Dinner. Date. Dinner Date?
Wake up.
Wake up.
Turn off the alarm.
Brush your teeth and shower.
Get your pre-made breakfast package to go that you would enjoy on the walk to work.
Open up the cafe you had been working at for going on five years as of this previous month.
Work sometimes up to a 10 hour shift, maybe 12 if someone calls out and the owner asks you very nicely, like always.
Close up.
Go home.
Eat your pre-made dinner while you watch the occasional show to pass time.
Sleep.
Repeat.
This was a process you had adjusted to in the time you had been doing it. Only for it to shatter in the past few weeks. It was only in September, school having recently started back for Nueva York, when your schedule was broken apart. All by some overly attractive man who seemed to come in and out as he pleased.
Miguel. You had memorized his name in the month that has passed, October finally creeping in and making itself known in the Halloween decorations that lit up the city. It wasn’t hard to decorate in Nueva York, especially when most decorations came from signs and holographic lights that could be changed with a few button presses. Maybe it’s why you had more respect for Jacob considering he often hand decorated everything in the coffee shop. It was something that gave it a unique charm that you couldn’t find anywhere else. But Miguel was a wrench thrown into your schedule and one you couldn’t predict. The first time he had messaged you it took almost a full week and you were convinced he had thrown the cup away and would never come back. It was getting close to closing when you got the message, propped up with Jacob and talking about plans for the Halloween holiday as it was slowly drawing closer and closer.
‘Miguel. Are you busy?’
You had to re-read it to confirm what you had found and made sure you weren’t just imagining it. But when it was confirmed you huffed in amusement and quickly responded to him.
‘Not busy. Haven’t had a customer for about half an hour, planning on coming in?’
One would have thought you would have gotten a response to that. Even a warning before the bell dinged less than ten minutes later and Miguel was walking in. His clothes were definitely more casual if not still a little expensive. The casual wear he wore this time was something white and clinging to him almost like a jacket and shirt combined while the jogger pants had a brand name of some kind stitched up the left leg. His shoes weren’t dress shoes at least, but the sun glasses he wore this time looked expensive. Jacob sat up a little straighter in the chair he was in preparing to greet him with that professional smile that Jacob was really good at forming when you just held a hand up. Miguel’s head jerked to your direction and you could just make out relief in the way his body relaxed.
“You’re not busy.” He said to you. Jacob’s smile faltered and he cocked a brow between the two of you, which you pointedly ignored. He hadn’t the chance to have caught Miguel last time considering he hid out in the back, but now he had no reason to hide out.
“Told you we weren’t. What you in the mood for?”
“Warm.” He stated simply. Knowing he wasn’t going to give you more than that, you decided to go for the apple butter latte that came as a runner up on your tastes in the shop. This time you did punch his name in next to the small drink and the sticker came out with a bright ‘Miguel’ stamped over it. He paid in cash and you denied him once before he was already throwing the excess into the tip jar. He looked winded, like he had ran for a while just to make it in time.
‘Should tell him we don’t close for another hour and a half.’ But you didn’t. Instead, you turned and was about to set to making his drink when Jacob slipped up.
“I got this, go talk to your friend.” You raised a brow at him knowingly. He just grinned faintly. “Go on, you got the last one anyways.” Although you thought briefly about arguing you didn’t. Miguel was standing at the edge of the counter close to where you would come through when you approached and braced against it. His eyes were taking in the shop entirely and the decorations you and Jacob had started on. At some point the two of you had gotten bored and decided to leave it for another week, made more obvious by the cut out letters for ‘HAPPY HALLOWEEN’ abandoned in a pile on a chair behind said counter. At your approach his eyes snapped to you. These sunglasses were tucked back and into his hair to smooth it out of his gaze. It looked more stylized this time, though still wind swept. Possibly from the suspected running.
You didn’t know exactly where to begin when you approached. You weren’t normally one for small talk and your social ring was narrowed down to almost only Jacob and the two stray cats by your apartment building you sometimes snuck in. Sometimes. The others you worked with here made for good talk to pass the time, but Jacob was the only one you’ve ever intentionally seen outside of work. So, figuring out how to start a casual conversation with a new-ish person felt very strange.
“Never seen somethin’ like this?” You asked and motioned to the decorations. His eyes followed your hand rather than look at the decorations.
“Not handmade, not anymore.” There was a very long pause of silence and you realized the conversation was falling dry before he suddenly cleared his throat and continued to speak. “My…brother and I, we used to make them during dia de muertos.” When he spoke Spanish his voice sounded richer. Lower. Like that was truly how he should be talking, not the almost uncertain words he’s been saying. Realizing what he said his mouth shot open. “Sorry, it’s-“
“Day of the Dead.” You clarified. His eyebrows rose and you offered him a somewhat amused smile. “Don’t worry, I only know the basics. I should have studied more in school, but I wasn’t the most scholarly kid.”
“You speak Spanish?” He asked still as if the words you’d said went in one ear and out the other.
“Basics. Lo…” Your words started to falter and you felt a pinch in your expression.
“Básico.” He stated. When you tried to pronounce it once, you got to witness his lips curl up just slightly, very faintly, and he repeated it again. “You should continue studying it.” He said after you pronounced the word two more times. You snorted.
“I should but I find it a little hard to just…learn it on my own. Terrible at making myself focus.” The sad truth. It was why when you started so many hobbies they often ended in a lack of development. Probably why the spare bedroom in the apartment you managed to snag for cheap was a pile up of several creative outlets you didn’t find time for anymore. Just as Miguel opened his mouth to speak Jacob showed up and sat the drink between them on top of a paper bag. You could witness the confusion on Miguel’s face as he stood a little straighter and turned to give Jacob a confused look.
“I only got the coffee.” He stated. Jacob shrugged.
“Well, I had a few leftovers from the day and I don’t keep them overnight, so…” He just shrugged it off again. Miguel carefully pinched the bag between his fingers and opened it. You already knew from the rich smell alone what was in there; the cream cheese danishes. And they had been heated up, it seems. You could tell when the smell met Miguel’s nose because his look of confusion and caution turned to interest as he opened it further already reaching in to pull one out.
“I prefer the cherry ones, but those sell fast.” You stated. Miguel examined the danish with narrowed eyes before he turned to take a bite of the edge. Based upon the slackened expression you could compare to when he tried your coffee the first time you were able to assume he enjoyed it. Even as some of the cream cheese filling caught the tip of his nose and you reached out to slide some napkins his way. That brief flush of pink on his cheeks was satisfying as he quickly set to cleaning. Next was the same expression but after he sipped the coffee made for him, eyes immediately finding you.
“It’s good.” He said and you just grinned. Jacob made a noise aside you.
“I made it, of course it’s good.” The way Miguel looked at Jacob then you was akin to him trying to figure out through your own reactions how to handle him. It was amusing, though Jacob stretched himself up and announced a little too loudly. “Well, while you start cleaning up, I’m going to do paperwork. I say we close early tonight.” And he was gone, disappearing into the back quickly.
Leaving only the two of you.
You didn’t let Miguel’s presence bother you when you went around the counter to find the sign and flick it off, locking the door with a turn.
“I’ll let you out when you’re done, no rush though. Him doing paperwork takes forever on it’s own and most of out here is already cleaned up-“
“Go to dinner with me.” You blinked. Miguel blinked. When you looked at him in a mix of disbelief and confusion, he looked just as shocked as you. His hand on the cup tightened until it creaked and the danish almost crumbled in his other hand. Now his cheeks weren’t just a brief pink, they were full on flushed and his eyes darted everywhere he could find without looking at you. “That was rude. And rash. I apologize. I shouldn’t have done that, if you’re uncomfortable I can leave now. I’m sorry, again.”
“Jesus, calm down, it’s fine.” Your words cut through the way his panicked voice started to rise and he stopped suddenly. “I was just…a little caught off-guard.”
“Right.” He muttered. Now he was looking down at his drink with a narrowed glare, his frown sharpening his features. You could easily see he was upset now and you realized how scary of an expression that could be if you were the coffee cup he was staring at. But you weren’t.
“Do you mean like, now or…?”
“What? No. No, not now, it’s late and I didn’t plan on-I have an idea of where but I didn’t-“ He cut himself off suddenly and looked to you with a widened gaze. “Is this a yes?”
“I mean, yeah, but I need to know when. If there’s some kind of dress code or anything.” It had definitely been a while since you’ve been on a date. Maybe even in high school. Prom, maybe? You didn’t go with your classmates to college right after school and your date from prom, possibly considered your partner at the time, had moved away for their first semester of college. You weren’t as heart broken as you probably should have been, then again it felt very one-sided towards the end. Both of you had known it was coming and it just trickled into a tender friendship that fizzled out shortly after. That being said, you weren’t sure how much the dating scene has changed. Especially not for someone who was older than you, considering it looked like it must have been a while since he had this same experience if his nervous disposition was anything to go based off of.
Wait, was this even a date?
‘He called it dinner.’ You were jumping the gun, weren’t you? Don’t over think it, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was what he meant or if it was just dinner. But mostly strangers didn’t just invite you out to dinner, right? Well, how could you be sure? You weren’t a social butterfly.
“I’m heading out of town again tonight, uh, could I just…Mierda, I’ll call you.” He finished off, turning away with the faintest scowl fighting to take root.
“Okay.” You were lifting to turn up the chairs when you continued. “I usually work the entire day we’re open, though there’s a few times I don’t have to. With school back in, some of the workers are busy there during the mornings, so…”
“Dinner means in the evening.” He said it in a deadpan voice, as if it was obvious what he had meant. You snorted.
“Smart ass.” It slipped out, a whisper that you were certain he couldn’t hear as you lifted another chair and turned it upside down. But when you heard his own snort you turned to find his lips turning up into something amused that he quickly washed away when you looked at him. He was immediately back to his drink and the danish that was finished in just a couple more bites. By the time you finished turning up the chairs and started to circle back he looked finished, the bag stuffed by the presumably empty coffee cup as he stood there. When you nodded to the door he nodded in return. It wasn’t a far enough walk, but it almost felt in a way like when one walked someone up to their door. How were you supposed to say goodnight? You couldn’t pull the customer service voice, not on him, but you couldn’t just hug him or pat his arm like he was a friend. Miguel was very much still some kind of stranger to you. So, when you unlocked the door and opened it up for him, you smiled in what you hoped was some kind of casual way.
“Goodnight, Miguel.” You made sure to keep eye contact even as he paused in his steps. It would have been rude not to, right? Or was it rude to keep eye contact this long. You weren’t sure because he wasn’t looking away or moving now and you didn’t know what to do besides hold the door a little tighter. Suddenly, he jerked his head away and cleared his throat.
“Yes, goodnight, I’ll….I’ll call you.”
It wasn’t even another week when you got the call. It was on the weekend, on one of the rare days you were off and it was early. Early enough that you had just crawled out of bed after Sunrise to wander down for your mail in the shared boxes of the apartment and sneak out some wet food for the strays. Your pajamas clung under the burly jacket you had tugged on and you were glad you had brought your phone down with you.
“Are you busy today? Tonight?” He sounded in a rush and he sounded distant. The call almost cut out on you more than once and you had to pause in walking down the hall to your apartment to just keep it going. You weren’t busy. Your weekends were either filled with you staying home and attempting one of the many hobbies you often dropped, or wandering through the city to the parks to watch as other people found entertainment. Reading was also another thing you tried, but focusing on the words often came as a challenge. So, you told him no and he told you to meet him at the address he was going to send you. You managed to pull from him at least an idea of what to wear considering he wasn’t telling you much else and seemed in some kind of rush. Casual. You could do casual.
With Autumn setting chills in the early ending evenings, you dressed cozy. A thicker shirt with shorter sleeves, but a cozy orange cardigan that swallowed you up and hung down to your knees almost. High-waisted pants and a firm belt, you even pulled on a matching knitted beanie you bought from a thrift store down the road and mended back to life yourself when you went on a knitting kick. It lasted long enough to fix the beanie, at least. The place he had picked looked not as casual as you had been expecting, but witnessing people going in wearing sweat pants and tees made you feel a little better about standing outside waiting. It wasn’t terribly crowded, yet, but you could see more and more faces slipping in as you double-checked your phone.
‘He wouldn’t.’ You had to quickly throw out the idea he would stand you up. If that’s what he had wanted he would have set up the date-dinner much earlier in the week and called last minute that he couldn’t make it. Well, there was still a chance for a late night call. But to your relief when you looked up he was suddenly approaching, crossing the street when the light changed at a brisk pace. He wasn’t as casual as you, though you figured the man didn’t even know how casual worked. A nice, wool jacket with the buttons straining because his torso was as wide as he was tall, the muscles more emphasized with the sleeves rolled up. How he hid that physique in the times you’ve seen him you weren’t sure. In fact, you didn’t realize just how much mass he carried to him until he was in front of you and you could pick up the smell of a rich cologne he must have just sprayed on him.
“Sorry, I was…” He trailed off and his gaze bounced around like he was looking for the words that eluded him.
“I mean, you’re not exactly late. Well, three minutes, which means you’ll just have to buy dessert.” You shrugged it off, an action so normalized to you that you barely realized you did it. His face was tense as he looked you over, then he seemed to deflate a little and huff.
“A fair price.” He said, but it was hard to find even a trace of humor in the way he spoke. He got the door before you could, rushing around you just to make sure.
The place he had picked felt both terribly fancy and like you had just walked into someone’s home. The walls were a rustic wood darkened to hold the orange glow of the hanging chandeliers well, mimicking the warmth of the low-hanging lights over each table and booth. Vines of dangling plants were looped over the walls, the dividers between booths, and even around a few of the lights. Pictures in black and white were every where. Looking up got you lost in the rich, brick red of the ceiling hidden behind the lighting. There was a bar which didn’t look to be as crowded as the rest of the place. Miguel was at your side when the hostess greeted you with a smile.
“How many?”
“Two.” Miguel sounded gruff when he spoke. As if being polite wasn’t natural to him. The hostess faltered briefly, though smiled a little brighter at your own polite smile. Plucking up menus she guided you past families and couples to a booth tucked into the middle back, close to the bar but far enough from others that the silence in that corner was appreciated. When she departed and you both settled, you realized how rushed this was.
You didn’t know what to talk about.
Small talk was something you couldn’t just think up. It wasn’t a natural thing you did other than occasionally humming or asking about someone’s day for the sake of being polite at work. Most of the time they just wanted to talk to you and not hear your opinion back. You could deal with that. But a possibly not a date dinner was something you were supposed to talk at.
‘Simple.’ You told yourself. Something simple, nothing to pressure or push him.
“Have you been here before?” You hadn’t. You didn’t even normally go this way in the city. Which shocked you considering you often enjoyed the more rustic designs. Much like your work place, hand decorating with traditional decorations was tragically rare, which made this gem of a place all more special. He wasn’t even looking at the menu, an answer before he even spoke.
“I try to often. I don’t always get a chance to…with my…um, job. I’m usually busy, but it’s…nice.” He settled on and uncrossed his arms to brace against one on the table. His fingers twitched and occasionally tapped in an obviously nervous motion. Keep going. Had to keep the conversation going somehow.
“Well…I guess this means it’s my turn to ask you what your favorite thing here is.” Simple. Efficient. Easy. Talk to him like Jacob, right? No, not like Jacob, or there would have been some bickering and kicking under the table at this point.
‘Just…talk.’
Either unaware of your dilemma or not acknowledging (both being good for you) he leaned into the table and flipped open the menu to motion at a section titled ‘Wraps’.
“Adana wrap,” You started to try and read it past the tip of his finger, but he continued. “It’s lamb.” You read over the rest of the ingredients and hummed. “But the rest are good to.” He quickly added as if your silence was unnerving him further.
“I’ll try it.” You said simply and turned the menu to look at the drinks. When Miguel didn’t speak for a moment you looked up and found him just staring at you, face mostly unreadable. When you caught his gaze and smiled up at him he pulled his hand back quickly and looked down at the menu like his mind wasn’t made up.
‘Cute.’ How could someone like him be so…nervous? It was reassuring that he wasn’t confident. Overly confident, at least. The fact you both felt out of your element was reassuring in a weird way, meaning when the waitress appeared to take your orders and soon returned with your ordered drinks (water for both of you) you didn’t feel pressured to speak. Up until you let the straw of your water cup rest on your lip and you looked to him.
“You said your job takes you out of the city, right?” He paused in tracing the condensation on the glass with his thumb and nodded. “What kind of job is it?”
Wrong question; his shoulders tensed and his eyes turned away suddenly. You sat up straighter and prepared for some kind of damage control. He beat you to it.
“I run a private security organization.” That didn’t sound real, but you knew it must have been. There were a lot of professions that didn’t sound real and turned out to be.
“That’s…well, that explains a lot.” He blinked at you and you motioned to him. “You look like you’d be a bouncer at some bar, so private security boss guy isn’t so far off.” He looked almost insulted, then confused, then embarrassed.
“Thank you?” He sounded back to uncertain. Spurred on by your question he fired off one of his own quickly. “Are you from Nueva York?”
“Yep, though my parents aren’t. They moved once I graduated high school and I managed to snag a way back here.”
“Your parents don’t live here?” You shook your head.
“Nope, though they like to send postcards all the time.” Hence why your fridge was littered with the cheesy cards. His lips turned up slightly and you squeezed in your own question, again. “How about you?”
“Born and raised.” No other details were offered, which you briefly thought wasn’t fair but you also realized pushing it wouldn’t have done you any good. So, you just held your tongue as his next question came. “College?”
“Didn’t even think about it.” Not entirely true. You thought about it only after everyone you knew in high school was going, but moving kept you from applying and now that you’re back you’ve fallen into your routine. “Kind of do now. Sometimes.”
“What would you be interested in studying?” He was leaning into the table a little more now. It was your turn to smile.
“I think it was my turn to ask a question.” His eyebrows shot up in almost disbelief.
“Eres.…didn’t realize we were playing twenty questions.” He chipped in and this time you could barely pick out the slight trace of humor there.
“And that’s why I get to pick the place for dessert afterwards. Went out of turn, that’s a foul.” His faint twitch of a smirk was turning into a half-grin, like he still wasn’t sure how to smile properly.
“There’s fouls in twenty questions?”
“Don’t even know the rules. Amateur mistake.”
Suddenly, you found talking to Miguel was easier than you had worried about. When your wraps arrived you shouldn’t have been shocked by the portion size, yet you still were. It was big enough you began to doubt you’d finish it all, especially with the curly fries nestled underneath like some kind of bird’s nest under it. Miguel definitely had no problem in finishing his own meal and before you were halfway through. As he nibbled on the few remains of his fries and you both continued to occasionally talk about anything and everything, you subtly slid your basket in between you both. Without missing a beat after your verbal permission, he started to pluck at your fries as well. Then the last quarter of your wrap, which he did hesitate further on taking. Only after you insisted you were full and wanted to save room for dessert did he eventually eat it.
When it came time to pay Miguel was fast, taking up the receipt just as you were digging for your wallet.
“Hey, no, nuh-uh.” You were trying to reach for it but the man was holding it away from you. Tempted to brace on the table and try to go for it, you just huffed instead. “Come on, we can split it.” He was smirking this time. Still not a smile, but this smirk definitely looked like the cocky expression you would have expected from a man like him. Though it disappeared quickly when you swiped again and he clicked his tongue.
“I was raised that if I invited someone on a date they weren’t supposed to pay.” At his words you faltered and he took the chance to slide a card into it and offer it to the passing waitress. As he settled with a proud expression, you couldn’t help yourself.
“A date, huh?” Now any confidence he had melted. Your eyebrow raise, the slight tilt of your head, the way you crossed your arms. It wasn’t a bad expression, but it wasn’t a welcomed one either. Something in the middle you carefully held even as he faltered and sat a little straighter, that pink returning to the top of his cheeks you found you liked so well.
“Dinner.” He said instead, correcting himself when he thought you were upset. You held it for a moment longer, watching how his eyes averted before shooting back to keep the drawn out eye contact. Then you snorted and broke into a soft laugh, bringing a hand up to cover your face and gaze from his just as you caught sight of his confused expression.
“I like calling this a date.” You said and watched how his face pinched and went through several emotions. Then it settled on embarrassed and frustrated. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, I thought it was a date…kind of thought I was jumping the line there, actually.” At your explanation he seemed to soften again and when the receipt and his card was brought, he had completely relaxed back in.
It was officially a date. Only confirmed a little more once you both hit the street and he stood a little closer suddenly, as if voicing what this actually was had given him a little more confidence. Not much, but enough that he stood closer.
“Dessert?” He asked and you had actually forgotten about it.
“If you’re up for it.”
“I thought that was a given, chula, since I…what, broke a rule I wasn’t even aware of?” He said it without humor but you found it easier to spot now that you’ve spent so long just talking to him. A twitch in his face told you everything you needed to know.
“I know a place.”
Knowing a place, however, took you guys another thirty minutes through Nueva until you found yourself at the particular bakery you always enjoyed going to. It wasn’t one you got a chance to visit often since it was nowhere near where you lived or worked meaning you had to have a good reason to go this far out. Or be bored. In this case, it was an excuse to have more time with Miguel who had left the comfortable silence to finally speak once he saw the vibrant sign.
“Highline?” He read off and you nodded already moving to open the door before he could. Though he appeared stubborn and wouldn’t move until you slipped in and he got to hold the door for you. It was a small shop, but it wasn’t the traditional shops you typically favored. This one was more to the Nueva style with the counter replaced by terminals where you would type in your orders, brought out through the belt rotating through the wall. Tables were numbered and the glow had been softened for the evening to a light, calmer blue. Music was faint and covered up by the chattering of who was in there.
“I like coming here when I can.” You explained when he looked around. He followed you to a terminal and watched as you opened up the catalog of said baked goods. You were very, very aware of when he leaned in over you to examine it, his height giving him that type of advantage. He wasn’t even touching you, but with how close he was all you had to do was take one step back and you would be bumping right into him. He didn’t seem to be noticing just watching as your fingers dragged through the different baked goods. His hand raised suddenly and he caught something before you could keep sliding, your hand hovering next to his.
“Tienen flan?” When he whispered the Spanish the breath he released with it was felt across your ear and you couldn’t stop your head from twitching away from it slightly. “Have you ever had flan before?” When he asked the question you could see just what he was looking at. Caramel flan, a warm brown and white concoction that reminded you of a much flatter cheesecake.
“No. Am I about to?”
“Would that be okay?”
“You’re paying, so…” He huffed and you managed to avoid it, yet you still shivered when he took to tapping at it, quickly adding two servings of flan to the order before he looked through the drinks they offered. A bottled green tea of some kind was clicked by him and when he added it you reached out to add something similar, though with an orange painted across it. Your hands bumped in the motion and you could see when he tensed, his fingers curling with uncertainty before he finished up the order and paid for it. The number for the table you were going to settle as was punched in and the two of you settled into the booth together.
This time, in the cramped space, you did bump legs with him, something that startled you and quickly embarrassed him as he pulled them back quickly. When his knee hit the table and made a sharp sound and he cursed in Spanish, you just laughed a little.
“Has it been a while for you?” He looked puzzled and you motioned in a circular motion with your hand. “Dating, I mean. You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want, I get it’s a weird question, but…well, it’s been a while for me. Since high school, actually.” The noise he released you couldn’t place, but his expression was shocked and mouth partially agape.
“¿Por qué?” He asked and you knew the words even as he continued. “Why?”
“I mean, wasn’t exactly advertising myself out there. If you hadn’t come through and asked me out I probably would have just…I don’t know, keep going like this until I guess someone else would have.” It wasn’t the healthiest thing. Or maybe it was. It kept you from chasing after someone and if they were willing to ask you on a date then that meant they at least had interest in your first. Worse case scenario it leads to nothing and you and that person share a few awkward encounters afterwards. If they hung around. Best case? Well, you date someone.
Miguel seemed to be mulling this over when the flan suddenly appeared and the drinks aside it. His long reach gave the advantage of being able to get things down with ease and he passed a fork across to you as you eyed the jiggling item. You could tell it was soft without really reaching out to touch it. Still, you poked it briefly with the fork.
“It’s been a while for me too.” He admitted it just as you started to poke your first bite free, working the fork under it. When you looked up he was looking at you. More at your face than your attempts at the flan. The way his frown pulled a little further down, the way you could see the sudden edge of tired just pulling at the corners of his eyes, you decided you weren’t about to push the subject. Not when he looked like some type of dog that had just been kicked out into the street. So, instead, you hummed in acknowledgment and took a bite.
The noise you let out was a mix between a grunt and gasp as you covered your mouth to speak.
“Holy shit-sorry, no, it’s good.” Miguel looked briefly startled, then amused. Very amused, actually, as he actually grinned. A full grin this time that looked foreign and out of place despite the dimples and way it suited him to grin more.
“Knew you were a caramel person.”
“I’m a sweets person, actually.” You corrected and started to poke at your next bite. “It’s a dangerous thing considering where I work. Jacob definitely spoils me at times.”
“Your co-worker?”
“Boss, actually, the one you met the other night. He’s usually who gets stuck with me considering I’m the only other person next to him with every day open.”
“You don’t…do anything else?”
“I sleep.” He gave you a look. “I mean, I have a bunch of stuff I kind of enjoy, the issue is…motivation? I don’t know, hard to stick with one thing at once.” The look he gave you this time was one of understanding. “You?”
“Work.” He stated flatly and you snorted.
“Seems we’re not so different then.”
Something in the way he looked at you conveyed that he didn’t agree with what you said, but he still hesitated to speak.
“Maybe.”