Memories - PHAN

8

We awoke the next day from a call from the hotel telling us we needed to checkout and leave.

Phil groggily climbed over me to start getting ready. I shoved my face in the pillow, feeling too much like shit to move, but Phil shook me roughly, and dragged me into a sitting position.

I groaned, and started to pack up all of our things, my head still pounding. Phil dug through the mess we'd made, looking quite dead himself. Half the blankets and pillows were sprawled across the floor, and I felt bad for the maid who would get our room.

After ten minutes of pulling on clothes, complaining and double-checking for left objects, we trudged downstairs to checkout. We didn't have time to do our hair and I knew we looked messy and like we'd just crawled out of bed. Phil's hair stuck up in random places, but he looked unbelievable adorable while I probably looked like I'd been mauled by a bear.

I stood next to him as he checked us out of the hotel, and I just stared at him. It definitely looked like he had sex hair; it stuck up at the ends around his face and ruffled up adorably on the crown of his head. Stubble lined his jaw, and his eyelids were drooped but his eyes still shone and his skin looked translucently pale and perfect.

I didn't snap out of my gaze until he started to turn away to leave. I followed behind him, and I stared at his impossibly broad shoulders and subtle curves and cute little butt, feeling a bit too tired to be ashamed.

"Do you want to go get breakfast?" He asked just as I looked up from checking him out. He had a small smile on his face, and I nodded shyly, feeling small butterflies in the base of my stomach. He held open the door for me and I blushed slightly walking through.

He'd always been amazing and beautiful, but the events of last night seemed to shine a whole new light on him. After we'd settled down a bit, we both got in the bed, bringing all of the blankets and pillows to create what seemed like the comfiest nest ever.

He lay close to me, our legs and arms brushing, and the heat seeming to radiate across the bed.

"I'm really happy." I had mumbled, being still disoriented and blissed out from the champagne. He smiled, just staring at my face at a distance that felt nerve rackingly intimate.

"Like, I don't have to worry about university or what I'm doing with the rest of my life. I feel more carefree, and surprisingly comfortable around you. It's nice...feeling like this." I carried on, letting my eyes wander over his face.

"I'm glad. I'm actually really glad you're comfortable with me. You can trust me, you know? I care about you more than anyone, and no matter what happens you can count on me for literally anything. I'd put you before almost anyone and I think I understand you better than anyone...at least that's what you used to tell me. But yeah, you're my favourite and you can depend on me until forever." He said quietly, his mouth turning up at the edges.

I just stared at him for a moment, not expecting to hear what he just said.

My heart fluttered at his sudden speech, and I buried my face in the pillow as I smiled widely. I almost wanted to squeal, because I'd never been anyone's favourite anything. I'd always been the backup friend or the friend who doesn't mean as much. I'd almost think Phil was lying if he hadn't sounded so genuine.

"Favourite behind Sarah Michelle Gellar." He joked, lifting my chin from the pillow. I smiled so widely it hurt, and I slapped his side lightly. I let my hand linger there, and then I shuffled closer to him. I wrapped my arm around him and pressed my face into my chest. He immediately hugged me back, and my heart continued to flutter.

"I think you're my best friend. Is that weird?" I said into his shirt.

"No, that makes me really happy." He squeezed my shoulders, and we continued to hug.