A/N: I feel like I haven’t updated this in ages. Oops o__o 

Summary: Phil Lester, a shy, poetic hipster, is talented at a lot of things; social interaction not being one of them. But when his best friend Tom, a popular socialite, wins a competition for a Road Trip, Phil suddenly finds himself meeting a whole new group of friends, including the total stud Dan Howell; a flirt-machine in a leather jacket. But will Phil’s awkwardly interesting personality intrigue Dan, or completely freak him out?

LINK TO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

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I’m meeting them all today, Diary.
I’m scared.
And kinda tired, too, actually.
I wonder what they all look like? Tom’s struck a few more names off of the list, which is… relieving. I don’t know. I hope they’re into the same stuff as me. It would be kind of awkward trying to make conversation with a stranger more interested in what’s in the charts than they are in having a conversation with me! Though, I’d still put it past Tom to invite anyone who went anywhere near Miley Cyrus and Robin Thicke. I hope so, anyway.
My hand’s tired from writing now. I need to stop songwriting by hand at 3 in the morning. That explains the tiredness, too.

Phil shut his diary, giving his right hand a well-deserved break as he slotted the little decorative book into his drawer, disguised under boring looking papers and his songwriting folder. He was running late, anyway, with only about 10 minutes to spare until he had to meet Tom and Dexter at the wondrously original Starbucks. He didn’t even like Starbucks coffee that much. It was okay. He’d drink it. But there are probably certain drinks he’d enjoy buying a lot more while pretending to look sociable with his two friends. It didn’t even really taste of coffee, anyway. More of some kind of warm, gingerbread-y liquid in fancy mugs.

But, y’know, social priorities.

He grabbed his jacket, the khaki green ‘Topman’ one, called up a few generic ‘Goodbye’ greetings to his mother, and shut the door behind himself, immediately pushing in his headphones and drowning out the dauntingly busy outside world with the best of Vampire Weekend.

He turned the brightness right down on his phone, preserving what little percentage of battery he had left while he could. It was already showing the nearly-empty red battery icon at the top-right corner of his screen, whilst flashing “20% battery remaining” every 5 minutes he had it locked. In all honesty, it probably wasted more battery by unnecessarily reminding him of something he was perfectly aware of.

Once he’d reached the small Starbucks on the corner of the street, what they’d refer to as ‘their’ Starbucks, he smoothed down his fringe and self-consciously adjusted his beanie, wanting to look at least half socially acceptable.

“Phil! Come here!” Dexter called out from a larger table round the corner of the café. Phil quickly ordered whatever latte he saw first, grabbed the cardboard take-away cup and hurried over to where they were seated.

At first glance at them sitting around the table, he was suddenly caught off-guard by the sight of two more additions; of whom he had no idea who they were. They halted their conversations as soon as they saw him, their small talk about seeing the 1975 in concert slowly fading out into awkwardly unfamiliar smiles in his direction, which he politely returned.

“Phil, sit.” Tom ordered, pointing at the leather seat next to him. He sat, gingerly placing the coffee on the table and his Hype backpack down beside himself. “I want to introduce you to these two. Ruby, Esmée, meet Phil. Phil, meet Ruby, and Esmée.”

The girl sitting nearest him, who he assumed was Ruby, flicked a strand of bright red hair over her pale shoulder and gave him a little nod of recognition.

“Hey.” She greeted politely, although he could feel her emerald-coloured eyes staring into him judgingly.

“Hiya, Phil.” Esmée grinned from next to Ruby. She looked almost the opposite, her black hair waving way past her shoulders and her dark brown eyes looking slightly friendlier as Phil glanced into them, returning the greeting.

Well, at least I haven’t been brutally murdered yet, Phil thought to himself as he took a deep breath and stared expectantly at the door over on the other side of the café, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Although he wasn’t exactly awaiting it, in the sense that he particularly wanted to be surrounded by a crowd of people to a similar age to him, only all a whole lot more confident, cooler, and better looking than him. He already felt very out of place wedged opposite these two people, almost in disbelief that in a matter of hours he’d be speeding down the road with them, sharing the road trip bus for the weeks of summer vacation. He guessed they’d have to try and get along with him as much as he wanted to get along with them, and he was also living off the hope that maybe he’d learn a few social skills off of them, like how to hold a decent conversation without painfully awkward pauses, and trying to walk anywhere smoothly without either stubbing his toe or falling over his own feet.

“So what about you?” Ruby turned to Phil suddenly, trying to include him in the conversation, although he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts of how out of place he was right now, he’d been completely out of the loop for the past five minutes.

“What?” He jumped back into his conscious mind, feeling his face turning red as their eyes turned to him expectantly.

“Were you at Jake’s 18th…?” Esmée raised her slim, dark eyebrows at Phil.

“Oh, I- er…”

“Nah, Phil couldn’t make it. He had a gathering at his neighbour’s that he had to go to. Isn’t that right?” Tom saved his social suicide by tactfully stepping in, reaching under the table and giving his hand a quick, friendly squeeze of reassurance. Phil grinned, flooded with sudden relief about making such a lucky escape from yet another case of complete social suicide within the first 5 minutes of making an impression, which didn’t go too well anyway let alone along with the help of admitting he wasn’t even capable of going to any parties at all, not even his hypothetical neighbour’s gathering.

“Oh, right. Okay.” Esmée shot a quick glance at Tom, then at Phil. “Well, you should’ve been there. It was mental.”

“You can say that again.” Ruby widened her eyes with a memory. “Oh god, remember the wedding present?! And the vase that you-…” 
They continued reminiscing and discussing memories Phil had no involvement in, so he was left with not much else to do other than smile, nod, pretend to look surprised and let out a little false laughter every now and again.

“No wonder Jake never invited any of us back.” Tom chuckled, causing the two girls to giggle in agreement.

Before Phil could pretend to pay attention to anything else, the café door suddenly opened with a small jingle of the bell above the door frame, and a much larger crowd of people a similar age to him entered. His hands clammed up coldly as he noticed the sheer amount of people there were, and his predictions were almost completely accurate based on appearance and first impressions of them. They all looked like they could’ve participated in the trashing of Jake’s house, and the ruining of a seemingly very expensive wedding present that had been spoken of. What crazy party anecdotes did he have, though? He needed to think of at least something mildly exciting to impress this crowd surging into the tiny Starbucks they were sat in. But what was considered exciting for them? He knew the most exciting thing that had happened to him over the past week was getting a new set of picks for his guitar, but that wasn’t really something he could grip everyone’s attention over across the coffee table. He figured he’d try to make a lot more of a background role than get involved in any ‘party talk’. They’d hardly know he’s here.

The awkward silence hanging over them a matter of seconds ago was replaced by a dramatic difference of a flood of different voices, all holding different conversations with a number of several unfamiliar faces, and then, suddenly, Phil, completely flustered, in the midst of all of the sudden action that everyone else had considered completely normal just getting on with it without a second thought.

Well, maybe it would help if you knew a few people here. His mind spoke up, and he couldn’t argue against it. He knew this was wrong. He knew he should’ve stayed at home. This was precisely the type of situation he’d look back on in a couple of months and shudder with regret. He should’ve told Tom this was a mistake while he still could, but he knew it was far too late to do anything about it now; he had all his luggage packed and ready at home. Obviously.

“Someone’s the picture of joy and cheer today.” Tom smirked, plonking himself back down next to him and studying Phil’s expression. “What’s up? Come and introduce yourself.”

“Tom I-… I don’t think this is right,” he shook his head as Tom pointed his glance over to one of the most intimidating looking guys, surrounded by a cloud of even more intimidating girls.

“Don’t think what’s right?” Tom tilted his head to the side. “Come on, Phil, everyone barely even knows you. And you barely know them, either. At least try and make an effort.” He tugged at Phil’s wrist.

“I know, I know. It’s just…” he took a deep breath and dared to divert his eyes across the swarm of people. “I don’t fit in. They’re all about parties, and trashing houses, and getting drunk and-… and…”

Tom burst out laughing suddenly. “Phil?”

“What?” Phil replied, feeling himself blushing fiercely as he felt Tom laugh in his face. “That wasn’t meant to be so comedic.”

“Oh, Phil, we were only messing around. So what if you haven’t been to a few parties? There’s more to these people than whose wedding present they’ve trashed.” Tom tugged at his wrist again. “Come on. Just try.”

Phil let out a groan of reluctance, but let Tom pull him over. They darted through a maze of socialization until they’d reached the far corner of the table, with a small group of the same girls Phil had seen earlier who seemed to all be paying complete, undivided attention to whatever the intimidating guy was waffling on about.

“So then we figured the truck would be a bad idea, so we had to stick with my uncle’s van. But it still drove us there, fine. And oh my god, that night wa- alright, Tom? How are you?!” He suddenly diverted his attention as soon as he caught sight of Tom, who pulled him in for a quick hug. Phil hid behind his extroverted friend, trying to make himself seem as invisible as possible.

“I’m good, man. All set?” Tom said, sitting himself down on the leather sofa, and Phil felt obliged to copy him, keeping his eyes locked firmly to his near-dead phone, as if the digital world of Instagram could somehow devour him into the screen, out of this painfully uncomfortable situation he was currently in.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re all set too, aren’t you girls?” He smirked to the crowd who all urgently responded at once, as soon as he did so much as laid eyes on them. It was like watching Harry Styles try to teach a class of 15 year old ‘Directioners‘.

“Oh, yeah!”
“Can I sit next to you, Dan?” 
“I’m so excited for the…” 
“I’m going to wear this really nice dress for the campfire.”

Phil raised his eyebrows discreetly at the number of girls Dan had completely captivated. He had each and every giggly, long-haired beauty wrapped around his little finger. And when Phil stole a glance up to his face, he suddenly understood why.

He was extremely, extremely good looking, but very much in a waxwork, Ken-doll kind of way. He had sleek brown hair, perfectly straight and very craftily shaped in a side-fringe to flatter his best features. His large, brown eyes shone prominently in the golden glow of the lamp in the corner of Starbucks, reflecting off his absolutely flawless, tanned skin to define every crevice of his sculpted face. He looked undeniably beautiful. But in a way that made him seem like less of a human, and more like a young Greek God. 
The brown eyes flashed straight into Phil’s for a few seconds, sending uncomfortable shudders running through every nerve ending of his body.

“Yeah, the campfires are going to be good.” Dan nodded, glancing at Tom. “Don’t suppose you’ve found anyone to do the guitar-y business, have you?”

It’s called playing a guitar.

“I beg to differ.” Tom contradicted, nodding in Phil’s direction. “Phil, here, he’s a right little talented musician. Aren’t you?” He dug his elbow into Phil’s ribs, trying to get him to say something.

“Yeah, well, I’ll believe that when I see it.” Dan scoffed unkindly, sending giggles from all the other girls rippling through the crowd. Phil whipped his phone out as a nervous reflex, trying desperately hard to hide his burning blush although he really didn’t know who he was kidding anymore. He stared at Instagram, willing himself to be standing on a trap door that could somehow give way. Now.

“Well, you will. You’ll serenade us, won’t you, Phil?” Tom elbowed Phil harder, as if he were trying to physically poke a hole through him and pull words out of it.

“If you’re lucky.” Sudden sass slipped out of him.

Dan looked genuinely surprised, his perfectly plucked eyebrows raised at Phil, and all the girls suddenly turning his way to see what his next reaction would be, watching him like hawks in designer cardigans. Judging by his, and Tom’s surprise, it was plain to see that Tom had possibly been giving him a little description of Phil before they’d met; what he looked like, and his mannerisms – which he had obviously just completely contradicted.

“Well.” Dan cleared his throat. “I hope we will be lucky, then.”

It was almost as if Phil had caught him off guard.

“Yeah.” Tom added. “I hope so too. Phil’s brilliant at the guitar. Writes his own songs, and music, too.”

“Tom!” Phil hissed indignantly, feeling himself blush again. He certainly didn’t want doll-boy going through his songwriting book, let alone listening to him playing the guitar.

“Oh, really?” Dan seemed like he was taking a genuine interest now, although Phil was still very much convinced otherwise. “Like what?”

“It’s boring, really.” Phil mumbled, ducking his head. “You wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“I would.” Tom said, raising his eyebrows at him. “Are you going to play some of the stuff you’ve written?”

“No!” Phil refused, outraged at even so much as the thought. His songs were strictly private, and were never to be played outside of his bedroom or whenever he wasn’t home alone. If Dan, or any of the girls were to do so much as peek into his songbook, they’d probably stay outside a five mile radius of him, forever. 

“Oh, okay.” Dan said. “I guess our luck ran out.”

Phil glared at Tom, wishing he’d never brought up the songwriting thing. It was bad enough playing the guitar, but he didn’t want anyone else knowing about any songs he played other than stuff that absolutely was not written by him, lyrics or otherwise. He’d thought playing songs such as Sweet Home Alabama around a spitting campfire to these people was bad enough.

“What are you going to play, then?” Dan tilted his head, and Phil hated the way his eyes penetrated into his, making him feel queasy with nerves.

“Oh, I dunno.” Phil mumbled. “Whatever anyone wants, I guess.”

“Well, these lot hate the kinda music I’m into.” Dan smirked, a dimple emerging in the middle of his left cheek.

“I don’t!” One of the girls piped up, outraged that Dan had generalized her in such a vague category.

Dan glanced at her blankly, before turning back to Phil. “So I guess you probably would, too.”

Phil narrowed his eyes. Dan looked like the kind of guy into such obscure underground bands that even the “indiest” of “indie kids” would have no idea about.

“Try.” Phil shrugged, trying to act as casual as possible.

“Don’t suppose you like any of the stuff by ‘The Maine‘?” Dan asked doubtfully, taking Phil by complete surprise. Beneath his well-composed image of music taste, The Maine were way up in his top 3 favourite guilty pleasures. He was in a state of awe that this model-human would go anywhere near that kind of music.

Phil nodded bashfully, hiding his expression from Tom’s suspicious eyes.

“No! Seriously? I thought they would be way out of… your league,” he raised his eyebrows at Tom and Phil, before asking him more. “Favourite album?”

“Er, probably Pioneer. Although I really liked Black and White…” Phil replied, avoiding the vacant, shifting gaze from the girls between Dan and him.

“Yeah, I liked that one, too!” The same girl flicked her blonde waves in Phil’s face to try and edge up closer towards Dan. He stiffened as she tried to nudge her shoulder under his arm, obviously hoping he would put his arm around her.

“Mhm.” He glanced down at her, and back up at Phil. “Pioneer. Yeah. That’s definitely the best they’ve done, I think.”

Phil nodded in agreement, eyeing the girl up and down as she shot a little white grin towards Dan, her blue eyes sparkling prettily at him. He returned the grin, but still refrained from putting his arm around her. The other girls glared at her, as if she was completely hogging their slim chances of being in her position, nudged up next to Dan. In his opinion, it didn’t look like such a desirable position to be in, anyway, and he personally didn’t exactly understand their envy. But then again, he wasn’t a pretty, teenage female who craved his attention.

But at least he had a good music taste. Phil will give him that.

-

“So, you and Dan seemed to have hit it off.” Tom raised his eyebrows once they were standing around the pavement after their Starbucks gathering.

“Oh, leave it out.” Phil scoffed, screwing his face up. “We just have one common band we like. That doesn’t make us the ultimate soulmates of the year.”

“Well, I told you there’s more to these people then their parties. Who would’ve known old pin-up boy was into that kind of music?” Tom chuckled, rolling his eyes at him as they leaned on the café window.

Phil’s phone suddenly buzzed, and as he pulled it out of his pocket, what he thought was a possible text, was more realistically just a “3% remaining” warning. It was really beginning to struggle to even project a screen of the lowest brightness, anymore, let alone hold a decent phonecall.

“Oh, shit. I’m gonna get a headstart home to get my charger. I‘ll see you in about an hour, yeah? Back here?” Phil said to Tom as he nodded, before hitting the pavement in the direction of his house, trying to dial his mum’s number in the dangerously small amount of battery he was trying to survive on. As soon as he was about to hit ‘Call’, his phone completely cut off, and he was staring at a black screen with no response to the violent stabs of the Lock button on the top of his phone. It was completely dead, and although he knew no frustration could bring it back to life, he found it hard to resist throwing the stupid machine at the brick wall. He only charged it yesterday night, and he hadn’t exactly been doing anything major to run the battery out so dramatically. Fuck you, Apple.

“Oh, you piece of shit!” He settled for shouting at the inanimate object, earning a concerned stare from a woman pushing a pram down the opposite side of the pavement, who quickly proceeded to cross the road in order to avoid him.

“Want to borrow mine?” Phil suddenly heard a velvety voice pipe up from behind him. He jumped and swivelled round to find a godlike figure standing a few feet away from him, smirking at his near-terrified expression. Dan.

“Er- well, okay. If you’re sure.” Phil babbled, still in shock of his sudden appearance.

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t be the one offering,” Dan chuckled at his awkwardness, and Phil hoped the dark night sky could camouflage his blush somehow. Dan gracefully whipped out an iPhone 5S in the champagne colour, unlocking it with his fingerprint and handing it to him on the dial button. Phil was so terrified of dropping it that his hands began shaking with sheer concentration of not doing that, as well as the general nerves. His phone was still warm from his touch, and as Phil held it up to his ear, he could smell his cologne lingering faintly on it.

“Yes, hello? Who is this?”

“Mum, it’s me. Phil. I’m using… someone else’s phone. Mine‘s dead.”

“Oh, Phil.” He could hear the relief in her voice as soon as he had mentioned someone else who wasn’t Dexter or Tom. “Okay. Well, when are you coming back?”

“Like, now. I’ll be home in 10 minutes. See you later.”

He disconnected, scared of wasting too much of Dan’s credit on such a pointless phonecall.

“Here you go,” Phil handed the phone back, watching as he shoved it back into the pocket of his dark wash skinny jeans. “Thanks for letting me use it,” he shyly thanked him, terrified of any awkward silences they might inevitable fall into, so he made it look like he was at least trying to be in a hurry to get home.

“S’alright. I’d better get home, too.”

“Yeah…” he nodded, feeling the dreaded silence creep over us.

“So… I’ll see you in a few hours, I guess?” Dan shrugged, as if having these conversations and lending people his phone was the most normal and casual gesture he could give.

Well, that’s probably because it was. That’s what it was like for people with some kind of status of popularity. Although Dan was verging on the fine line between extreme popularity and small celebrity.

“Yeah, okay,” Phil glanced up to his eyes, which were already staring straight into his own, the bold, deep brown colour glittering in the soft, amber glow of the streetlight. “Bye.”

His eyes glittered again as his mouth crinkled into a crooked smile, his dimple making a re-appearance that had the ability to make hundreds of girls swoon. They stayed, stood in silence for a few more minutes, simply studying each other, before Dan gave him one last grin, and slowly turned the other way, heading the opposite direction as Phil found himself staring after him.

Phil realised it was the first time he’d ever been in a silence that wasn’t actually painfully awkward.

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