𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓+𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐒 ✭ 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍

ℱ♨Ի†⑂ Ṧ∊ṽℯη

a.n - happy binging to those who have waited! kisses!

Phil's body slammed down into a swivel chair spinning it in circles with his impact. He pressed his phone into his ear, jaw clenching as a simple, sweet as candy giggle came from the other end on the line. "Come over," he mouthed cutting in quietly into the phone. "It's a lonesome Friday afternoon and you're not going to waste it with me?"

Dan smirked looking up at his crystal white ceiling, head laid delicately on his pillow. "And do what Lester, screw you again?"

"Of course not—" he looked down at his desk and let his finger doodle circles into the woodwork. "My mom has a dress."

Dan instantly sat up at the sound a huge gigantic smile on his face. "Already?!" he squeaked.

"And my tux, I'm telling you, my mom, is a god at apparel...and a psycho she stayed up till like three in the morning this entire week," he said putting a hand on his head.

"Have you seen them?"

Phil shook his head as if his body language could be seen. "No, she wants us to see them the night off, but still you have to come over tonight." He tugged on the tuffs of his hair. "Our maids are cooking Smoked Salmon for dinner and mom hates giving false instructions to add an extra plate for a guest."

Dan smiled, eyes-rolling. "You act like some salmon is going to seal the deal for me to see my boyfriend on a weekend—" Dan took in a tough, icy breath through his throat at the mention of boyfriend.

Phil's heart swirled like coffee's creamer creating heart-shaped designs and blossoming flowers in spring. He felt as though Dan pushed a barrel of a handgun to his chest and shot through him with bullets made from rose petals.

"Boyfriend?" Phil let the word roll off his tongue in a flirty sense.

"Should've thought before I—"

"No!" Phil stammered quickly nearly dropping his device. "Hell no, no I like it," he breathed.

Dan perked up a little, cheeks glowing. "Me too..." he sighed standing up from his bed placing a hand on his hip. "Seven O'clock?"

Phil jumped up from his chair leaning over to check his time on his T.V. screen staring at the number displayed. 3:03, he read. "Perfect!" he shouted. "Text me when you get here?"

Dan halfway nodded. "Totes."