The Exchange Student ➵ phan

Chapter 4

I stumble down the steps towards the kitchen, feet clumsily criss crossing. My curly hair keeps flopping in front of my eyes but I'm too lazy to even move the dark strands."Morning Daniel, sleep well?" Mrs. Lester asks from the kitchen, setting a plate of pancakes unto the island.

"Yeah Daniel, sleep well?" Phil asks in a snide tone, causing me roll my eyes. He barges past me on the steps and grabs a pancake from the plate. He instantly starts towards the door.

"Wait, Phil, where do you think you're going?" Mrs. Lester calls. Forcing Phil to freeze in front of the door. He sighs warily and turns around with an unenthusiastic expression.

"To Nate's, duh," he scoffs, already pissed by the pause in an obvious daily schedule. An offended look flashes over Mrs. Lester's face. For a fleeting moment I consider punching Phil square in the jaw for being such a jerk towards someone that tries hard as his mother. Instead I push the thought to the back of my head to reminisce about later.

"Well, I was just wondering if you'd like too... show Dan around the house today." Mrs. Lester mumbles quickly, hands running over the counter to scrap an invisible stain away. I tense, gaze snapping to Phil and nervously running a hand through my curly hair. What am I thinking? There's no way he'll agree to showing me around. He already hates me for Petes sake! Relaxing fully I walk into the kitchen and go scouting for pancakes.

"It's not a big deal Mrs. Lester, I'll just explore by myself for a while." I assure her, grabbing a plate of pancakes. We're all pretending the awkward silence isn't there. Yet it's tough enough to cut with a razor sharp cleaver. My eyes catch Phil's. I instantly shoot my gaze to the floor, his gaze as condescending as ever.

"Oh, well I heard you guys up last night and figured you're getting along nicely." Mrs. Lester's voice is soft and my heart melts for her, how in all of holy hell is she related to Phillip fucking Lester? I smile half heartedly, turning to Phil that has yet to move. She got the complete opposite idea last night.

"Phil could give me a little tour, I haven't been outside yet." My reasoning causes Mrs. Lester to spin around with the brightest smile I've ever seen. She rushes over to me and pulls me into a bone crushing hug.

"Thank you thank you thank you." She mumbles into the side of my head, curly hair falling into my face and tickling my nose. I pat her back to signal I'm finished with the hug. She squeezes me tightly once before letting go and turning towards Phil, who's busy glaring us down with daggers in his eyes.

"Don't you I think I should be the one agreeing?" He snaps, grabbing a set of sunglasses from his leather jacket's pocket. Phil slips them over his eyes, turning back to the door and swinging it open. My happy feeling drops at Phil's outburst, his mother just wants us to ask civil, or at least to pretend for a while.

"Phil, would you like to give me a tour of the house?" I ask through gritted teeth, clenching my fist by my side. Everything about him turns me so damn hostile. Phil spins to face me at the sudden change in tone, raising an eyebrow. I wish I could see what his eyes gave away but the glasses set up a barrier to my Sherlock skills.

"Fine," Phil answers, shutting the door with a crash that may or may not have been intentional. I swear Mrs. Lester lets out a sigh of relief. She smiles at us both. Grabbing her plate and walking across the kitchen and living room towards a another hallway.

"I'll be in my study, you two have fun. And thank you Phil, I love you." Mrs. Lester states before disappearing down the hall. The moments she's gone the mood of the room changes to awkward in a spilt second.

I smile awkwardly at Phil and he smirks in response. Walking from the door and leaning against the island across from me. I jump up on the counter to eat, setting the plate in my lap and drowning the pancakes in syrup.

It's like everything Phil and I do the other is aware of. The smallest cough sets us on edge and a simple smile is enough to make us both want to draw conversation from the other. Yet we can't think of a word to say to each other. It's not like I want to speak to Phil, ever, but the feeling it would smooth things out is progressively becoming more and more appealing.

"Where are you from again?" Phil asks, folding his little pancake into fourths and biting the single triangle. I raise an eyebrow in his direction. How can you just not know where somebody is from? Especially when they're going to spend a year living with you? This must be an attempt at breaking the ice, a shitty attempt but at least he's trying. Something I was contemplating even taking a shot at.

"San Fransisco," I answer, cutting my pancakes into little pieces. I stab them all together to the top of my fork and stuff them into my mouth before they can slip off. Phil nods in response, staring at the table like he's trying to memorize each and every piece of granite. Looking off towards the living room I feel my eyes snapping shut every once in a while. Waves of sleep smash into my body with each waking moment, the jet lag has refused to wear off. Even after sleeping on and off for 16 conspicuous hours. My back slumps into the cabinets, creating indents on the skin.

"Dan!" Phil slams his hand on the table, jarring me awake. In surprise I jump, hitting my back hard against the cabinet and sliding forward. With a loud crash I tumble to the floor, my body cracking on the tiles."Oh my god, D-Dan are you okay." Phil breaks into explosive laughter, leaning over my face with no sympathy in his expression. Jerk.

"Fine," I wheeze, my chest rising only halfway before painfully shooting back down. Pain is spreading through my body. My head burns where it connected with the tile floor. Phil only laughs, not bothering to help me up or even have the grace to ask. For a while I just lay on the floor, fighting back tears of pain whilst Phil barks in laughter.

It takes a few tries for me to fully sit, leaning back on my hands."Shut up you jerk bag." I snap, angered by Phil's incompetence. He shuts his mouth, eyes flashing in anger. We glare at each other for a full minute before I'm forced to look in the other direction. He just has that 'I'm going to hit you for breathing' look implanted into his eyes.

"Do you want a tour or not?" Phil snaps, temper breaking down with each moment. I try to not shudder, just nodding and averting my gaze to under the island. A few dust bunnies are covering the ground but other than that the floors clean. Mrs. Lester must have some major OCD problems.

"Sure," I mumble, grabbing the edge of the counter and pulling myself up. Phil says nothing, walking over to the living room and beginning up the tour. He's so hot and cold some times. One moment he can be thinking up ways to speak to me and the next he's this cold, distant ass of a person who won't even look at me without groaning.

"This is the living room, Dave and Lyda watch tv in here. Best to avoid this room if you can they will instantly draw you into conversation. The kitchens over there, as you can see." Phil rattles off with a bored expression and continues the tour like that. Halfway through he pulls out his phone, scrolling through notifications and text messages.

Phil doesn't even have to look as he swings open the back doors, opening them to a porch. The moment I am faced with the garden my heart stops. Little stones pave the way to a medium sized pond, bright summer flowers are thriving in the heat and smooth cut grass covers the entire yard. An old double set swing hangs from a large magnolia overlooking the pond.

"Holy shit who gardens this?" I muse, mesmerized by everything around me. My hand runs over a vibrant orange petal to my left. It feels like silk and smells fresh. Phil refuses to look up, just continues texting somebody on his phone.

"Dad." He states. He must be used to the garden area by now. Yet I don't think I ever could be, everything just looks so inviting and comforting. Its like somebody modeled it out of a rehabilitation garden magazine.

"Well tell him he is amazing in his work," I almost exclaim, walking slowly down the steps, Phil doesn't follow me, just texting away. I sit on the comfortable swing and look over the pond. The whole world seems so much better here, the world's frozen in place just for me.

Slouching back I look over to Phil to ask him more questions about the park but he's already gone.