FLIRT (Phan)

quatre

As Chris interrogated me about the events which had unfolded the night before, across campus a very similar conversation was transpiring between Phil and his friend PJ.

"Hey Peej?" Phil asked, rubbing his eyes as his friend entered their bedroom, waking him up, "Have you seen Dan?"

"Who?" PJ ruffled his brow, confused.

"Dan. You know, that kid that was with Chris," Phil yawned.

"Uh, no, why would I have seen him?" PJ asked.

"I slept with him last night," Phil answered, his face falling a little.

"Well good for y—wait," PJ shot Phil a look, "In here?"

"Oh fuck off," Phil laughed, "As if you and Chris have never fucked in here before."

"I don't know what you're talking about," PJ turned away to hide his blush from Phil. "I'm sure—what's his name?—Dan?—went home with Chris."

"No, I—" Phil's stomach flipped over, "He stayed the night."

"You let him stay?" PJ asked, shocked.

"Uh, yeah." A guilty look spread across Phil's face.

"What?" PJ asked, concerned. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I—I may have asked him to stay," Phil admitted, a little embarrassed.

"What?" PJ stared at him, wide-eyed, "What got into you?"

"I dunno," Phil shrugged, blushing, "He was really cute and sweet and I just kind of thought—"

"No," PJ interrupted, "No, you weren't thinking. You weren't thinking at all."

"What are you talking about?"

"He's a theatre dork!" PJ said, exasperated, "They can't keep their mouths shut! What are you gonna do when he goes around telling everyone that you—"

"Look Peej," Phil rolled his eyes, "Just because you're obsessed with this whole 'no homo' appearance, doesn't mean that I have to prescribe to it as well."

"Phil," PJ stared at him as if he had begun speaking German or something, "Do you even hear yourself? Like, actually hear yourself?"

"Yes!" Phil defended, "Do you hear yourself? You're one to talk anyway! As if you don't fuck Chris every opportunity you get."

"Yeah, fuck him. Not give him goodnight kisses and cuddle him all night!" PJ shrieked, "There's only so much you can blame on the alcohol, Phil."

"Well, maybe I don't wanna blame it on the alcohol," Phil said quietly.

"Phil, listen to me," PJ sat on the edge of the bed next to Phil, "You are the president of a fraternity. You are a starter on the baseball team. Do you know what would happen if people thought—if they knew you were—"

"What, gay?" Phil huffed, "It isn't a bad word you know."

"Around here it is."

"How can you just say that?" Phil asked, "Doesn't it bother you? At all?"

"Why would it bother me?" PJ asked.

Phil gave him an unimpressed look. "You don't fool me."

"I'm not gay!" he defended.

"Please," Phil rolled his eyes.

"I can't be gay," PJ corrected himself. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because some of us want to get recruited, that's why!" he retorted.

"Is baseball literally the only thing you care about?"

"Kind of!"

"More than Chris?" Phil raised his eyebrows.

PJ sighed, "I don't care about Chris."

"I don't buy that," Phil said, "You know I don't."

"You know what, I'm over this conversation," PJ stood, crossing to the wardrobe and grabbing some clean underwear, "I'm gonna go shower. If you wanna throw your life away on some freshman then be my guest, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Phil rolled his eyes, falling back on his bed and pulling the blankets over him. He was tired. Tired from staying up until five in the morning, but more than that, he was tired of hiding. I understand that feeling, but I wasn't there and PJ was being less than sympathetic. I honestly don't know what would have happened if Chris hadn't convinced to call him back, causing his phone to ring at that exact moment.

"Hello?"

"Hey Phil!" I said, trying not to laugh as Chris had a minor freak-out across the room.

"Uh, who's this?" Phil asked.

"Oh, it's Dan," I said, my face going red, "From last night. You, uh, gave me your number at Starbucks that one time. Remember?"

"Oh, right. I forgot about that," Phil smiled, "You saved it?"

"Well yeah, duh," I said, "I'd have to be pretty stupid not to save your number."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" he asked.

"It means I could sell it to the cheerleaders for some big money," I joked. He didn't laugh. Great, this was going wonderfully. "I mean, because you're really cute obviously," I said, attempting to cover the bad joke.

"You think so?" he asked. Not exactly the response I was expecting from a star athlete.

"Yeah, of course," I blushed.

"You are too," he said, making my heart beat a mile a minute. Chris, noticing my expression from across the room, tried to begin a one-way game of charades, but I waved him off. "Actually," Phil said, "I, um, I was wondering if, um—" his voice trailed off, as if he was unsure of what to say.

"What?" I asked, "C'mon, tell me."

"I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime," he said, "It's probably stupid, I don't know why you'd wanna—"

"No!" I cried, "I mean, no as in yeah. I mean," my face went bright red as I tried to recover my sentence, "I mean I'd really like that."

"You would?" he asked.

"Yes. I would really, really love that."

"Wow, cool," he breathed a sigh of relief, "Uh, so, are you free this weekend?"

"Yeah," I said, "What do you wanna do? I could go over and we could watch a movie or—"

"No!" he cut me off, "Not here. I mean, we should go out. To dinner. It's on me."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," he cut me off, "Do you like Japanese?"

"Who doesn't?" I grinned, "It's my favorite."

"Mine too," he responded, "Uh, I know a place. You're Chris' roommate right? I can pick you up and we can go. Like, at 7? On Saturday?"

"That sounds awesome," I said, "So it's a date then?"

"Yeah," he said, a little uneasy, "A date."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" he said, confidence rising in his voice, "Yes, it's a date. I'll pick you up at 7."

"See you then," I said, biting my lip.

"Definitely," he said, "Um, I gotta go now. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," I said before hanging up, "Talk to you later."

"Well?" Chris nearly jumped on me as I hung up, "What? What's the scoop? You're killing me!"

"We're going on a date!" I shrieked, unable to contain my excitement.

"Oh my God, really?" Chris cried.

"Really," I beamed, "I've got a date with Phil Lester."