The Beginning

Dan

I wake up, tangled in Phil's lanky body, my head snuggled in the crook of his arm. His head is awkwardly tilted back, his mouth open. Did that really happen last night? It doesn't feel real, and maybe it shouldn't. It felt awfully fast, and what if Phil doesn't actually feel the same way about me? He had always been SO nice to me--to everyone. His specialty is pushing his own feelings aside to care for everyone else, he must have felt bad for me.
Slowly, I slither out from under his other arm, careful not to wake him. He is so fucking beautiful, I can't take my eyes away. But, eventually, I do, because I am not going to let somebody as gorgeous as Phil lead me on. Self control, Dan, remember what your therapist tells you.
It is 8:45 exactly, and i sneak out of my room to make tea. I start to boil water, and wait for it. Lying face-down on the couch has always been my favourite activity, so of course, that is what i do. Groaning into the coushins, i re-live last night. It was all I ever wanted to happen, so why am i so shaken up about it? It was fucking movie material; the desperate, crying soul helplessly reaching out for his lover. That's some real Notebook-ey shit right there.
The kettel dings at me, and i push myself up from the couch to see my bedroom door opening from the hallway. Shit, i think, this is going to be so awkward. He never told me he loved me, or even liked me, so of course I cant act like we are anything more than friends.
Phil's hair is a mess, and there is a shadow of light stubble on his neck. His eyes are partially closed, as he walks like a zombie into our kitchen. As soon as he sees me, though, his eyes light up and he grins. "Morning," he says, his voice gruff. My cheeks become hot, and I can tell I am blushing like an idiot. "Morning." I whisper, fighting to hold back a big, childish smile.