arms // {phan}

chapter four - phil

Chapter Four- Phil:

Iâve never been one to be nervous. When I was in third grade, I was cast as Romeo in my schools adaptation of Romeo and Juliet- called "Check Yes Julliet". I'd walked up onto the stage to perform my lines, and had done it with so much gusto that I'm pretty sure all the grandmas in the audience wept their little grandma eyes out. When I was fourteen, I went to this kids birthday party and held twelve snakes- and didnât even flinch- impressing quite a lot of girls. Even just last year I sang a song in front of the whole school during a stupid talent show just to get with a girl. The point was, I wasn't particularly shy.

But driving home with Howell in the front seat of my 1920 Mercedes Benz, his hand fidgeting nervously and eyes downcast, had my stomach in an uproar of fluttering wings. I felt like a silly high school girl asking her crush out on a date. Which was totally not what this was.

After Howellâs melt down in the locker room and my sexual joke, that had him stumbling back, blushing like he was made for it, and signing apologies out the wazoo, Iâd said:

âIf youâre done freaking out now, we could go back to my place and hang out for a bit.â

Dumb, stupid fucking Phil Lester.

I was pretty sure part of the reason my parents moved around so much- though Iâm sure they would never admit it- was because they thought I was a loner. Iâd never had a close friend or a steady girlfriend- which to be honest was pretty impractical with my current living situation. However, despite my parents beliefs, I still managed to have some sort of social life. Just- you know- not home related.

Any flings Iâd had took place strictly at the girls houses or- if in a rush- weâd end up getting handsy in the back of a school supply closet. Any friends Iâd had were usually the social delinquents of the school. Weâd bide our time either going to the cinema and throwing popcorn at the people in the rows in front of us, or standing huddled in an alley, smoking a joint while I pretended to be interested in my shoelaces.

None of the people Iâd met had ever made their way into what I called âthe family levelâ. I didnât see the point of getting close to anyone if I was just going to leave in the next couple of weeks. And obviously there was the whole thing with my parents- inevitably they would make a huge deal out of it. I could just picture it now, my mum getting all weepy and dad patting me on the back and saying âgood job, sonâ like we were in some 80âs tv show where everyone said âgoly!â and âgee whiz!â and wore excessive amounts of button up shirts.

âSo Howell,â I said, shaking my head, trying to erase the Pleasantville like world I was currently imagining. âI take it youâre not big on people. What do you like to do in your free time?â

Howell looked over at me blankly like the thought of free time was unknown to him.

âYou know, when youâre not at school, duffus. What do you like to do? Draw? Mope? Wank?â

Even though I wasnât looking at him, I could tell he was blushing.

I glanced over at him.

I knew what you meant, he signed, his cheeks rosy red. I just was thinking.

He paused as if deep in thought.

âIâm waiting bated breath over here, you know,â I said.

Howell rolled his eyes. I donât know, I like to draw and listen to music.

I gasped dramatically. âWhat?! You listen to music?â I said grabbing the area of chest over my heart. âGee Willikers, son! You sound almost like a real boy.â