Alone [manxman]

thirteen: when things near normal.

                   But, I'd seen recovery. This was recovery. He made me want to be better, he seemed better. Really better.

                    "What are you a chihuahua?"

       Jules' leg halted from 100 miles per minute, with that, his body stopped vibrating... "well...actually no," a laugh spilled. God, those lips.. "More like an Aussie."

That was... accurate. "I see it."

I had a hard time picturing a dog for myself and Jules knitted his brows together, and shook his head. "You're like a... cat." That was also... very accurate.

I was with him until he tacked on, "kitten."
It was paired with those big bug eyes.

"I'm 6'2."

Jules rolled his eyes. "You're 6-foot."

"You're 5'10."

"5'11 and literally like—" 3/4, "almost 6'foot."

I knew he was gonna say something like that though, it was obvious with the amused smile on his face. "I don't mind looking down." I laughed, patting the top of his head. "Mi pequeño amor."

He threw me that unimpressed look and I suddenly overthought the affection. "You can't complain, you've never been forced to work retail."

                  "Hey! Ivan's Italian Restaurant was way worse." I doubted that. I'd been on both sides of the coin, the money while serving almost made the customer interactions worth it. And he didn't have to consistently watch customers throw garments on the floor, reorganizing the same rack four times... for minimum wage.

                  "Ivan's? Isn't that... not an Italian name?"

                    Jules shrugged again. "Sounds not Italian... but it was the only restaurant on campus and I worked there a week."

                     "The dedication." Julian was pushing me to the side before I realized. He offered a smile then, going to untie his shoe as the sales associate made her way to us. "Italian actually sounds good... Wanna get pasta or something and head back?"

                      He nodded.

                      We sat in silence for a few minutes then he was grabbing for a new shoe box. "Thank you."

                     He was untying the right shoe, pulling at the strings to pull out the filling, his bracelet jingling, two charms on it, one of them a soccer ball. Under the bracelet, my eyes caught a new little addition. He had ocean waves in a rectangular frame tatted on his wrist.

                       Jules smiled over at me, bending to try the shoe on and I wondered what he was thinking about.

                      It was silent for a second as he slipped his foot in, and he bit his lip when he finished, his eyes barely met mine and only for a second then he was shrugging.

                      "We don't have to talk about last week, right?" That was him again, after too long a beat of silence. He was looking over the shoe tied on his foot, standing to rate comfortability. He walked a little and turned to look at the shoe in the mirror next to us.

                      I shrugged, "not if you don't want to."

"I mean, I don't think we need to but I wanted to."