The Labyrinth of You and Me

One

     "Oh, my God. Oh my--I'm so, so sorry. Sorry. Let me get that. Sorry, sorry! Please forgive me. I'll get some napkins and clean that up, don't worry about it!"
     It's eleven twenty-two in the morning, and I'm sitting in a Starbucks, where I've already managed to spill a coffee on a stranger. I rush to bring napkins back to his table and clean the mess up from the floor and from on his jacket, apologising over and over.
     This is how I know that today I am Clumsy Phil Lester. Clumsy Phil trips over his own shoes, falls out of bed in the mornings, and accidentally drinks from a cup of vinegar after mistaking it for a cup of water. Clumsy Phil also unintentionally spills piping hot coffee on people in public.
     I'm an idiot. A useless idiot.
     "Oh, no it's fine. It was an accident. You really don't have to apologise for it," I hear the guy say. He is American and sounds pretty chipper for someone who just got coffee stains all over his nice leather jacket. "Stuff like this happens to me all the time," he says.
     "Me too," I reply, laughing slightly, while on the inside I'm thanking God this guy didn't try to start a row with me.
     "What's your name?" he asks, and I tell him my name's Phil, to which he then replies, "Nice to meet you, Phil. I'm James."
     James puts out his hand. We shake.
"Funny..." I say, "My roommate's middle name is James."
     "That's nice. Say then, Phil, can I get you another coffee?" James asks. His voice is raspy and low.
     "What? That's hardly necessary, and besides, I'm the one who spilled it on you, so I ought to buy myself and you another one," I argue.
     "That settles it, then." He stands up and pushes his chair in, "I'm buying you a coffee."
     "Wha--?"
     He smiles at me cheekily as he makes his way to the cashier and orders a venti coffee for me. I don't know why he's doing this.
     "Here you are," James says.
     "Thank you. You really didn't have to, though," I tell him.
     "Yes I did."
     I give him a puzzled look, and he grins the same cheeky grin from before and laughs, and I realize this is the first time I actually get to look at him.
     He's at least a head and a half taller than me. His hair is the kind of orange-red you see on rusted metal that's been through lots of rain and mud, only brighter and lighter and more artificial-looking, like it's been dyed that color. If so, then I think his natural hair color is brown.
     He's sort of lanky while still having muscle, like his whole body is made of ribbons and wire; his skin is peachy, and there are freckles on his nose and cheeks. Overall, his face is full and has an elliptic curve until the chin, which is pointed and juts out.
     His eyes are a deep olive-gold color that gets darker farther away from the pupil.
     "Simply put, now you owe me something," he says.
     "What?"
     "I did something for you, now I'll expect you to return the favor when I need it."
     Is he serious...?
     He grabs my cup from me and pulls a pen from his pocket. He starts writing something down. I see James written in purple ink, and below it is a phone number. He returns my cup.
     "I gotta dash. Text me some time, 'kay, Phil?"
     And then just like that, he's gone out the door and I'm left standing in the middle of Starbucks until I finally get a move on.

~~~

     "Dan? You home?" I throw my empty coffee cup into the trash bin and make my way to the sitting room where Dan is comfortably in his Tumblr scrolling position.
     "Hi," Dan says without looking up.
I'm about to say hi to him when I look at him and suddenly remember James.
     James.
     Coffee cup.
     Purple ink.
     Number.
     "I'll be right back," I tell Dan. I go back to the trash bin, picking up the empty cup with James' name and number still written clearly on the cup sleeve that I slip off. I throw the cup away, but I keep the sleeve.
     "Why do you have a cup sleeve in your hand?" Dan asks when I return to the sitting room.
     "I went to Starbucks," I reply. He looks up from the computer screen.
     "Oh, really, Phil? I never would have guessed. I obviously couldn't tell you went to Starbucks when you have a Starbucks cup sleeve in your hand," he says sarcastically before rolling his eyes.
     Without thinking, I throw it at him. I throw the sleeve at him in an attempt to hit him in the face.
     Alas, Clumsy Phil is clumsy and also very forgetful and doesn't think before he acts.
     It bounces off Dan's shoulder and tumbles a little before settling on the couch. I watch him pick it up.
     "Wait, Dan, don't--" but he has already seen. He bursts out laughing his high-pitched laugh.
     "Are you serious? The barista gave you his number? That's absurd! I thought--oh my God--I thought that only happened in romance stories and films. Phil." He continues to laugh.
     "No, it's not like that. It wasn't even the barista, God." This time I'm the one who rolls my eyes. "It was just some guy I met there."
     "And what? He thought you were cute or something?"
     "I don't know! I don't think so, at least..." I tell Dan the whole story, and by the end of it, Dan is on the floor rolling around and laughing and complaining that there are tears in his eyes and that his stomach hurts.
     He sits up for a second. "You spilled your own coffee on him! My God, Phil!" Then he's back on the floor with a hand over his torso.
     By the time his laughing session is over, I'm already in my room trying to read a manga on my bed.
     Dan walks into the doorway. "Boy, how many calories did that burn?" His face is red from laughter.
     "I'm surprised the neighbors haven't made a complaint," I say.
     "Wanna go out?"
     "What?"
     "I said do you wanna go out, like, somewhere else. Out. Out of the apartment."
     I sit up. "Sure."
     "M'kay. Lemme just put on some shoes," he says, scrolling through his phone.
     "Okay," I say as I get off the bed and change my shirt to something with longer sleeves. It's supposed to get colder tonight, after all.
     I'm ready to go before Dan for once and find myself waiting on the couch for him. That's when I see the cup sleeve, set on its side, on the windowsill.
     I pick it up. I examine it. I think. I contemplate. And then I take out my phone and open a new contact. I type in James and punch in the number and set his profile picture to a picture of Nyan Cat and save his contact, but I don't call him. I don't text him. I just keep everything there in my phone... until I change my mind and decide to text him later because that would be the polite thing to do, right?
     "Phil, you ready?" I hear Dan ask.
     "Yeah," I call out to him.
     "So, you gonna toss that?" he asks, gesturing to the cup sleeve in my hand.
     "Yeah. I'm gonna put it in the bin," I tell him.
     Dan snorts. "Okay."
     I roll my eyes in his direction. "Let's go. Forget about the cup thing."
     He just laughs.
     "Oh, shut up, and let's go."
     "Okay, okay." He walks out and I close the door behind us.
     "You gonna make a video soon? Your Twitter is literally exploding," I ask Dan once we're in a cab.
     "Maybe. I might. I don't know yet. And if I do, it'll probably just be me rambling on and on about things anyway. Or it'll just be another shitstorm. Yeah, probably a shitstorm." He sighs and shrugs.
     I settle into my seat and whip my phone out. It's now or never, I guess. Yes, I am going to text James.
     Me: Hey, it's Phil :) Is this James?
     That's it. Then a few minutes later I get a reply.
     Him: Hey! I've been waiting all day to hear from you. Can I call?
     Me: Err maybe later, bit busy right now sorry
     Him: aww darn alright. Later then. An hour?
     Me: more like two sorry
     Him: okay.
     "Should we just eat out?" Dan asks.
     "Yeah, sure. Might as well since we're already out," I agree. My phone buzzes.
     James: so what exactly r u busy with?
     Me: going out to dinner
     Him: alone?
     Me: Dan's with me
     Him: Dan?
     Me: oh that's my roommate
     Him: ohh ok that makes sense
     Me: gotta go, talk to you later ^_^

~~~

     "God, I'm so full," Dan sighs as he plops himself down on the couch. He reaches for the TV remote. "Wanna watch something tonight?"
     "Yeah. Put on anything you want. I'll be right back."
     "Where are you going?"
     "I'll be right back," I repeat as I retreat to my room and close the door.
     As if on cue, my phone rings. It has been exactly two hours. "Hello?" I say into the receiver.
     "Hey, Phil!" James' voice sounds just as radiant as it did earlier.
     "Uh, hi," I say.
     "What're you up to?" he asks.
     "Well, Dan and I are about to watch something on TV."
     "You and Dan seem to do a lot of things together, huh?"
     "Yeah, I guess. I mean, we've known each other for quite a long time."
     "Are you two close?"
     "We're close enough that I shamelessly eat his cereal when he's not around." I laugh.
     "We ought to meet again sometime, Phil. It's hard to come across people like you," James says out of the blue.
     "What's that supposed to mean?"
     "It means you're a good person, and nowadays there aren't as many of those around. You're like a rare species." I hear him laugh. "But yeah, in all seriousness, let's meet somewhere again."
     "Oh, yeah. Thanks. Okay. Um, when and where would we meet, though?" I ask.
     "I dunno yet. I'll see. I'll text you, okay?" he replies.
     "Alright, then," I agree.
     "See you soon!"
     "Yeah, bye."
     "Bye!"he says dragging out the e.
I hang up.
     "Can we watch a horror movie, Phil?" Dan asks me when I reenter the sitting room. I grab a blanket from the couch and sit on the floor next to him, throwing it around the both of us.
     "Okay. If I get nightmares, it's your fault," I say to Dan. He gets up.
"We're watching it in the dark." He smirks, and then the lights are off.
     "No!"
     "Oh, yes. All or nothing, Phil."
     "Ugh, I hate you."
     We're huddled together under the blanket, Dan screaming at all the jumpscares and me clutching the blanket and biting my arm so that I don't scream like him. The movie ends at two in the morning.
     I fall asleep at five-thirty A.M. When I wake up at ten-thirty, Dan is already on the couch drinking coffee and eating cereal. He's still in pyjamas.
     "I made your coffee. It's on the counter," he says in his croaking morning voice.
     "Thanks," I say through a yawn.
"Sleep well?"
     "For the most part, yes. You?"
     "Sort of."
     "Everything okay?"
     "Yeah. Why?"
     "Just checking, that's all."
     "Were you talking to yourself last night?" Dan asks me.
     "What? No," I reply.
     "Oh. I thought I heard your voice."
     "Well, I was talking on the phone last night now that I think about it."
     "Who with?"
     "The guy from Starbucks."
     "The barista."
     "Not the barista. He's James. Just James."
     Just James. For now.