stained (phan) || book #1

sixteen

P H I L ' S P O V

"Phil? Come on! We can't be late!" Dan called.

"I'm coming!"

I took one last look at myself in the mirror before running downstairs to meet my boyfriend. We were both in tuxedos.

After telling his parents about me visiting tonight, they made reservations at a fancy Italian restaurant.

All I could think about was how out-of-place I'd look. Blue highlights, tattoos, and piercings. Sure, I can take the piercings out- but even still I won't fit in. We got into my car and drove to dinner, and as soon as we walked inside, all eyes were on us.

Chandeliers and candles lit up the room, white tablecloths and roses being decorated with plates of food and wine. A fancy bar stood at the end, a talented bartender flipping a drink to impress his customers. The waiters were dressed nice, tuxedos for the boys and black dresses for the girls.

I gulped.

Dan grabbed my hand. "We'll be fine."

I nodded nervously and we searched for his parents, finding them at a booth chatting. I stared, seeing how much Dan looked like his dad. He had his mother's nose and hair color, but everything else is different.

They stood once they noticed us, Mr. Howell extending his hand. I slowly took it, shaking it. "You must be Phil. We've heard lots about you," he spoke, a small smile on his lips.

"Dad," Dan whimpered, embarrassed.

"I'm Mrs. Howell, nice to meet you," she grinned, suddenly pulling me into a hug instead of a subtle handshake. I gasped in surprise but hugged her back, looking over her shoulder to see Dan giggling. She pulled away. "Sorry, I'm a cuddler!"

Just like Dan, I thought.

"It's fine," I replied. "Should we sit?"

She nodded and they sat down on their own chair, Dan and I sitting next to each other across from them. I grabbed the menu and ran my eyes over it, surprised at how many options there were.

"Is this the cliché part where I tell the waiter I'll have what you're having?" I whispered to the pale boy next to me. He giggled, his tongue sticking out at the side.

"I don't even know what I'm having."

"Wanna split the seafood platter?"

He nodded and the waiter came. He seemed nervous when the man asked him what he wanted, so I put my hand on his thigh and ordered for him.

"We'll have the seafood platter."

Once the man left, Dan leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Thank you."

I nodded.

Mrs. Howell cleared her throat. "So, how old are you Phil?" She began.

"Seventeen. I was born in January."

"Any life goals?" Mr. Howell piped in.

There's the question.

I stiffened up. "I don't know, really. I don't think I'm going to college, and career wise I'm not sure either. I just know I don't wanna be stuck behind a desk for fifty years."

Mr. Howell grinned. "Finally, somebody who's honest. I didn't go to college either," he responded. I smiled. "So why are you in support group with Dan?"

"I guess I'm just antisocial. I mean, I'm outgoing when I talk to somebody, but if I have the choice to not say anything then I won't."

Mrs. Howell nodded. "Daniel's the same way. He has anxiety, which I'm sure you already know. He gets it from me."