Immortals

Prolouge

Selena:

     I'm in the process of getting ready, unable to decide on what to wear, when my phone rings. It's Phil Lester, which is why I'm getting ready in the first place. We're going out for drinks at a new pub near my flat, since I've been wanting to go since it opened. I answer my phone, putting it on speaker so I can continue to flip through my closet. "Hey Selena," he says, his voice warm and light, causing a stupid smile to creep onto my face, "I'm going to be there in ten minutes and I'm just calling to let you know," he continues. Oh, hell, I think. I'm standing in the middle of my bedroom, still in my underwear. At least my hair and makeup is done. "I should be ready by the time you get here, don't worry," I say, reaching for a dress. I toss it onto the bed before moving to the dresser to dig around for a pair of leggings. I think Phil knows that I'm not dressed yet, and he laughs, a sound that makes me smile again, a sound that would make nearly anyone feel better. "See you soon, beautiful," he says, then hangs up. I can feel myself blushing like an idiot as I struggle to put on the leggings without falling. The dress is red and black striped, and knee-length. Lola, my best friend, gave it to me for my birthday. 

     The moment I've adjusted the straps, the doorbell rings. That must be Phil, I think, padding down the hallway to answer the door. My heartbeat speeds up and I know my pupils must have dilate when I open the door, because there he is. I slip on some flats, trying not to fall flat on my face in front of him. He smiles at me once I straighten up, and bloody hell he's attractive. I grab my purse, slipping my phone inside, and join him outside, closing and locking my door behind me. Phil reaches for my free hand, which makes my heart skip a beat, which feels horrible and wonderful at the same time. I take his hand and smile back, and I think that maybe he does like me back. 

    We walk down the stairs and outside, towards the nearest pub. It's not far at all, so we don't speak much on the way over there. I just turned twenty-one last month, so I feel better about drinking, since I moved to England from America when I was nineteen. I'd been of legal drinking age since before I got here, but it felt so strange to be able to do it that I always felt a little weird. The new little pub was actually quite full when we walked in, and out of nervous habit I pressed myself up against Phil. I don't think he minded, and I could have been imagining it, but I think he may have even pulled me closer. 

     This pub is different, unlike any other I've seen before. It's almost got a medevial air to it, and for some reason the air seems like it's smoky even though there aren't any smokers and there's signs posted saying "no smoking." I'm in love with the place instantly, and I think Phil can tell, because I can sense him smiling and I can feel him squeezing my hand. I look around, taking everything in. It's cool inside, the walls look like they're made out of stone, like we could be in a castle. Even though the place is packed, there aren't many people at the bar. We walk up together, but Phil orders for me to, for which I'm grateful. We don't have to wait long, and as we sit and drink, we just make small talk and joke around. As soon as I took the first sip of the drink, though, I knew something was wrong. I've drank enough beer in the past month that I knew what it tasted like, and this tasted strange. I chalked it up to being my imagination, ignoring the gut feeling that hadn't ever been wrong before. 

     We left when we'd decided that niether of us should have any more alcohol, and as we do, I spot the bathrooms. "Hey, Phil, I'm going to go stop by the bathroom really quick," I mumble. He nods, staying in his seat. I rush over, and as I'm washing my hands, I hear my phone ring. I check the caller ID first, and see that it's Lola. I answer immediately. 

Lola: 

"Hey, Sel, would you like to have dinner with me and Dan tonight? I'm cooking," I say.