Page 16 of Romance Languages

After another long day, I drove home in my usual daze, zoning out to some Maroon 5 song on the radio. They all kinda blended together, didn’t they? I’d stayed late after school first to help a student who struggled on his latest test, then to work on more videos. Social media was a gremlin that had to constantly be fed.

I detoured through some of the more scenic areas with upscale stores and bougie developments. Maybe one day I could live in a place like this. The trees were sprinkled with buds, their exposed branches twisting up to the sky.

Everything in this part of town was neat and proper. No grass or shrubs out of place. Trees lined both sides of the road in perfect symmetry. Except tonight, there was a curious exception: a guy sat on the curb, very out of place. This wasn’t a neighborhood where people sat on curbs.

As I got closer, I had to wonder if I was seeing things because there was no way that could be Julian.

His flowing brown hair and sweet face were unmistakable.

I stopped and rolled down my window. “Jules?”

Shock registered in his eyes as if I’d caught him in the shower or something. “Seamus? What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I decided to take the scenic route. Did your car break down?”

“No. I live down the street. I was taking a walk.”

Julian lived around here? Not that any teacher was loaded, but I knew he was comfortable. He was an immaculate dresser and enjoyed the finer things in life. He was the guy who spent more than five bucks on a bottle of wine and like, did the thing where he sloshed it around in his glass and smelled the bouquet.

“Did you injure yourself?”

“No. I just needed to sit down.”

I glanced down at his dress shoes. Definitely not ones suitable for walking. Nor was his blazer and shirt combo, although he looked snazzy.

Something was off about this whole thing, and my concern grew.

I put the car in park and joined him on the curb. I squatted down to his eye level.

“Jules, you’re sitting on the sidewalk at night in fancy-ass clothes. What’s going on?”

Julian turned to me with his warm brown eyes, the kind of eyes that could break your heart without saying a word.

“I had a bad night.”

“What happened? Are you hurt?” I put a protective hand on his shoulder.

“Just my pride.” He tossed a pebble into the street. “I had a bad date. A really bad date.”

“Eh, we all have shitty dates. Did the guy chew with his mouth open?”

“He said he couldn’t stand to be near me because I was too fat. He was on his phone messaging other guys during our date.”

What. The. Fuck.

A surge of anger lit me up. I was not a man prone to violence. I was a lover, not a fighter. But I wanted to track this asshole down and pound his face in.

“What a fucking piece of shit!”

Julian’s eyebrows rose at my reaction.

“Jules, you’re not fat.”

“This,” he motioned to his chest and stomach. “begs to differ.”

“Well,Ibeg to differ. You look good.”

“You’re just saying that.”

---