16
My phone was ringing. At first, I planned to ignore it because I was an hour deep into a study session, and I was so close to finishing my draft of a marketing campaign plan.
But then I saw the caller ID. “What the hell?” I said aloud because it was Leo.
I stared for a moment, then quickly picked it up because it had been ringing for a while and would end soon.
“Hello?” My tone was cold with suspicion.
“Hi,” Leo replied weakly. “It’s me.”
The familiarity of his voice was like a bullet to his heart.
“Hi.”
“Um.” He sucked in a breath. “Are you free today?”
“Why?”
“Um. Well. I wanted to see you.”
“Why?” I repeated, voice more demanding this time. I hoped my blunt tone would disguise the fact that I’d spent every night thinking about him for the last three weeks.
“It’ll be easier if we speak in person. So, are you free? I can do any time. Whatever’s best for you.”
“I’ll be free at four,” I said stiffly. Technically, I was free the whole day, but I wouldn’t drop my assignment and come running just because Leo asked me to.
“That’s perfect.” There was a hint of something…excitement?…in his voice. “Let’s meet at Flagstaff gardens. Near the water fountain on the south side, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, feeling dubious.
“Thanks, Wi— Edwin. I know this was out of the blue and stuff but — well, you’ll see when we meet. Anyway, I’ll let you go. Bye.”
“Bye,” I murmured, and after the call ended, I stared at my phone, totally confused.
I told myself to manage my expectations as I walked through the park. Wide grey-blue paths cut diagonally through green lawn, native flowers and oak trees. I walked slightly uphill towards the fountain. Now that it was late autumn, almost winter, the sun would set soon, and the park was busy with people getting their evening walks in. By the fountain, a crowd of people played with their dogs.
I hadn’t seen so many dogs in one place since the puppy cafe, the day I met Leo. Maybe this was some reoccurring dog meet, where puppies would get to socialise with each other. Most were on leads, yipping cutely at each other, though a few ran around, which I think was technically against the park rules, but they weren’t causing any trouble.
That’s when I saw him. He was faced away from me, and his hair had grown, brushing the collar of his jacket, which was turned up against the wind. He turned as if sensing me, and the first thing I noticed was that his cheeks had gone adorably pink from the cold.
Then my eyes fell.
“Why do you have a dog?” I asked.
The white puppy, connected to the lead he was holding, trotted over to me. The puppy looked like a Maltese, with fluffy white fur, two big black eyes, and a black nose, which the puppy used to sniff my shoes.
“It’s for you.”
I jerked my gaze from the puppy to Leo. He was smiling, but his eyes looked…nervous. “What?” I asked.
He switched the lead from one hand to the other. “You said that you liked puppies. So, I thought that —”
“You got me a puppy?” I asked, panic rising. I lived in a tiny apartment and wasn’t sure my lease even allowed pets. Besides, as much as I loved puppies, they were expensive.
Leo winced. “No. Not permanently, at least. I borrowed her from a friend. Tommy. You met him at the party. He was the one with the moustache.”
Oh, right. The one who put Leo in a headlock. It was slightly funny to think a guy like him owned the tiny, excited puppy before me.
“Anyway, her name’s Pippa,” Leo continued.
I leaned down, fingers outstretched. Her pink tongue came out and licked a stripe across my hand. “Aw,” I said. “She’s so cute.” When I scratched her behind the ears, she eagerly wagged her tail.
Leo squatted, too, his knee almost brushing mine in the process. “She is. She’s always excited, though — she barked at every tram that passed on the way here.”
I patted Pippa a little more until the joy faded, then stood straight. “Why did you ask me to come here?”
He was quiet for a moment, still petting Pippa’s shiny coat. It was strangely nice to look down at him, to see the crown of his head. Maybe it was a perverse satisfaction. But then he straightened to his full height, and I had to tilt my chin to meet his eyes.
“I wanted to apologise,” Leo said. “And to talk. And to make things better.”
“So you’re bribing me with your friend’s puppy?”
Leo’s eyes widened. “No,” he said. “I want to do something nice. I thought it’d be lame to just show up at your door, empty-handed.” His hands twisted the dog lead. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
My heart clenched, and I felt guilty for being snarky. “No,” I said. “It’s…” I looked around at the puppies and dogs playing on the lush lawn, the sunset reflecting off the skyscrapers in the background. “It’s lovely.”
“I want to take you to dinner,” Leo said.
“Dinner?” I echoed.
“Yeah. I want to take you on a proper date.”
I stared at him. Then I looked down at my jeans and sneakers. Of course, I made sure I looked nice before coming here, but —
“If I knew we were going to dinner, I would’ve dressed up.”
“You look fine,” Leo said. The words alone didn’t sound like a big compliment, but the way he said it, so simply and earnestly. His gaze fell to Pippa, who had flopped onto the lawn. “Sorry, I should’ve told you about dinner, but I thought you might say no. I mean, you can still say no. But I just wanted to see you in person.” He scratched one ear.
“Why do you want to take me on a proper date?”
“Because…I’ve been thinking over these past few weeks, and…shit,” he muttered. “I’m not making any sense.”
I waited.
“Because I do like you, Edwin. I want to be with you. I know it’s been weeks since we talked, but I used the time to think things over. Then I worried that I’d taken too long and it was too late, but I want to explain things and…and to say sorry.”
I stared at him because this was what I wanted. This was what I imagined moments before I fell asleep. Part of me resented how quickly the rush of happiness flooded me — how much I wanted to touch and hug him and return to normal.
“Okay,” I said, which was a lame response but also thankfully disguised how ecstatic I was. “Let’s get dinner.”
Leo’s brows lifted. “Yeah?” He smiled — the first proper blinding smile. “Are you happy to go now?”
“Sure.” I looked down at Pippa. “But what are we going to do with her?”
“I know a place that has outdoor seating.”
We started down the footpath. Pippa yipped at a few of the nearby dogs but soon settled into a happy trot. We made our way through Flagstaff Gardens, and I noticed Leo glancing at me in my periphery. When we arrived at the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the lights to turn green, he fidgeted, shifting the dog lead from one hand to the other.
I was surprised by his nervousness until I realised I was also fidgeting — tugging at my clothes, fixing my hair. It was weird, like we were strangers again.
After a long silence, Leo explained that we were going to a street in Carlton that was well known for its restaurants, particularly its Italian cuisine. The walk felt short, but perhaps that was because I spent the whole time with my mind preoccupied.
He said he wants to be with me.
Soon, we arrived at an Italian restaurant with an outdoor seating area, lit with string lights and candles on the tables and kept warm with tall metal gas heaters in the corners. It was busy, even for a random weeknight, and we had to wait in line for a few minutes before we were led to a table at the end of the outdoor dining area. The waitress looked uni-student age — Arts, I guessed, from the lip piercings and sleeve tattoos. After she handed us the menus, she offered to get Pippa a bowl of water, which Leo accepted with a smile and thanks.
We spent the next few minutes in silence, reading the menu.
“What do you think you’ll get?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“I heard the pesto pasta was good, so I’ll probably get that. You?”
I hummed, tapping a finger against my mouth. “Probably a pizza. The margarita looks good.”
Leo nodded and flipped through the rest of the menu. “Do you want an entree? Or something to drink? There’s wine. Lots of it.” His eyes flicked down the page. “I don’t even know what half of this means.”
I huffed a laugh. “I’m okay. I’m happy to have lemonade.”
Leo met my gaze. “Alright,” he said.
When the waitress returned with the dog bowl of water, she took our orders, and Leo ordered a soft drink too, but he got Solo. After the waitress left, the air between us turned awkward. I glanced around the restaurant, which was filled with couples and families of all ages. On the other side of the road, men and women stood outside their restaurants, attempting to convince passers-by to eat at their business.
When I turned my attention back to the table, Leo was watching me. The look in his eyes made my stomach flip, but then he quickly averted his gaze, doing the same look-around-the-area, tug-at-clothes routine.
“So,” he said.
“So,” I said.
He looked down, took a deep breath, and then met my eyes again. “I saw your LULL post.”
It took me a second to realise what he was referring to, and then my cheeks flamed.
I buried my face in my hands. “Oh my god,” I said. “I didn’t mean for you to see that. As in, it wasn’t intended for you. I just blurted out my feelings and —” I paused, then removed the hands from my face. “Is that why you reached out?”
Leo flinched. “No. Maybe a bit. The thing is…I wanted to talk to you, but I thought you hated me or that I was too late. It had been weeks, and I figured you were probably over it. But then I saw the letter, and I thought maybe I still had a chance.”
I spoke, my voice fragile. “What happened?”
Why did I have to go through all this pain if you were going to return weeks later with a puppy and a date? How do I know it’s real this time?
Leo’s shoulders slumped. “I was scared,” he murmured.
I waited. A long moment passed, and then he said, “The whole idea of a relationship scared me. I liked you so much, Winnie,” — That was the first time he called me that today— “and I felt like I couldn’t control my own emotions. I didn’t want to overindulge.
“And then I told you about my parents. I just blurted it out. It felt like a relief at the moment, but on the way to the party, I kept thinking about how I usually wouldn’t have said anything. How I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Why?” I asked quietly.
“Because…because it…it just makes me feel exposed. I know I played it off like a funny story, but you were right. It isn’t funny. For the longest time, I thought that if I’d never walked in on my dad, my parents wouldn’t have divorced. But they probably would’ve since they were both serial cheaters. They never had the birds and the bees talk with me. They just screamed at each other over the dinner table that the other was a lying whore. And now,” Leo said, with a mirthless laugh, “I’m just telling you even more secrets about me.”
“I’d never tell anyone,” I said. “And I’d never judge you.”
“I know that logically,” Leo said. “But it still feels scary. And it felt even more scary at the party, which is why I avoided you. I know I lost you and that I could’ve tried harder to find you, but I didn’t.”
Before I could reply, the waitress appeared, placing two glasses of soft drink on the table.
“I’m sorry,” Leo said. “I wasn’t planning to ditch you. I was really excited for you to meet my friends, but then when you asked if you were just a friend —”
“Oh, so it’s my fault.”
“No!” His eyes were wide. “I just panicked. I’m not saying all this to make excuses. I just want to explain. Because I am really, really sorry.”
He looked so earnest that I had to glance away. My eyes fell onto the table, and I nodded.
“I was also scared at the thought of telling my friends you were special. I mean, we hadn’t talked about it, but also, if my friends knew I liked guys…that I liked you…I’d feel weird. And I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I know they’d be nice about it.” A shaky inhale. “But the bigger thing is that…it’s embarrassing. Not you,” he said quickly. “Me. The whole dating-romance-love thing is embarrassing. I don’t know how to describe it. You’ve always been so calm about everything, but this is new to me. All of it,” he repeated. “You were my first kiss. My first…” he ducked his head. “…y’know. Even that night when you helped me with my project, and we shared a bed, that was the first time I’ve ever shared a bed with someone.”
I raised my head. “How is it embarrassing?”
“How is it not? You’ve…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ve seen me naked. You heard me…make noises. And,” he said hurriedly, “it’s not just the sex stuff. I think back to how I’ve acted around you and cringe. The way I’d cling onto you like you were a teddy bear. The way I can’t stop smiling around you, like an idiot. Even in public, I know I look at you in a certain way, and everyone knows. It makes me feel…vulnerable.”
The truth was, I understood. It had been a while, but I still remembered the self-consciousness making the back of my neck prickle when I tried flirting with a boy for the first time at a bar. The day after I’d lost my virginity, and I walked down the street, feeling like the strangers passing by just knew. Even in primary school, the panic when my crush had caught me staring a bit too long.
“And then I told you about my parents, and it’s like everything was a hundred times worse,” Leo continued. “And I realised the more time we spend together, the more chances you’ll see me in ways I don’t want to be seen. Pathetic or grumpy or in a pissed mood because of my mum and dad. And the more chances you’ll have to learn all the unflattering things about me and my life.”
“But you’d also learn all the unflattering things about me,” I said.
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
“I guess the wanting is more powerful than the fear.”
That hung in the air for a long time. Leo stirred his drink with the straw.
“I know what you mean about this stuff being embarrassing and scary,” I said. “But you get used to it. At least, I did, and I assume everyone else does. Otherwise, everyone would be too busy cringing or panicking rather than dating or having sex or getting married.
Leo met my eyes.
“I think,” I said, “love is only humiliating when it ends or when you realise it was one-sided. When you feel like an idiot because it was just an illusion.”
“Is that what it was like for you?” he asked quietly.
I raised a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I did wonder whether I’d been delusional. Whether I just thought I’d been someone special when really, you were like that to everyone.”
“You are special,” Leo said.
I smiled weakly. “Yes, I know that. But I hate that for a second, I had to wonder.”
The waitress appeared with our meals, and I quickly dug into the pizza — both because it was a good distraction, but also because I was genuinely hungry. As a cheapskate uni student, I liked Dominos and Pizza Hut as much as the next person, but there was something about this fancy stuff. The thick, pillowy crust, browned from a wood-fired oven, the melted mozzarella against rich red tomato paste, the artfully arranged basil leaves. The scent alone was mouth-watering.
I was so distracted by the delicious food that I only looked up after demolishing half the pizza. Leo was equally raptured by his pesto pasta, and I laughed at his expression.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. How’s your food?”
“Really good. You want a taste?”
I nodded, and he pushed his bowl closer to me. I used my fork to twirl up some of the spaghetti and brought it to my mouth. “Mm. That is good.” I gestured at my plate. “Do you want a slice of my pizza?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” I used my fork and knife to pick up a piece and placed it on the side of his bowl.
“Thank you,” he said.
A few minutes later, I was slowly finishing my last slice of pizza. Leo had eaten all his pasta and was draining the last of his Solo.
“I am sorry, Edwin,” he murmured.
I set down my pizza slice.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I let you leave that night without trying to explain myself.”
“I could’ve waited,” I admitted.
He shook his head quickly. “You shouldn’t have had to. Even if you did, I don’t think I’d have the words to…to…” he trailed off. “I do like you,” he said. “Not the sex. You.
“And I shouldn’t have ditched you at the party. Every time I think of it, I feel so ashamed. I knew you wanted a boyfriend. I knew it from the very start. I guess I was afraid of how fast things happened and how intensely I felt about you, and there was the fact I felt totally clueless about everything, but…” he inhaled deeply. His eyes didn’t waver from mine; they were wide, pleading. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you for saying that,” I managed after a long moment. It was like my brain had glitched, and I had to work extra hard to gather my thoughts. I realised I sounded overly formal and slumped my shoulders, letting the facade melt away. “This is what I wanted,” I told Leo, voice helpless. “I wished you’d come back. Well, you know that. It was in my love letter.”
And Leo smiled at me. Not his usual blinding smile, with the top row of straight white teeth. This smile was small, with the corners of his eyes crinkling, but it was true all the same.