We're Not Friends | phan

3: The Proposition

Daniel Howell

He and Phil Lester were sitting smack dab in the middle of a crowded cafeteria.

Dan was very aware of all the eyes that were on them. He could feel the force of the stares.

Each one was a pinprick of heat burning through his clothes.

If someone told him three hours ago that he'd be sitting alone at the same table as Phil Lester, in the cafeteria that he and his friends studiously avoided because it was filled with lowerclassmen, he probably would've laughed until his throat was sore.

And yet, here he was.

Dan had reluctantly accompanied Phil to the cafeteria, where he claimed a table by the exit to wait alone (and nearly got up and left at least twice) while Phil went through the lunch line, returning with a tray of spaghetti, broccoli, and two little Oreos as dessert. He set his backpack - a dainty blue bag that looked like it could barely fit one book - on the seat next to him. 

Dan wasn't about to wait until he finished his entire meal.

"All right. It's been bloody ages. What's your proposition?" Dan demanded. 

"Look. We both have things we want," Phil said, lowering his voice and leaning closer, as if to prevent anyone from eavesdropping. "I know you need to pass your English class. Maybe we could help each other out."

"How?" Dan asked. He wanted to lean away from Phil, just to show everyone watching that they weren't really talking. He wasn't really associating with some weird, emo, gay nobody. But he couldn't without forcing Phil to speak louder over the din of the cafeteria.

"I can tutor you. Not to sound conceited, but I'm great at English. You have Mrs. Benedict, right?"

Dan gave a sharp nod.

"Mrs. Benedict loves me. And you're a year below me. I'm prepping for English Lit in my A levels, meaning I can help with your essays and tutor you for your own A levels."

"What do you need from me?" Dan asked. Because he had to admit, Phil's plan so far might work. He knew Phil was a nerd – he was always hanging out with all the geeks and theater kids. If he could get Phil to help him with his homework, maybe even write some of it... well, Dan just might pass. His future in football wouldn't come crumbling down around him.

Phil looked suddenly uncertain, glancing down at his hands, wrapping them together and then forcing them apart in his lap. A nervous habit, Dan thought.

"Well... I need to get onto the football team," Phil said all in one breath.

Dan stared at him. A second passed by. Five seconds. The smell of the spaghetti on Phil's tray started making Dan nauseous.

"You... you're not serious."

"It's a long story."

"You want to play football?"

"I don't want to. It's complicated."

"How the hell am I supposed to get you on the team? I'm not the quarterback. I can't decide who gets booted and who stays."

"You can't even talk to your coach or whatever? It doesn't have to be a good part, I just need to be on the team."

"A good part? You mean a good position?"

"Either way," Phil waved him away.

"Do you even know anything about football?"

"Well, that's the point!" Phil leaned even closer, his hands wound tightly together again. "You can teach me all that. Coach me, or whatever it takes to join. And I can help you with English."

Dan stared at him for another long minute.

Surely, he wasn't serious. It was a ridiculous request and someone as supposedly smart as him would damn well know that. Dan and the teammates that played last year were already training for the upcoming season, and their recruitment period began next month. Barely 4 weeks from now. 

"Getting you on the football team is way harder than helping me with English," Dan pointed out. "Basically impossible. Have you ever played any sports? Have you ever trained?"

Phil hesitated. And Dan knew the answer.

"You're fucking joking."

"Look, this is the only way you're going to pass English. I heard you talking in class, okay? You're gonna be dropped from the team if you can't get your grade up. And no one else is gonna be able to tutor you like I am, because they won't have our deal. All right?" His startlingly blue eyes were wide, almost pleading.

"And what happens if I try to help you and you still don't make it onto the team, huh?" Dan leaned back, his arms crossed across his chest. He knew from experience when to press his luck, and at this moment, he had the high ground. "You're just going to go running to the headmaster and tell her all about our deal?"

"If you actually train me, but I don't make the cut, then that's on me. I won't tell," Phil said. "I promise."

His tone was absolute. His expression was grim. While Dan would've scoffed at the flimsy idea of a promise if it was anyone else... for some reason, he didn't doubt Phil. He knew the kid meant what he said.

Slowly, Dan extended his hand across the table. He didn't have to reach far. He hadn't realized how close together they were leaning. "Fine. Deal?"

Phil watched his hand like he was a fucking alien or something, as if he was incredulous that any of this was even happening. And just as slowly, just as hesitantly, Phil reached out, his hand curling around Dan's.

His hand was rougher than Dan expected. Freezing cold, and calloused. "Deal."

They shook once, and Dan drew his hand back quickly.

He was aware of all the eyes in the room again. The friends he usually ate with were probably wondering where the hell he was. He and Phil must've been sitting there talking for at least twenty minutes, since most of the cafeteria was now empty. He shouldn't have agreed to hold their weird meeting here. 

Feeling abruptly overwhelmed, Dan shot up, shoving his backpack over his shoulder. "Okay, cool. Just, uh, meet me after practice in the parking lot. We'll figure everything out then."

"Practice?" Phil asked. Looking down at Phil, for the first time, he seemed almost vulnerable. Scared. How Dan had expected him to be.

"Football practice," Dan said. He was so desperate to leave that he wasn't even sarcastic. "It ends at 6. Meet you then."

"Er – okay," Phil said.

Without another word, Dan spun on his heel. He didn't meet anyone's eyes as he hurried out of the cafeteria. No, all he could picture was one pair of eyes. A pair as blue as the clear sky on a hot summer day.

No matter what he did, he couldn't get those eyes out of his mind.