Atticus gave me a dry look.
“We could exchange dating advice,” I tried.
His look became even dryer. “I don’t profess to be a dating expert, but I’m pretty sure rule number one of being gay is don’t fall for a straight man.”
“I know, I know, you sound just like my friend Rome.” I took a sip of matcha. “Although Leo might not be completely straight.”
“Well, that wouldn’t surprise me. The way he acted around you reminded me of a little kid with a crush.”
He’s smitten with you.I’d dismissed the notion because Leo said he was straight and because I thought he was that friendly to everyone. When he exchanged pinkie promises with Atticus, I’d learned I wasn’t special.
But maybe I was. At least for a night.
“Although,” Atticus continued, “if he did have a crush, you’d think he’d be more subtle about it.”
While Atticus seemed like the type who’d keep his feelings behind blank expressions and cold words, I doubted Leo had ever been subtle about anything in his life. I thought of his appearance on Friday night, of wavy hair and a tight black compression shirt. I thought of the way he attacked me with kisses. I thought of the noises he made when I touched him where no one else had ever touched him before.
I must’ve been lost in thought because Atticus tapped me very lightly on my wrist. “I do want to take you up on your offer,” he said. “Friends?”
I smiled, and this time, he let me squeeze his hand. He watched me do it with faint interest like I was showing him a special handshake.
“You’re not very touchy, are you?” I asked.
“No, not really,” he said. “Elena doesn’t like touching.”
“What about your other friends?” I asked.
He gave me a flat look.
What about your family?I thought, but didn’t ask.
“I don’t mind this, though,” he said, looking at our hands, then squeezed as he said, “I hope things work out with you and Leo.”
I mustered up a smile and squeezed back. “We’ll see.”
12
After seeing Atticus, I walked home, stopping by a supermarket to buy some groceries. I had just arrived home and started loading everything into the fridge when my phone rang.
I expected it to be my parents — they called a few times a week to make sure I wasn’t dead and, more importantly, that I was studying — but it wasn’t them. It was Leo.
“Hello?” I answered cautiously.
“Hi,” Leo replied. “So, uh. Whatcha doing at the moment?”
I looked at my open fridge, where I was stuffing the vegetable crisper with Granny Smith apples. “Not much, I’m just at home.”
“Can I come over?”
“What, now?”
“…Yeah? If that’s okay?” His voice went quiet. “I want to talk to you.”
“Okay. Sure.” I was glad I sounded nonchalant.
“I’ll head to yours now,” Leo said.
He rang off, and I stared at my overflowing fridge. If he was coming from his place, it’d take him fifteen minutes to arrive. It’d take him a similar amount of time if he was coming from uni.
