I close my laptop and set it besides me. I stand and stretch before grabbing my cup off of the dresser beside my bed.
I walk down the hallway to the kitchen. Phil stands before me making a sandwich. He looked up at me with surprise, and jumped back a little.
"Dan, you scared me." He wore a plain, white t-shirt and pajama bottoms. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scared you," I reply with a slight chuckle.
I walk past him over to the sink. As I fill my glass with more water, I hear Phil let out a small shriek. I turn around to see him holding his hand. When I get a closer look, I see that he has cut his finger.
"Oh my god, Phil are you ok," I ask loudly. "Yeah, it just hurts a bit."
"Here, come with me."
I lead him to the bathroom; he sucks on his finger to stop the bleeding. I set him down on the seat of the toilet. I grab the first-aid kit. I put neosporin and a bandage on his wound.
I look up at him and he stares back at me. His eyes still show a tweak of pain. "Better?" I ask. "Yeah, it feels better now."
"Be careful next time." I say giggling. "That's doubtful." He retorts. "I just cut myself with a butter knife, so…"
Our gaze is broken when he looks down at his finger. "Thanks, Dan."
"No problem."
Phil leaves the bathroom and i prompt myself back onto the counter of the sink.
He's so cute. I think to myself. Wait, WHAT?
