12
“Nick,” I sang.
“Mm?” His eyes remained on his notebook. He was writing a complicated equation, and just the sight of it gave me flashbacks to my high school maths class. People often thought that maths and science went together, but I’d always been firmly a science person and only a science person.
“Nicholas,” I said, “stop paying attention to numbers and pay attention to me.” I paused. “Nicholas is your full name, right?”
“Yep. Except my yiayia calls me Nikolaos.”
“Yiayia?”
“My grandma,” he explained. “What do you want?”
A few days had passed since our dinner. That night, we’d talked and made out until Elena returned home, and Nick took that as his cue to leave. I told him he could stay over if he wanted, but he made a vague excuse and left soon after.
Today was the first time we were hanging out since then. I’d asked Nick whether he wanted to study together since we were both on campus, and he’d said yes.
He was probably regretting that decision now.
I nudged his foot with my own. “Nick, I’m bored.”
“Congratulations.” He wrote another line of numbers and symbols. The equation he was currently solving took up almost an entire page.
“Let’s take a break,” I said. “My brain is fried.” Several minutes earlier, I’d paused my chemistry lecture recording after realising I hadn’t taken anything in in the last five minutes.
Nick set his pen down and looked at me, and I fought the urge to sink in on myself like a naughty child.
“Am I being annoying?” I asked and realised the answer was obvious.
“It’s okay. My hand’s cramping anyway.” He stretched out his fingers.
“What is it you’re doing?” I scooted my chair closer to look at his page. “Is this calculus?”
“Linear algebra.”
“What the hell? I didn’t know straight lines could get so complicated.”
Nick shrugged, leaned back in his seat, and exhaled as his eyes fluttered close. He looked incredibly cool doing that—like he was the main character in a movie about a mathematician who made a world-changing discovery.
I told him so, and, as expected, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t be silly,” he said.
“Seriously,” I insisted. “How’d you get so smart?”
“I studied a lot.”
“Loads of people study a lot,” I pointed out. Lygon University was full of students who studied a lot—who were the smartest at the high school, only to start uni and realise they were simply average among their new peers.
“I’ve always been good at maths,” he admitted. “I got a high distinction in the Australian Maths Competition when I was eight.”
“Really?” I asked. “Are your parents mathematicians or something?”
“No. My mum’s a shopkeeper, and my dad’s a plumber.” He was quiet for a moment. “What about your parents? You said your stepmum works at Myer.”
“Yeah, and my dad’s an orthodontist,” I said. “Maybe he’s part of the reason Elena and I are into the sciences, but I’ve always found science more fun and easy compared to other subjects.”
Nick nodded, rolling his pen up and down the page.
“So what else are you studying apart from maths?” I asked, leaning over to look at his computer. I assumed there’d be more to Actuarial Studies than just equations.
“Intro to Finance and Intro to Macroeconomics.”
I studied his expression. “You don’t look very excited about them.”
His face softened. “No, they’re fine. I actually like my course a lot. It’s challenging in a good way.” His eyes fell on his page. “Okay, you’ve distracted me enough. It’s time to get back to work.”
“Wait,” I said, grabbing his hand. “One more thing.”
Gently, he tugged his hand away. Right. We didn’t have the kind of relationship where we held hands—at least, not outside of the bedroom.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. How taking you to Kiss and Tell was a fail.”
“It wasn’t a fail—”
“But it wasn’t perfect, was it? Yes, you enjoyed the food, but you felt out of place.” I took a breath. “I was thinking that we could have a practise date. Like how we had bedroom lessons? We could do a date lesson. That way, when I go on a real date, I won’t freak him or her out with a way too fancy restaurant.”
Nick looked conflicted.
I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Feel free to say no. I suppose you’re not exactly an expert in dates since you don’t do relationships—”
“No, I’ll do it,” he said, sounding a touch offended. “I still know what counts as a good date.”
“Really?” I brightened. “Are you free this weekend? Because I was thinking we could watch a movie, or go to an arcade? Or we could get dinner again.”
“That sounds expensive.”
I was about to say it wouldn’t be that expensive, but I knew that wouldn’t be tactful. “I don’t mind paying,” I said instead.
“Look, everyone’s different. Maybe some people are really into arcades and flowers and that stuff. But for me… if I was on a date with you…” he looked at me so intensely I fought the urge to squirm. “I’d want to do something you want to do. Something relaxed. Something inexpensive.” He tilted his head. “What do you usually do?”
“I… I play board games with my friends, sometimes.”
“Then let’s do that.”
“But… it’s not exactly romantic, is it? And when I say friends, I mean my sister and her best friend.”
“Hayden.” Nick looked serious. “If I’m going on a date with you, I want to see the authentic you.”
“What about the better me?” I asked. “The cool, suave, non-weird, perfect-boyfriend version of me?”
“Don’t you get it?” Nick was using his signature impatient voice. “I’m on a date with you because I like you the way you are.”
Silence stretched out between us.
“I mean,” Nick said, voice slightly mumbly, “that’s what I would say if this was real.” With that, he picked up his pen and focused on his equations, face so close to his notebook he was practically rubbing his nose in it.
I leaned back in my chair. It was uncharacteristically kind of him to say that my future date would like me the way I was, but it wasn’t true. When people wrote down what they wanted in a boyfriend, they wrote tall, handsome, and pays the check . They didn’t write I don’t care who he is, I’ll like him the way he is.
It was like asking mothers what they wanted in an ideal child. Sure, they’d say I’ll love them unconditionally , but what they really meant was cute and obedient.
That being said, I couldn’t throw Nick’s advice back in his face. If he wanted the date I organised to be laid-back and low-effort, I’d do it.
“What’s the plan for this Friday?” I asked Elena that evening.
She stood in front of the stove, tossing a generous amount of herbs into the pasta sauce. Atticus sat at the dining table, playing on his phone.
“Bean Bohnanza?” Elena suggested. “We haven’t played that in a while.”
Phew. It seemed Elena and Atticus weren’t deviating from their usual routine of staying in and playing board games.
“Remember Edwin and Leo are coming over,” Atticus said.
“Oh yeah,” Elena said, turning around to face me. “I’ve invited a few friends over.”
“You have friends that aren’t Atticus?”
“They’re the guys we went to hot pot with. The double date, remember?”
When she mentioned her double date, I hadn’t paid much attention, but now that I was thinking about it, it seemed very unlikely. “So whose date was who?”
“It was supposed to be Atticus and Edwin and me and Leo,” Elena said.
“But?” I asked.
“Edwin and Leo are boyfriends now,” Atticus said. “You’ll like them. They’re very friendly.”
“Cool.” I shifted on my feet. “Actually, would I be able to bring a friend? His name is Nick.”
Elena shot me a shrewd look. “Is it that suspiciously handsome guy who was—”
“Prowling on my bed like a jaguar-slash-leopard, yes,” I said.
“Your kissing tutor?” Atticus asked.
“Yes.” I walked over to the kitchen to help Elena serve dinner. I picked up two plates and brought them over to the dining table, setting one down in front of Atticus and one in front of me. “Do we have space for him to come too?”
Atticus smiled, which was a somewhat rare occurrence for him. “Of course. That makes six, which means… we can play Avalon .”
“Games are way better with more people,” Elena agreed, walking over with her own plate. “Besides, it’d be nice to meet him, since the only interaction I’ve had with him was when I walked in on you two.”
“We weren’t doing anything weird,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat.
Elena ignored that. “I’m planning to make dinner, so do you want to tell him to come over around six? That’s when Edwin and Leo are arriving.” She swirled some spaghetti around her fork.
“Sounds good.” I chewed some food, then paused. “Do you want me to help with dinner?”
“Offering to help with dinner?” Elena’s eyes went comically big. “You must really want to impress this guy.”
“I’ve helped with dinner before,” I argued, but now that I thought about it, all I really did was eat all the leftovers or share them with Nick.
“Don’t worry about dinner, you’ll just get in the way,” Elena said.
“Perhaps you could bring some snacks,” Atticus said. “Leo and Edwin will bring beer, and I’ll bring some soft drink.”
“I could bring lollies or chips,” I said, perking up.
Atticus and Elena nodded.
I dug into my meal happily. I had planned to ask Elena and Atticus something like please don’t be weird and freak Nick out , but decided against it. Now that I was sitting in front of them, I couldn’t bear to be mean.
Since Elena was my older sister, she was genetically disposed to be embarrassing, but she made dinner for me literally every day. Sure, I didn’t want Nick to have an awful time or decide that I was even more of a weirdo than he already thought because my two closest friends were my older sister and her best friend. But I’d already done so many embarrassing things in front of Nick. Surely he wouldn’t change his mind now.
On Friday night, I returned home after class with two shopping bags. One was filled with sweets and chocolate, and the other consisted of chips: salt and vinegar, honey soy chicken, and Zig Zag Twisties—the holy trinity of chip flavours.
While Elena prepared burgers and salad, I ran around the living room, vacuuming the carpet, wiping down the coffee table and putting away random junk.
Atticus arrived first with a bag full of board games and two bottles of soft drink. He popped the board games boxes to the side and placed throw pillows around the coffee table.
The buzzer rang, and a glance at the intercom screen revealed it was Nick. I pressed the button to let him up and lingered at the front door, waiting for him.
Once he knocked on the door, I swung it open. “Hey! Thanks for coming.”
“I’m a little early.” He raised the reusable shopping bag he was holding. “I brought some crackers and dip. Hopefully that’s okay.”
“That’ll be perfect,” Elena called from the kitchen.
I stepped back to let him in. “Nick, this is my sister, Elena. You’ve met briefly before.”
“Hi,” Nick said, lifting his hand in a little wave.
“This is Atticus,” I said, turning his attention to where Atticus sat in the living room.
Atticus stood up, walked over and offered a hand. “Atticus Sinclair,” he said.
Nick took his hand and shook it. “Nick Dimitriades. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Do you like board games?”
“Sure. I haven’t played them in a while, though,” he said.
“Which ones?”
“ Monopoly —”
“We’ve banned Monopoly ,” Elena called from the kitchen.
Nick looked startled. “Why?”
“Don’t let them get started,” I said, dragging Nick away before Atticus and Elena could start their ‘Monopoly is an awful game and here are seventy-eight reasons why’ speech. I led him to the kitchen bench, where he took out packets of crackers and containers of dip from his shopping bag.
A few minutes later, Edwin and Leo arrived, both holding a pack of beer each. After setting the beer down, they wrapped Elena and Atticus in hugs.
I stared. I’d never thought Elena or Atticus were the touchy types. They barely ever hugged each other. Hell, Elena never even hugged me.
“This is my brother, Hayden,” Elena said, gesturing to me. “And this is his friend, Nick. This is Edwin, and this is Leo.”
Edwin had short black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. He wore a jumper with a tiny dog embroidered on the breast, and his hands rested casually in the pockets of his jeans. Leo was blond and almost as tall as me, at about six foot two. He wore a black compression shirt, and it made him look like an intimidating gym bro until he cracked a wide grin and waved an excited hand. “Hey! You’re both in first year, right?”
“Yeah. I’m studying pathology, and Nick’s doing actuarial studies,” I replied.
Leo’s eyes went big, and I suddenly thought of him as an overexcited puppy in a tall man’s body. “Wow, you guys must be really smart, hey?”
“Dinner’s ready,” Elena called, gesturing everyone over to the dining table.
“This looks good, Elena,” Edwin said, taking his seat. “Thanks for making it.”
“It was nothing,” Elena said, but she looked pleased.
Once everyone took their seats around the dining table, we dug in. I was hungry, so I was more focused on eating than the awkwardness that hung in the air. I realised Elena and I had never had so many guests in our apartment before.
“We were just telling Hayden and Nick that we’ve banned Monopoly,” Atticus said.
“What?” Leo lowered his burger. “But Monopoly is great!”
“That’s because you haven’t played enough board games to know any better,” Elena said.
Leo laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave it to the experts.”
“So, are you all in your second year?” Nick asked.
“Yep. Atticus and I are studying science,” Elena said.
“I’m doing marketing,” Edwin said.
“And I’m studying architecture,” Leo finished.
“Are your classes much more difficult than first year?”
That made the four second-years brighten. Had Nick purposely appealed to older people’s love of imparting advice?
“I’ve found it more challenging, yes,” Atticus said as he scooped up some salad. “It’s not too hard if you remember what you learned in first year. That’s the foundation, and everything builds on top of that.”
After that, dinner went by quickly. I busied myself with stuffing my mouth, and the others gave tips and tricks to make the most of uni.
“The Queer Collective does a sausage sizzle every Wednesday if you want free lunch,” Edwin said.
Leo added, “If you ever use the uni gym, go in the morning—it’s way less crowded,” before moving on to other topics.
We all had a can of beer, except for Atticus and Elena, who stuck to soft drinks. Once everyone had finished eating, Leo and Edwin insisted on washing up the dishes. Nick joined them, and as he rinsed dishes in the kitchen, I heard him bond with Leo over something called Strava.
Finally, it was time for board games. Atticus summoned everyone to the coffee table like a regal king. Once we were all sitting cross-legged on a throw cushion, Atticus set various boxes on the table.
“I think it’s always good to start off with a social deduction game,” he said. “Is everyone happy with that?”
“You’re the expert,” Edwin said.
“Okay. This game is called Avalon .” He opened the box and explained the rules. There were the good guys—the loyal servants of Arthur—and the bad guys—Mordred and his minions. Since there were only six people, Atticus set up a modified version. Three of us would be good, including one person who would be Merlin, who knew who the evil people were. The other three would be evil, including one evil person who was also the assassin.
The aim of the game for the good people was to successfully complete three quests while the evil people tried to sabotage them. But if the assassin successfully figured out who Merlin was, they would win.
I’d played the game before, but I could tell it seemed complicated to Leo, Edwin and Nick. However, once we got into it, it was very easy to understand. More importantly, everyone became much more talkative, including Nick, and I realised that he’d been relatively quiet before.
“I’m telling you that Leo is a bad guy,” he insisted.
In response, Leo grinned evilly.
Elena nudged him. “You’re not supposed to let anyone know you’re evil.”
“He might not be evil. Maybe he’s just smiling like that to throw people off. I wouldn’t put it past him,” Edwin said.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “There’s no strategic advantage to pretending to be evil.”
“Except for the fact that it’s funny,” Leo countered.
“The point is,” Nick said loudly, “Leo’s definitely evil, and I suspect Atticus is too.”
“You have been awfully quiet this round,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Atticus.
“That’s because you all talk so much, I can’t get a word in. Also—” He whirled his attention to Leo. “—how are you so sure? You’re not Merlin, are you?”
“No!” Nick said indignantly. “I’ve just been using deduction.” He went on to explain how he calculated the likelihood of certain people being evil from the past few rounds.
“Nick’s really good at maths,” I said proudly. “Alright, I believe him.”
The good guys—Nick, Edwin and I—ended up winning that round. We played again, and once again, Nick gave his ‘I deduced the likelihood’ speech and announced that Elena was evil.
“Stop defaming me,” she said.
Once again, I believed Nick, so when it turned out he was evil, my jaw dropped.
“I can’t believe this!” I exclaimed. “This is utter betrayal.”
Nick laughed. It was the first time he’d laughed all evening, and it unloosened a knot of stress I hadn’t known I’d had.
I had wondered whether he’d actually enjoy hanging out in my apartment with a bunch of strangers. Maybe he was too cool for board games. But now, Nick’s eyes were glittering, and he was participating with a hundred per cent enthusiasm. My stomach felt warm and gooey inside.