5
Okay, maybe he wasn’t the most attractive guy I’d ever seen. There were movie stars and singers, and this city was filled with billboards featuring models with perfect faces. But Atticus was definitely one of the most attractive guys I’d seen in real life.
As he’d said in his email, he was an inch shorter than me. His hair was blond, but I’d been picturing Leo’s dark honey hair, and Atticus’s was light, almost silvery. He was caucasian, and his fair skin was literally flawless. Mum would’ve described it as glass skin.
As promised, he wore a tan coat. Underneath it, he wore a black turtleneck and slim-fitting dark blue jeans. The clothes were simple, but somehow, they looked like the cutting edge of fashion on him.
The next thing I noticed about him was that he was skinny. Idol skinny. Figure skater skinny. Runway model skinny.
“Are you a model?” I blurted out.
“No,” he said. “Are you Edwin?”
“Oh, right, yes I am. I’m assuming you’re Atticus?”
“That’s right.” He put his hand out. “Atticus Sinclair.”
“Edwin Kim,” I said as I shook his hand because we were doing full names now.
“Nice to meet you.” He let go and turned his attention to the cafe. “Do you want to order?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I followed him to the end of the line, and his gaze roamed over the menu that was displayed on the back wall.
“What do you think you’ll get?” I asked.
“Probably a mocha. What about you?”
“Matcha lattes are my go-to,” I said. “I’m not a fan of coffee, but if I had to drink something with coffee in it, it’d be a mocha.”
He nodded. His posture was dignified — straight back, chin up — which made me think of models, figure skaters, and even ballerinas. He was still like a mannequin. Almost…untouchable.
“Have you ever tried matcha lattes?” I asked.
“Yes, but they’re not my favourite.”
Okay. I tried to think of another question. “Do you come to this cafe a lot?” I asked.
“I’d say so. This one or the King of Hearts.” That was a cafe on the other end of campus.
“Me too! I think this one’s better, though. The matcha lattes are fifty cents cheaper.”
“The mochas are the same price at both,” Atticus said.
I nodded. “So…” I searched for something to talk about. “What brings you to campus today?”
“I have two classes.”
“What in?”
“Physics.”
Thank god the line was moving quickly. It was our turn, and I rattled off my order. Atticus ordered his mocha just as quickly and efficiently as possible. “I’ve got it,” he murmured to me, lowering his phone against the card reader.
“Thank you,” I said as we moved to the side. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I was the one who suggested meeting. This time, at least.” He nodded towards the selection of tables and chairs. Most were empty since students usually got their beverages to-go. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Sure,” I said.
We sat at a square wooden table opposite each other. I picked up a napkin and started fiddling with it, then caught myself and stopped. Atticus shrugged off his coat, carefully hung it on the back of his chair, then surveyed the cafe.
“So, what got you interested in physics?” I asked. “Did you want to be Albert Einstein as a kid?”
He almost smiled. “Albert Einstein is probably the first physicist I was aware of,” he admitted. “But I didn’t become interested in physics purely because of him. I liked maths a lot as a kid, and once I started high school and started learning about physics, I realised it’s just maths but better.”
“Oh yeah?”
He nodded sagely. He opened his mouth to explain, but then a barista called out, “one mocha and one matcha latte.”
“I’ll grab it,” he said before I could offer. He gracefully stood up from his chair and walked over to the counter in a few short, swift steps.
“Thank you,” I said when he returned with the drinks and handed me my matcha.
“You’re welcome,” he said, sitting down again. “So, as I was saying.” He started talking about why physics was better than maths — something to do about real word problems, practicality, and a bunch of other complicated-sounding stuff. I tried my best to listen, but even the mere mention of the word “calculus” gave me war flashbacks to high school maths class.
“And that is why I ultimately chose physics as my major,” he finished.
I nodded and tried my best to pretend like I’d been listening.
He took a sip of his drink. I took a sip of mine.
“I don’t know what to talk about now,” he admitted.
“Usually, this is the point where you ask me a question.”
He looked into my eyes. I fought the urge to slink back.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’m trying to think of a question,” he said seriously.
I waited for 0.03 milliseconds before taking pity on him. “I’m studying marketing,” I said.
He nodded.
When he didn’t ask me a question, I said, “I enjoy it. It’s really fun.”
“How’s it fun?”
“There’s a lot of opportunities to be creative, but there’s also the more analytical side.”
He nodded.
We both took another sip of our drinks. Atticus wore a serious look again, as if he were trying to think of a question. My mind blanked. I was thinking of something to add about my course, but suddenly, talking about uni sounded like the least interesting thing in the world. I’d already done the whole spiel with Leo.
“So, uh, what are your hobbies?” I asked. “Do you play any sports?”
“I go on walks.”
“Walks,” I repeated.
He nodded. “Yes. I like listening to audiobooks.”
“What kind of audiobooks?”
“I like historical stuff. I’m very particular about accents, so I try to choose books set in the UK so I can listen to a British accent.”
“Oh, I understand that,” I said. “So, what kind of period do you like?”
“I like lots of different periods,” he said. “The regency period is popular, but I also like Victorian, Edwardian…post World War I is also good.”
I nodded and spent a few seconds scrambling to think of a question. Why was my brain working so slow? Was it because of Atticus’s face, or was it something else? “Do you have any recommendations?” I asked.
“What stuff do you like?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never read anything historical, but I like a British accent as much as anyone else.”
“What kind of British accent? Most books are set in England — London, specifically, but I’ve read some excellent books set in Scotland, Wales —”
“Oh, uh, I don’t mind. I don’t know. Whatever you think is best.”
His serious expression returned.
“What is it?” I asked, a little worried.
“I’m thinking.” He ran an eye over me, from the top of my hair to the hand that curled around my matcha latte as if he could glean the perfect recommendation from my appearance alone.
I fidgeted. Atticus’s eyes on me felt like piercing blades. Some might’ve revelled in the attention, but I felt like I was naked. Perhaps I should change the topic.
Just as I was trying to think of something to say, a voice rang out from across the cafe. “Eddie!”
Leo stood by the counter, waiting for his drink, and waved the way he had at the kebab restaurant, his big palm swinging so wildly it could knock someone passing by on the head.
I waved back.
Atticus followed my gaze, twisting around. “Is he a friend of yours?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Leo collected his iced americano and walked over.
“Hey Leo,” I said once he arrived. “How are you going?”
“Great! Well, about to be better once I drink this.” He held up his beverage, then smiled at Atticus.
I watched Atticus blink slowly at the blinding sight of Leo’s smile. It was a relief that everyone was affected by those smiles, but at the same time, I felt a touch of…irritation. Did Leo throw those smiles at everyone?
I pushed down my ugly feelings and said, “Leo, this is Atticus, Atticus, this is Leo.”
“Nice to meet you,” Leo said, and he grabbed a nearby unused chair and sat down in it, joining our table. “So, what are you two up to? Taking a break from studying?”
“We’re on a date, actually,” Atticus said.
Leo’s eyes widened. “Oh! Nice. A first date?”
“Yes,” I said. “This is the guy I was telling you about from my LULL post.”
“Right, of course. I’m glad you finally got to meet. Did Eddie tell you about the mix-up?” Leo asked Atticus.
“Yes, he did mention it,” Atticus said.
“Let’s not talk about it,” I muttered. “I don’t want to relive those traumatic memories.”
“It wasn’t all traumatic,” Leo said, reaching over to nudge my arm. “We had fun at the puppy cafe, didn’t we?”
Atticus was watching us, his brow creased. “You,” he said to Leo, “were the guy from the mix-up date?”
“Yes, Eddie thought I was you,” Leo explained. “But I’m glad it all worked out, and you’re on a date now. Eddie’s great.”
I blushed as Atticus’s piercing eyes met mine. “Right,” he murmured.
“Leo’s flattering me,” I said.
“I’m not!” He thwacked my back a few times. “He’s a good guy,” he told Atticus. “I promise.”
Then, to my shock, Leo presented his pinkie finger to Atticus. I thought Atticus would slink away, but he only stared at it for a second before curling his finger around Leo’s. Then, Leo pressed his thumb against Atticus’s.
I tried not to feel like I’d been doused in Antarctic-cold water. It’s not as if I trademarked the thumb-stamp pinkie promise. And I shouldn’t have been surprised that Leo was touchy with everyone, even people he’d met two minutes ago.
“I like your name,” Leo said after they’d untangled their pinkie fingers. “Are you named after Atticus Finch?”
“My grandma wanted to name me after Gregory Peck because she was in love with him,” Atticus said.
Leo laughed. “And what did your pop say?”
“My granddad didn’t mind. In fact, he said that if I was a girl, I should be named Ingrid after Ingrid Bergman. Anyway, my parents didn’t like the name Gregory, so they settled for Atticus.”
“I think the time we watched To Kill a Mockingbird in high school was the only time I properly paid attention to English class,” I said.
For the first time, Atticus smiled. “Gregory Peck is very handsome,” he agreed. “We also watched A Streetcar Named Desire —”
“Oh my god, yes,” I said. “Okay, scratch what I said before. There were two times I paid attention in English class.”
“A Streetcar Named Desire’s the one with the dude from The Godfather, right?” Leo asked.
“Yeah, when he was young and hot,” I said.
Leo nodded. “I can see what you’re talking about. He did have nice biceps.”
“You remember that from high school?” I asked.
“Of course. I can always appreciate a guy who hits the gym.” Leo tapped his lips, thinking. “Did you guys ever watch Romeo and Juliet?”
“Which version?” Atticus asked. “The old one or the one with Leonardo DiCaprio?”
“Both. Either.”
“They’re okay. The Romeos don’t compare to Gregory, though,” Atticus said.
“I have to agree with that,” I said.
“Okay, Atticus Finch was good-looking, but he was like forty!” Leo said.
“Age is just a number,” I said.
That won a laugh from Atticus, and my shoulders relaxed. Maybe this date wasn’t going to be a total disaster.
“Are you named after someone, Edwin?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “My parents just chose it because it sounded nice.”
“Do they call you Edwin or Eddie?” Atticus asked.
“Usually, they call me my Korean name, Eunwoo,” I said. “When I was in primary school, though, my friends called me Winnie.”
“Winnie,” Leo said, trying it. “I like it.”
“Do not call me that,” I told him. “It makes me sound like I’m Winnie the Pooh or something.”
“Winnie, Winnie, Winnie,” he said.
I punched his arm, and he laughed.
“What about you? Is Leo short for something?” Atticus asked.
“I was named after Leonardo da Vinci,” Leo announced. “Just kidding. It literally just says “Leo” on my birth certificate. I was named after the star sign. My mum’s that kind of person.”
“Leo’s your star sign?” I asked.
He nodded. “I told you, my birthday’s in a few months.”
“I think star signs are dumb,” Atticus announced.
“I agree,” I said, raising my hand, and Atticus high-fived it.
“Hey, I agree too,” Leo said, giving us both a high five. “I didn’t ask to be named after a star sign. At least I wasn’t named Cancer.”
I laughed.
“Or Virgin,” Atticus put in.
Leo stiffened. After a long silence, I said carefully, “Do you mean Virgo?”
Atticus blinked once. He had the type of face where every movement was deliberate, down to the micro-movements of his lashes. “I think you’re correct. Virgo.” He waved a hand. “I don’t know the star signs that well. I don’t even know my own.”
“Let’s find out,” Leo said, taking out his phone. “When’s your birthday?”
“29th of October,” Atticus answered. “But horoscopes are totally rubbish. You see, they say something so vague that they could apply to anyone. It’s the same technique that psychics use when they pretend to read your future —”
“Let’s just read it anyway, for fun,” Leo said and shot Atticus a disarming grin that made him give in.
We spent the next fifteen minutes discussing our horoscopes, and while Atticus spent half of the time talking about how unscientific they were, I could tell he was enjoying himself. We talked about our good and bad luck, as well as love fortunes and career prospects. As time passed, I found myself laughing more and more, and while Atticus scoffed at the websites we read, he was relaxed, hands moving as he emphasised his points.
Leo, of course, looked as relaxed as he always did. An easy smile, occasionally rocking back in his chair like a high school boy, and a loud, raucous laugh.
It was only after we’d drained our drinks that Atticus checked his phone. “I have to go. I have a lecture.” He stood up.
“Right,” I said, standing up too. “Um. I guess we’ll keep in touch?”
He nodded. “You have my email.”
“Actually, could I get your number? It’ll be easier to contact each other that way.”
“Sure.” He started reciting numbers, and I scrambled to get my phone out and create a new contact. “Great. I’ll catch you later then.”
He nodded. “It was nice to meet you. You too, Leo,” he said. “Goodbye.”
“See ya,” Leo and I said, watching him go. After he left the cafe, I slumped back down in my seat.
“What’s wrong?” Leo said.
“Nothing.” I rested my chin on my fists.
“I think it went well,” Leo mused.
“You were here for more than half of it,” I said.
He froze. “Crap, I totally barged in on your date. I’m so sorry —”
“No!” I interrupted, touching his arm. “Honestly, it’s a blessing you came. You should’ve seen us before. It was the most awkward thing in the world. It’s like my brain wasn’t working, and I forgot how to make conversation.”
Leo’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, it was,” I said. “You saved the date from being a dumpster fire.”
“You’re welcome?”
“Oh my god,” I said, rubbing my face again.
“Hey, if it went well, what’s wrong? I think he’s nice.”
“He is nice,” I said, voice muffled with my hands. Sure, it hadn’t been effortless with Atticus, but things had been easier towards the end. Maybe once we knew each other more, we’d get along better.
“Then what’s wrong? He’s not ugly.”
I removed my hands. “He’s not ugly,” I agreed. “He’s — did you see his face?”
“Obviously, I saw his face.”
“No, I mean,” I waved my hands. “Did you see his face? He’s a ten out of ten. He looks like a model for, I don’t know, Prada or something. What the hell is he doing on a date with me? Maybe that’s part of the reason why I couldn’t make normal conversation — because he intimidates me.”
Leo frowned. “Why does he intimidate you? You’re good looking, too.”
“Thanks, but I’m not like him!” I said. “He’s in a totally different league. I was expecting some average guy, but no, he shows up.”
“He’s not in a different league,” he said. “If you think that he’s too good for you, you’ll psych yourself out.”
“I’m already psyched out!” I said. “This morning, my expectations were on the floor, but not only is he pretty as hell” — Leo’s frown deepened — “he’s looking for a relationship, like me. Not a hookup. Not a fling. Oh my god. I can’t fumble this.” I took my phone out. “Should I message him? No, it’s too soon. He left five minutes ago. I’ll message him tonight. What should I say? ‘Hey, it was nice meeting you…’ Or ‘Hey, I had fun today…’ No, what about, ‘Would you be interested in having dinner…’”
Leo touched the hand that was holding my phone and pushed it down. “Whatever you write will be fine,” he said. “You like him, don’t you?”
I faltered. “I’m not sure. I don’t know him well enough for that, but…”
“But?”
“You saw him!” I said. “I’d be an idiot to mess it up with him.”
“He is handsome,” Leo admitted. “But he’s not exactly my type.”
“Okay, put it this way: just imagine you went on a blind date, and she was the prettiest girl in the world. You’d be the same way, wouldn’t you?”
Leo shrugged, looking down at his drink.
“The issue is,” I said, gathering my composure, “if we hang out again, there’s a risk of it being excruciatingly awkward. Things were only bearable after you showed up.”
“That’s easy,” Leo said. “Just invite me.”
I looked at him.
His smile faded. “I was kidding,” he said. “I can’t third-wheel your date. At least, not again.”
When I didn’t reply, he added, “Didn’t you say you were thinking of having dinner with him? How’s that going to look, the two of you gazing into each other’s eyes, and I’m just there?”
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “It’ll be perfect. See, when we were by ourselves, I was quiet because Atticus intimidated me, and he was quiet because I think that’s just his personality. If you’re there, everyone will be more relaxed. And you can be my wingman! You can make me look good in front of Atticus.”
“You said I was flattering you when I tried to compliment you before.”
“Because I was embarrassed, but maybe you can subtly make me look good.”
“I still don’t think third wheeling a date is a good idea —”
“It can be a double date.” I shot up in my seat like I’d been physically struck with inspiration. “I’ll ask Atticus if he has a female friend, and then the four of us can hang out, and it’ll be way more relaxed and laid back.”
“I’m really not looking for a girlfriend at the moment,” Leo said.
“Okay, but there’s no harm in having dinner, right? It’s not like you’ll have to marry her.”
He tilted his head as he thought about it.
I reached for his hands. “Please, Leo? Please? It’ll be fun, I promise, and I’ll pay for your meal, and this will be the only time.”
“The only time?”
“Yeah, all I need is one more dinner to properly get to know Atticus. Afterwards, we’ll know each other well enough to hang out without feeling awkward.” I clutched his hands with more urgency. “Please, Leo. I need your magical charisma powers.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “Alright. I can’t say no to a free dinner.”
“Thank you!” I squeezed his hands and let go. “I’ll let you know the details after I organise it with Atticus. If I end up with a boyfriend, you can have the satisfaction of knowing it was all thanks to you.”