Streaks (Dan Howell x Phil Lester x Reader)

3.

Class? I'm gonna pretend to pay attention
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By the time 10:30 rolled around, I was done. How the hell was I supposed to make it through another five hours of this thing people classify as an 'educational building.' All school is teaching me is liars do exist, people will hurt your god damn feelings no matter how much you don't want them to and you shouldn't ever really trust people too much. Something tells me I haven't really learnt my lessons.

Here I sit, watching the clock tick by ever so slowly. I decided to try and alter the speed of time and actually make it look like I was trying to take notes but...was I really? Nope. Never have I ever taken notes in this class and I don't think that's ever going to change.

I felt a small shake come from my left pocket. As it was zipped up, I couldn't easily reach for my phone and take it out discreetly. I bet Phil has Math this period and that's just him being annoying. I redirected my attention back to my notebook doodles. I never knew what I was drawing, it was almost subconscious, mindless. I didn't mind. I glanced at the clock and it seemed to match my glare just with a mocking tinge. I only had twenty minutes left. It's amazing how time flies when you're...well not necessarily having fun. Maybe just distracted. Yeah, distracted. Another shake from my enclosed pocket pulled me off my train of thought. I swear to god, Phil. You're going to get a stern talking to after class.

A barely noticeable yet audible voice in the very back of my head continued to nag me. What if it wasn't Phil though, Y/N.

Who the actual hell could it be then?