“Sure,” he said, still looking away. “Pasta sounds great.”
I instructed him to cut up some tomato and capsicum while I browned the beef mince on the stove. It didn’t take us long to make the bolognese, and after I made two bowls, we sat down on the couch. “Do you want to watch something on my laptop?” I asked.
Leo agreed, so I set my laptop on the coffee table and opened a piracy website because I was a cheap student.
“Any preferences?” I asked.
“Something funny,” Leo said. “Oh! I know.”
He leaned forward and typed something, and soon we were watching a British TV show about a group of people living in a disused hospital. I was always sceptical about shows and movies that claimed to be comedic, but this one was genuinely funny, and we laughed out loud several times.
The downside was that it only had six episodes. The upside is that we could finish the whole thing in one night.
“This is one of my favourite shows ever,” Leo said after the third episode, which had ended with Fleabag on the floor in a puddle of curry, talking to Anthony from Bridgerton.
“Is comedy your favourite genre?” I asked.
“I suppose so,” he said. “I don’t like watching sad stuff. Why would I want to make myself miserable on purpose?” He rubbed his stomach.
“Are you still hungry?” I asked. “There’s more pasta if you want it, and I think I have a frozen apple pie in the back of the freezer. Do you want that for dessert?”
He perked up. “Really?” A few seconds later, he dug out the apple pie and read the instructions on the back of the box. “I’m sorry I’m eating all your food,” he said after he stuck the pie in the microwave.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You can treat me next time.”
He grinned. “Deal.”
Once the apple pie was heated up, Leo served up a slice on two plates and handed me one. We finished the rest of the show and complained that there weren’t any more episodes. Outside, the sky was dark blue. It was night.
“Do you need to get home?” I asked.
“I probably should,” he said, “but I don’t want to.”
“You’re welcome to stay.”
“I’d feel bad.”
I poked him with my foot. “I’m sure you do after you ate all my food.”
“You said it was okay,” he protested.
“That was before I watched you devour my entire apple pie.”
“I gave you a slice, and you said you didn’t want any more. Besides, I need a lot of fuel to maintain this.” He flexed an arm.
I laughed and poked him with my foot again. He caught it, hand around the arch. “Do you want a foot massage?” he asked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had one,” I said but didn’t protest as he pushed his thumbs against the underside. It felt nice, actually.
We were both quiet as Leo worked. He wore the same focused expression he had when making his model.
“Winnie,” he asked, “why do you want a boyfriend?”
Wasn't the answer obvious? Although, now that I thought about it, it wasn't easy to put into words.
“I want affection,” I said, eventually.
“But can't you get affection anywhere?”
