Pest//phan au

Thirteen

The next morning I woke up to four missed calls, and three voicemails from Cat. I groaned and unlocked my phone, not ready for her to yell at me.

"First voicemail:"

"Dan Jesus Christ answer your phone! I'm really worried about you! Zoe told me that she kissed you and went on and on about how you looked so dazed and I kept quiet but you need to tell me what happened and let me know you're oka--"

"Second voicemail:"

"Okay, I talked to Phil, he says you're alright but he seemed kind of down. He wouldn't tell me what was up so I think you should call him. I still expect you to call me, you asshole! What happened with Zoe? Why'd you let her kiss you when you knew what would happen? Now she expects you to talk to--"

"Third voicemail:"

"You're fucking voicemail thing keeps cutting me off. Call me back immediately."

"End of messages."

I sighed and rolled out of bed groggily. The clock read 10:45, so it was probably time to get up anyways. I hit redial and waited for Cat to pick up.

"Good morning sunshine," she grumbled.

"I'm fine," I mumbled sleepily. "Better?"

"No! Tell me what happened!"

I went into the full story about how Zoe grabbed me, and I froze, and how Phil helped me and we went out and got McDonald's. I purposefully left out the old woman and the almost-kiss.

God. The almost-kiss.

"Well, Zoe was beaming all night," she said, her voice a lot lighter. "You must be a great kisser."

I flinched at her words, remembering Phil's comment last night when I said the exact same thing.

"I bet you are."

He wanted to kiss me. He was about to kiss me and I just flew out of the car.

"Dan?"

"Mmhmm?" I responded, barely paying attention.

"What happened with you and Phil last night? You're both acting the same way."

I froze, my mouth dry. So was Phil feeling the same way I was? I don't want him to feel bad about trying to kiss me. I wanted him to. I really wanted him to. But I tend to freak out about everything.

"Nothing," I lied through my teeth.

"Call him," Cat said, and the line went dead.

I sighed and stood up, throwing the phone down. I don't want to call him. I don't want to endure the awkward conversation that would happen.

I peeled the sticky clothes off and threw them into the laundry hamper. I grabbed a loose t-shirt and some sweatpants and slid them on.

I have to call Phil. We can't let something awkward ruin the friendship we have.

I don't know how someone's emotions about a person could change so rapidly, but mine did. I hated him at first, but now I don't want him to ever leave. He can't leave; he promised.

"I'm here forever."

This is not okay. I picked up my phone and found his contact. I was about to press the call button when I heard someone knocking on the front door downstairs.

I put my phone back down on the bed and walked to the bottom of the stairs. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms around my body, watching as my dad lumbered over to the door and swung it open.