4
To Atticus,
I know this sounds ridiculous, but it’s true: I didn’t mean to stand you up. I went to the cafe like we agreed (I arrived early, and that’s probably part of the reason for the mixup) and thought someone else was you, so I went off with him. It wasn’t until later I realised he wasn’t you.
I’m sorry that it seemed like I stood you up. I’m not writing this to make excuses, just to let you know there was a misunderstanding. Although, if I knew your name was Atticus, all of this could’ve been avoided.
Edwin.
After coming home from that disastrous ‘date’ with Leo, I checked the email I sent last night. Still no reply. Well, I couldn’t say I was surprised.
“What’s wrong?” Rome asked as he fell into the seat beside me, dumping his backpack on the floor under the table.
I’d met Rome last year when we’d both taken a subject called “The Magic of Movies” as an elective with a reputation for being a GPA booster. In our classes, all we did was watch famous movies and have a short discussion afterwards, and the assignments consisted of creative pieces that were marked very generously.
This semester, we’d both decided to take Introduction to Business Law because it was another GPA booster. The end-of-semester exam was multiple choice and open book. I suspected no one actually cared about the subject. Right now, the classroom was full of half-asleep students sipping coffees, and the tutor still hadn’t arrived even though the class was supposed to begin by now.
“Nothing,” I told him automatically, then thought better of it. “You know Lygon Uni Love Letters?”
Rome’s mouth tugged down as he pulled out his laptop and placed it on the table. “Why?”
“Not a fan of the page?” I asked.
“I don’t have anything against it,” he said. “Some people post crappy things on there, though.”
I suppose that was true. There’d be angry submissions addressed to someone’s ex or posts like “I cheated on my partner. Should I confess?” As far as I was aware, the page was meant to be somewhat moderated, with anything racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc., not being posted, but sometimes unhinged things fell through the cracks.
“Okay, so I posted something on there,” I said and told him the story of my first ‘date’ with Leo. As Rome listened, his look of apprehension slowly tuned to full-on laughter as I finished the story, and it was nice that at least someone found the story entertaining.
“So, do you think you’ll go on a date with this Atticus guy?” he asked.
“I don’t think he wants to see me,” I said. “His email sounded really mad.”
Rome clicked his tongue. “At least that Leo guy was understanding. Some men would’ve taken you coming on to them as an opportunity to swing a fist.”
“Yeah, he was weirdly relaxed about it.”
“And you’re friends now?”
“Yeah.”
After I arrived home yesterday, Leo and I exchanged social media handles via text. This morning, when I was sure I’d recovered enough from my embarrassment to look at photos of him without cringing, I stalked his posts. Unsurprisingly, Leo was a social butterfly, with several photos of him with groups of people. There were pictures of him in class, posing with tiny cardboard buildings or bridges made of pasta. There were photos of him with friends on hikes, or at the beach, or sitting on a lift in the snow. There were a few of him at a party, cheeks flushed, and one of him at the gym with some friends. They were posing goofily, not flexing like typical gum bros, but still, I didn’t want to look at his shiny biceps, so I scrolled past that photo very quickly.
Rome gave me a look, the kind of look I’d give a friend if they told me they decided they were going to be “just friends” with a straight man.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m very good at compartmentalising.”
Rome sighed. “Listen, he sounds like a great guy, but you were about to have sex with him, and now you want to be totally platonic bros? Come on.”
“Just because I was about to have sex with him doesn’t mean I’m wildly in love with him. I’d have sex with any reasonably attractive and kind guy. I’d have sex with you, for god’s sake.”
Rome choked.
“I’m not picky,” I continued.
“Thanks, Eddie,” he said dryly.
“I wouldn’t actually have sex with you because I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship, just like I won’t have sex with Leo because I don’t want to ruin that friendship.”
“As if you could have sex with him. He’s straight.”
I shrugged. “He might let me if he felt sorry for me. He let me kiss his neck.”
Rome rolled his eyes.
I was doing a bad job of explaining my point. “Trust me,” I said. “I’m too focused on finding a boyfriend to get caught up on some straight boy.” I frowned. “Why am I even explaining myself to you?”
“I don’t know why. I wasn’t attacking you.”
“You were attacking me with your eyes.”
Rome grinned.
“What?” I demanded.
“Nothing. Just…” he slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from chuckling. “The image of you two in bed, him all focused on Minecraft with you wondering when the hell you were gonna get to it —”
“Shut up!” I slapped his arm, but after a few seconds, I was laughing too.
The classroom door swung open, and our tutor walked in, carrying a leather satchel and wearing a thick wool scarf that probably cost a few hundred dollars. “Alright, peeps. Buckle in because today we’re discussing the super interesting topic of…” she paused dramatically. “Breach of contract. If you turn your textbooks to chapter 7…”
Two hours later, after class finished, I waved goodbye to Rome, who had to rush off to a lecture. I took the stairs down Arts East, the building hosting all humanities subjects. From the outside, it looked like a grand town hall, but the inside had been gutted and fitted with modern classrooms, sleek wide staircases, elevators, and decorated with abstract art.
As I landed on the ground floor, my phone buzzed, and I fished it out of my pocket.
Leo: Hey Eddie! Are you on campus today? I just saw there’s a deal on HSPs if you wanna get lunch :D
I typed out a reply.
Edwin: I just finished class actually, haha. HSPs sound good. Is it the place in the Union House?
Leo: Yeah! I’m there now
Edwin: I’ll meet you in five :)
It was a short walk to the Union House, a large red-brick building. Like most buildings in Lygon U, the inside had been refurbished with a modern food court. I looked past the sushi place and the bubble tea shop until I saw Leo standing by a kebab shop with a logo of a man with a moustache. As soon as he caught my eye, he waved enthusiastically.
“Hey,” I said, walking over to him.
“Hi, Eddie.” He gave me a big smile, eyes crinkling, and it hit me right in the chest. “This is the deal I was talking about.” He gestured at a sign on the counter which read ‘buy 1, get 1 half price’. “I considered buying two, but I’m trying to be healthier these days.”
I glanced over him, and despite the baggy shirt he was wearing, it was obvious he had a trim waist. “Why? You already look super fit.” I moved closer to the counter. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these. Which sauces should I get…”
In the end, we both got identical HSPs — mixed lamb and beef with cheese and barbecue, sweet chilli and aioli sauce — and sat down at one of the empty plastic tables in the cafeteria. The room was loud with chatter, so I scooted closer to Leo to hear him better.
“How have you been?” Leo asked as he popped the polystyrene lid of his snack pack and attacked a chip with a wooden fork.
“Alright. I’ve mostly recovered from last night, but looking at your face makes it all rush back.”
Leo laughed heartily. He was a sweet guy. Rome was right. Not many guys would have reacted to the misunderstanding as calmly as he did.
“What about you? Did you have class today?” I asked.
“Yeah, the one that my model is for, so I got a chance to ask my tutor a bunch of questions.”
“How is your model coming along?”
“Good! Well, I’m not panicking yet. Usually, I start all my projects early and work on them slowly until I realise there’s more to do than I thought, and so I spend the night before it’s due rushing the rest. But, like, in a fun way. I put on some music, make coffee, and work. It’s nice. I like using my hands.”
My eyes flickered down. Leo didn’t have the type of hands I associated with artists or craftsmen. They were big, like the rest of him.
“So, what happened to the guy you were supposed to go on a date with?” Leo asked.
“He emailed me last night, actually. When I was” — I fought the urge to cover my face with my hands again because we were past it now “— kissing your neck.”
“What did he say?”
“Mostly, he tore me apart for standing him up, etcetera, etcetera.”
“It’s not like you purposely stood him up,” Leo said.
“I said that. I wrote him a response, explaining the whole thing, but I doubt he’ll believe me or reply.”
“What if he did, though?” Leo asked. “Would you go on a date with him?”
I ate some food and chewed slowly, taking a moment to consider it. “I’m not sure. To be honest, he seems a bit…uptight. But that might’ve been because he was angry. So actually…” I started nodding. “I think I would go on a date with him if he wanted to.”
“Why?”
I stared at him. “What do you mean, why?”
He looked a little sheepish. “I mean, why are you going on dates?”
“To find a boyfriend,” I said it like it was obvious because it was.
“So you posted on LULL?”
“I feel like you’re judging me right now.”
“No! I’m not. Sorry if I sounded that way. I just meant…aren’t there easier ways? Like meeting in person or using dating apps? It should be easy for you because you’re…” he trailed off, not meeting my eyes.
“Because I’m gay?” I asked.
“Actually, I meant that it should be easy for you because you’re good-looking,” he said.
I stared at him, heat creeping up my neck. “Oh,” I said lamely because it wasn’t every day someone complimented my looks. Every time I went home, Mum told me I needed to lose weight before she fed me approximately 500 slices of gimbap.
“Speak for yourself,” I said, then paused. “You are single, right? Oh god, you must be since you let me kiss your neck. Although, you did say you only let me to save me the embarrassment —”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Leo said firmly. “If I were dating someone, I wouldn’t let another person kiss me out of politeness.”
“No. You’d only do that if you’re single,” I said dryly.
“It wasn’t just politeness,” he protested. “I was overwhelmed, not thinking clearly—”
Now, he was trying to make me feel better. “You know what?” I interrupted. “Let’s make a promise to never discuss that kiss again.”
Leo blinked once, then nodded, offering me his pinkie. I was confused for a second, because I was eight the last time I made a pinkie promise, but I took it and we locked our fingers. Then, pinkies still intertwined, I pressed the pad of my thumb against Leo’s.
“What’s this?” Leo asked.
“A pinkie promise,” I said.
“I’ve never done this thumb part before.” He wiggled his thumb to prove his point, warm skin rubbing against me.
“Oh,” I said. “It must be a Korean thing since this is how my parents taught me. The thumbs are meant to be like a stamp, sealing the deal.”
Leo smiled and tapped his thumb against mine, and the whole thing was so cute, I had to pull away and focus on my HSP.
“As I was saying,” I said, spearing a chip with my fork, “it should be easy for you to find someone. Or are you not interested in dating?”
“Er, well. It’s….” His gaze skittered away. “Complicated,” he finished.
“Complicated?”
He nodded, still not meeting my eyes. “Yeah, because…um. Because…”
When it was clear he wasn’t going to finish the sentence, I said, “Just imagine you met the prettiest girl in the world, and she had all the qualities you wanted. Would you date her?”
Leo’s eyes met mine, and a flicker of…something — alarm, horror, fear? — passed over his face. “No,” he said, and it was the sternest I’d ever heard him.
After that, we were silent for a few minutes.
“Sorry,” I said eventually. “I hope I wasn’t asking intrusive questions —”
“No, no, no, it’s all good,” Leo said, waving a hand. “You weren’t.”
I nodded but wondered whether he was just saying that to reassure me. It seemed like the sort of nice thing he’d do.
We spent the next few minutes making small talk about our week. Leo worked as a receptionist at the university gym, and so he had to juggle his shifts with his upcoming assignments. My schedule was more relaxed: I was volunteering at the uni’s queer collective on Thursday, and other than that, I just needed to do my readings and write notes.
After we’d finished our meals, thrown away the rubbish, and walked out of the union house, Leo said, “I’m heading to the library to study, if you wanna join?”
“I would, but I have class in fifteen,” I said. “It’s over in the Thwaite-Wells, so I better start walking there.”
The Thwaite-Wells was one of Lygon U’s uglier buildings, a brutalist rectangular tower built in the seventies and located on the very edge of campus like a shunned cousin.
Leo nodded, and once again, he took me off guard by wrapping me in a teddy bear hug. As I was squished against his body, feeling the strength of his arms and the clean smell of his clothes, I chanted friends, straight, platonic over and over in my head.
Atticus’s response came that evening when I was sitting at my desk writing an essay about traditional vs social media.
Edwin,
Thank you for explaining that. At first, part of me didn’t believe you, but I think that if you were going to lie, you’d at least make up a more convincing story. Should we try meeting again? I’m on campus tomorrow at lunchtime.
Regards,
Atticus.
I started typing out a response.
Of course I wouldn’t lie. It’s insulting you’d think that —
I made myself stop. While I doubted Atticus would be my future boyfriend, I couldn’t know that without meeting him, and so there was no point in starting an argument via email. Yes, the way he wrote his emails didn’t give me heart-eyes, but maybe he might be the most romantic person I’d ever met in person.
Hi Atticus,
Tomorrow lunchtime works perfectly. Should we meet at Professors Lane Cafe again? Does 12 suit you?
Edwin.
His reply came a moment later.
Edwin,
I will see you then and introduce myself as Atticus so there’s no chance of a mixup.
Atticus.
Once again, I found myself standing outside of Professors Lane Cafe. I stood under a tree, firmly out of the way, so there was no risk of being mistakenly thought to be in the queue. Atticus had messaged me to let me know he was on his way and that he would be wearing a tan coat.
I checked the time on my phone. I’d come a few minutes early, so I killed a few minutes by fixing my appearance on my phone camera.
My stomach felt tangled. I wasn’t sure why I was nervous because it wasn’t as if I had high hopes for Atticus, not really. Had I felt nervous on Monday? I must’ve, but I couldn’t remember it. I think it all melted away as soon as I started talking to Leo.
“Excuse me, are you Edwin?” A voice asked.
I looked up and into eyes of the most attractive man I had ever seen.