Dan Howell
"You think you could drop me to uni?" I ask the guy, who's name is Joseph or James I think. His hair is messed up and he is squinting as he gets off the bed and follows my actions. I pull my jeans up my legs, and sit on the edge of the bed to wear my boots.
"Yeah, sure." He wasn't that great. He was extremely shy and resistant. I don't think he has ever hooked up before. Maybe he got out of a relationship or something. On the side note my mind was constantly going towards Phil. I don't know why, there was something intriguing about him that just drew me in. He was a great guy when we were friends but I can't really recall, specially now when I am hungover as hell.
The guy doesn't offer me any advil or anything so I figure I will just buy some off campus when he drops me.
After twenty minutes, we are pulling in front of the campus and into the parking. I usually just get out of the car and not really converse with the person but he stops me in my tracks.
"Do you think you want to do it again sometime?" His cheeks are extremely pink and I feel sort of bad saying that I don't. I hate this. I like when people are not emotionally attached and don't care if they have a new person everyday. That is my kind of thing.
"We'll see." I offer him a half smile, dismissing him politely and hurry to my first class. Art.
I am five minutes late when I reach the class and ask for permission to enter. I look around the room and neither Jim nor Preston have showed up. What dicks. The only person I can remotely handle here is Phil and his cheeks are already tinted a light pink. I think he feels uncomfortable about what happened yesterday but I could tell he wanted it. If PJ wouldn't have interrupted us, last night could've gone differently.
"Hey," I greet him and see him visibly getting uncomfortable, as I place my easel next to his. He is drawing some sort of spacey thing I think, and it looks pretty good so far. I look at mine and it is just a plain fruit bowl with melons and apples. Yeah, I am not very good at art.
"Hi," He replies, looking at me for a brief moment and giving me a small smile. I return it, and reach for my brushes. From the corner of my eye, I can feel him staring at me. He is wearing a bright blue sweatshirt today, with what looks like a pug printed on the front. His eyes are coated with a thin ring of dark circles, maybe he didn't sleep last night.
I wouldn't blame him.
My headache magnifies with every stroke of my brush against the rough canvas and every murmur that resonates through the class. I am beyond irritated. This is the reason why I don't spend the night with the person I am hooking up with. I can't take a shower, I can't have advil, I can't have breakfast. It is just plain hell.
"You look like you're going to be sick," Phil says to me in a sweet voice. I look at him, and he is intently staring at me.
"No I am fine, I think I have a headache," I rub my temples and he nods, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.
"I have some advil and paracetamol in my locker, if you want?" He offers. Why is he so concerned? I don't really deserve that much kindness but of course I am a selfish bastard and nod.
"Thank you,"
--
Phil is sunshine I love him
ALSO 150 READS?? IS THIS REAL LIFE
