xi.

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 A week later, Max called Jules at three o' clock in the afternoon. Julian, just walking out of his calc lecture (where'd he'd made sure to stare evilly at Joey for the full two hours, thinking "I hope you get hepatitis" in Joey's direction in the hopes that all the bad energy would at least give him a nasty cold), stared at his phone in slight confusion. Max didn't usually call except for emergencies, like the night he'd needed Jules to pick him up from Flanagan's.

Oh God. Was he having another emergency? So soon? Jules picked up. "What is it? Are you okay?"

Max's voice was soft. "What? Yes. Yeah, I'm fine, I-- uh-- can we get dinner tonight?"

Jules' heart bumped a few beats faster. "Uh, sure, dude." Dinner? Weird. "Which dining hall?" There was some muffled sound on the other line. "Max?"

"Yeah! Yeah, sorry. I was actually thinkin', uh, maybe we could go to a real restaurant."

Julian laughed, a sharp bark he quickly cut off. "Man, you overestimate my bank account."

"I'll pay."

Okay, weirder. "Max, are you sure you're okay? What's goin' on?"

The other boy sounded pissed. "What, a guy can't get a nice meal with his best fuckin' friend who's always takin' care of 'im?"

"Alright, alright! Yeah, sure, we can get dinner."

A sigh of relief. "Wicked. Thank you. Sorry I snapped like that, it's just— it's important."

Alarm bells. "What's goin' on here, Max?"

"I'll see you tonight!"

Max hung up.

Julian stood still, staring at the dark phone screen. The fuck was that? He hadn't sat down to dinner at a real restaurant since— Jesus, since he'd seen his parents last. His summer send-off, a "we'll miss you so much!" succulent chinese meal.

Making things stranger, he hadn't talked to Max much all week. His normal offers to study together or watch a movie had been shot down. Julian tried not to worry about it. He figured Max was still recovering from Joey Thatchlin-related trauma. He sure as hell would be.

The morning after the incident, Max woke up before Julian and slipped away in silence. He left a note on the pillow on a pink sticky note in black ink that simply read "thanks. will call later!!!", but he never did call.

After a brief talk with Lenny, the two decided that Max just needed time, and though they continued to offer opportunities to hang out, they didn't push.

But now this. Out of the blue, an invitation to a sit-down restaurant. What the fuck was Jules supposed to make of that? Was Max going to apologize for being distant? Admit some atrocity? Was he trying to thank Julian for saving him (though Jules insisted multiple times that no "thank you" was required)?

Julian shot Lenny a text: "Did Max invite u to dinner tonight??"

And with nothing else to do, he walked back to the dorms, gears turning behind his dark eyes.

~~~

What do you wear when the boy you're in love with is buying you dinner but he doesn't know you're in love with him and he's acting strange for reasons you can't decipher? Jules wished to God he knew the answer. He tried on increasingly ridiculous combinations as he grew frustrated, not knowing if a button down was too formal or jeans were too informal.

Lenny (who Jules learned had not been invited to the meal) looked on in amusement. "Just wear fuckin' jeans and a sweater, these shirts are gettin' batshit, man."

"Shut up, Len. I don't even know where the fuck he's takin' me."

Lenny gestured to the brown button down with red roses asymmetrically strewn across is that Julian had just discarded. "This shit won't fly no matter where the hell you're goin', man. I wouldn't take you to Mickey D's in this fuckin' shirt."

Jules grabbed the shirt in contempt. "I wasn't gonna wear that one anyways, asshole. Jesus. Sorry, you're right, I'm bein' stupid, just, what the fuck is this situation, anyways? I mean, I save the guy's ass, he doesn't speak to me for a week, and now he wants to buy me dinner?"

Len gasped. "You're nervous!"

Julian pulled at the collar of button-down-shirt-attempt 7. "I thought that was fuckin' obvious."

"You really love this guy, huh?"

Jules bristled. "We agreed not to talk about it anymore."

"Sorry, dude," Lenny remarked, throwing his hands up in surrender, "but it's hard to talk about anything else when you're so whipped."

"Shut up."

"Who knows? Maybe he's takin' you out to confess his love."

"Alright, that's it, ginger!" Julian cried, jumping on Len and raising a fist.

Lenny threw his hands in front of his face. "Stop it, stop it, I surrender!"

~~~

author's note: we are almost at the end folks!! there is only one more part but i want to make sure it's perfect, so it might be a couple days <3 but thank yall so much for reading and voting!! thanks for sticking with this story!

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