Lists | Phan

One: The First Step

Oh God, where to start.

Okay, maybe an apparel store's websites?

But what style would even look good on me? Why are there so many styles? I'm so confused, fuck...

Phil let his head tip backwards and stared at the ceiling, a whirlwind of thoughts running through his mind.

Then all of a sudden an idea clicked and a grin spread across Phil's face.

Go to the shopping mall just outside of town, where the chances of people knowing him are slim, and practice some of the skills he'd learnt on unwitting shop staff.

Just thinking about social interaction made Phil's palms sweat a little bit. It was one thing studying it, but then actually putting it into practice was a different matter entirely. But it had to be done. No wars were fought and won without practical training.

Phil made up his mind.

~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later, Phil found himself on the train, incredibly grating pop music channelled into his ears through cheap plastic earphones.  His eyes darted around the train carriage, taking in the surroundings and hungrily watching the conversing people around him. Body language; the way the guy on the other side of the carriage leans forward in interest to what another boy is saying. Smiling with his eyes, his stance open and inviting.

Compare that with the grumpy looking black-haired girl standing with her back to the doors, head down, and arms folded. She clearly wanted to be left alone. Phil scribbled everything down in his notebook.

The guy on the opposite seat brushes his hand lightly over the pretty brunette girl next to him's leg. She squirms a little, an embarrassed pink lightening up her cheeks.

Do people really not realise they're doing these things? Phil pondered to himself. Now I've studied this kind of stuff, I'm seeing it everywhere.

The automated voice announced that they had arrived at the mall, so Phil stowed his notebook in his satchel, stood up and made his way over to the doors. They opened with an unhealthy groan and the crowd of rushed passengers pushed out onto the platform – Phil getting washed along with it.

Oh?

Phil noticed a petite blue-haired girl get caught in the mass of people and trip over, spilling the contents of her bag onto the platform. She looked so pathetic, it was almost endearing.

Now's a good chance, Phil thought to himself. He took a deep breath and wiped his all-of-a-sudden sweaty palms on his jeans. Phil weaved in and out of the bustling people (They're like cattle. Disgusting.) and bent down to help her.

Speak. Soft voice.

"Are you okay? Let me help you."

The girl started and looked up, relief clear in her bright brown eyes. Passengers moved around them, not sparing a second glance for the two teenagers on the ground.

"Thank you so much, I'm sorry to trouble you." She squeaked, a little out of breath.

Smile.

Phil smiled.

"Don't worry about it."

Phil rescued a few scattered notebooks and a stick of lip balm from being trampled by the surrounding people. His eyes quickly danced over the cover of one of the notebooks. He recognised the design...

An album cover! One of the bands he'd listened to today.

Jackpot.

Make eye contact.