Relapse (Phan)

TWENTY SEVEN

"Phil?" Dan called to me from the kitchen across the apartment. "Phil, have you seen my shoe?"

"That isn't very specific," I laughed, closing the lid on my laptop to help him search, "Which one?"

"The left one—the zippy one," he clarified. I couldn't help but smile at his panic as I caught a glimpse of the shoe in question poking out from underneath a coat in the closet. I pulled myself slowly from my browsing position to fetch it for him.

"Is this the one?" I grinned, producing the shoe from behind my back as I entered the kitchen.

"Yes! Thank God!" he breathed, grabbing it and frantically shoving his foot into it. "You're a lifesaver Phil!"

"Well, maybe if you'd get ready more than five minutes in advance we wouldn't have this problem," I joked. He didn't respond, just finished zipping up his shoe before heading hastily toward the front door. "Hey—" I caught him by the elbow and turned him around to face me. "Just going to run off without saying goodbye are you?"

"Sorry," he apologized. I knew he was sincere, but I could tell that he was in a hurry so I gave his elbow a squeeze and said, "It's okay. Go."

"Love you," he grinned, pecking my cheek before heading out the door, "See you later!"

"Break a leg!" I called after him as he darted down the hallway toward the elevator. I watched him get in and the doors close, swallowing him out of sight, before pulling my phone out of my pocket. Three missed calls. I redialed and was immediately greeted by Paloma's voice.

"Is he gone?" she asked, a comical tone of urgency in her voice.

"What are you, my lover?" I laughed.

"Ew, no! Gross!" she replied, revolted. "I'll pick you up in a half hour, okay?"

"Okay, see you then," I agreed, hanging up. I sighed and ran a hand through my fringe as I placed my phone on the table next to a large box containing most of Dan's and my dishes. The apartment had become a maze of boxes over the past two weeks. Moving was definitely adding to the pressure of Dan's show opening this week, but I wasn't about to let that interfere with my opening night plans. I took the quickest shower of my life and had just gotten dressed when Paloma rang me to inform me that she was outside to pick me up.

"So, what's on the agenda?" she asked as closed her passenger-side door.

"Flowers—you have to help me find good ones," I said, "And I don't know, what else? Do I need something else? Chocolates?"

"Chocolates? Really?" Paloma asked, raising her eyebrows. "I don't think that's necessary."

"I just want it to be perfect you know?" I said, rubbing my hands nervously on my jeans,

"I don't think you'll have any trouble with that," she laughed, punching me in the arm.

"And I need a new shirt," I added.

"A shirt?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "I don't really have anything, y'know, that nice."

"A shirt though?" she suppressed a laugh, "Do you even own a suit?"

"No—I don't know—should I?" I stuttered.

"Well it may not be the West End, but it's still a professional musical right? You want to look smart."

"You're right," I nodded, "Oh God."

"It's real, innit?" she asked, smiling.

"Yeah," I grinned, "I'm really proud of him."