radio

34

dan

"hi, you're on time," phil greets me too normally, like he wasn't trying to hurt me just two hours ago. i roll my eyes and decide to ignore his greeting, pulling my bag off my shoulders and opting to sit in an armchair rather than next to him on the couch. he eyes me warily as i pull out my phone and scroll too quickly to pay attention to anything, and i'm happy to spend the rest of my ten minutes looking at blurry pictures and maintaining the awkward silence.

rebecca comes and goes, the same usual warm up routine to help flex my vocal chords, a little bit of friendly chatter with me and a little bit of not so friendly chatter with phil but it's alright. i'm used to all of this and i've accepted that phil can just never grow as a person. he will remain an asshole, rebecca will remain a bitch (in certain situations involving phil) and i will remain pining after my boss like a useless piece of shit.

what a great storyline.

"so," phil attempts to break the 5 hour long silence. "how was practice?"

"the usual," i shrug my shoulders as i flip through the new and improved version of my debut single. we still need to finalise and record it. "are we going to practice the song today?"

"i was hoping you'd join me for dinner," he looks at me expectantly and my cheeks flush.

"yeah," i nod mindlessly and then shake my head like a lunatic. "no, i mean no,"

"why not?" jesus christ this man can never know what he's done wrong and it annoys me. do i have to spell out every single thing for him?

"really?" i groan, shoving the file in my bag. i know he isn't in the mood to practice today and he's just going to vomit a series of meaningless apologies just to make me suffer later.

"what?"

"nothing phil, i have to go, i don't have the time to do this today,"

"you don't have time for having dinner?" he raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms across his chest. his full sleeved shirt tightens around his biceps and my lips part slightly—god, he's hot.

"yeah no, i don't have time for having dinner with you," i regain my composure, well not really since all i can now think about is his hands and his mouth and his stupid floppy hair—

"i'm your boss, you know?" my mouth falls open at his ridiculous statement.

"you're gonna use that against me? just because i won't hang out with you?"

"i'm not hanging out, i," he pushes his hair off his forehead and a smirk stretches across his pink lips. "i want to discuss something,"

"you have daddy issues, you know that?" i angrily zip up my bag and flop back on the chair because i have a feeling this argument isn't gonna die any soon.

"sorry i stopped listening after daddy," he responds after a second and i can feel the heat in my cheeks as i look away from him. god dammit, he's good at this.

"i-is that your kink or something?" i pretend to be completely unaffected but of course he catches onto my embarrassment and gets off the couch, making his way over to me and leaning forward to run his fingers along the collar of my t-shirt.

"why? is it yours baby boy?" i push his hand away from where it was creeping up my neck and get up agitatedly. what the fuck.

"fuck off phil,"

"it's daddy for you," he laughs loudly when i blush darker than humanly possible and i puff my cheeks and run my hands through my hair to hide my humiliation.

"come on," he takes my hand after a minute and begins to drag me out of the office as i struggle to keep up with his fast pace.

"what the hell phil where are you taking me?" i fight his grip and he just pulls me forward and throws his arm over my shoulder so i'm standing closer to him.

"dinner," he shrugs. "chinese or thai?"

"mexican," i groan in defeat and he grins at me before leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"whatever you say baby,"

--
apparently im not dead wbu