends ever since. How long have you two been friends?”
Leo counted on his fingers. “…four, five.”
“Five years?” Elena asked.
“No, five days,” Leo corrected.
She stared at him. “You don’t mean five months? Or five weeks?” she asked.
“No, five days,” I said. “We met on Monday.”
“Oh.” She shot an indecipherable glance at Atticus. “You two seem very close.”
“I told you,” Atticus said quietly. “Leo’s the person who Edwin mistook me for.”
I didn’t want to go through the humiliating mix-up story again. Thankfully, the food we’d ordered arrived, distracting everyone.
Elena used the tongs provided to start dropping the thin slices of meat into the bubbling soup. Afterward, when the meat was cooked brown, we used a ladle with holes to strain out the soup and fish out the food. Leo fished out his meat from the non-spicy soup, and after dropping it in his bowl, he picked up his chopsticks.
“I’m not good at using chopsticks, so don’t judge me too harshly,” he told the table.
I watched him wrangle them. “Not bad,” I said.
He gave me a look. “Don’t lie to me.”
“No, it’s good. Except…maybe hold them a little higher.”
“Higher?” The chopsticks wobbled in Leo’s grip as he tried to adjust his fingers.
“Like this,” I said, showing him with my own hand. When he still struggled to mirror me, I leaned over to adjust his fingers for him.
“I feel like a kid,” he said quietly.
“Don’t,” I said.
“But you’re such a natural.”
“I still had to learn when I was a kid. My parents gave me chopsticks that had a hinge, so they were like training wheels. Do it this way.” I moved his fingers. “It’s easier, and you have more control.”
He tried, opening and closing the chopsticks.
“See? That’s perfect,” I told him.
