Phil and I were on my couch eating cereal when he spoke up. "Wait, we both lost. So what now?" I shrugged. "How about we do both. Dinner and then clubbing?"

"Deal."

I suddenly remembered Jamie, wondering if he had the weed yet. I ignored it and Phil left later.

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. I thought and thought for hours, unmoving and looking dead almost- my hands draped over the sides of the bed and my feet sprawled out.

There's a possibility Phil could turn my emotions back on. I don't like him and he doesn't like me, so I shouldn't be worried, but what if that changes? If I fall for him and my emotions come back, what if he does the same as the last boy who left me: PJ? Leaves me for something better? I can't have that happen. I'll be in pain all over again and lash out.

Hell, as soon as I turned off my emotions all I was was aggressive. I got in fights, I cursed at people, so why wasn't I doing that now? How was Phil changing me when I hadn't even known him for a week? He was just a flirtatious guy that needed someone to hang out with. But I don't know anything about him, and he doesn't know anything about me. So why, out of seven billion people, did he choose me?

I sighed and got up, trying to calm down. Digging through my closet, I spotted a picture of PJ and I. My grip was tight on the photograph, knuckles turning white.

Then I let out a scream as I chucked it at the white wall in front of me, watching the glass smash into pieces and tumble to the carpet. I then stomped over and swiped all of my paperwork and supplies off my desk.

Then I looked up and found my reflection. And I hated it. I hated myself. So I slammed my fist against the material, hissing as I felt shards of glass pierce through my fist.

I groaned as I looked at my hand, examining the small glass pieces. Quickly, I put my hand in the sink and plucked out the glass pieces, not bothering to bandage it up.

Hours later, after plenty of self-wallowing, I heard my front door open. I relaxed when I saw it was Phil. But this time, in a tuxedo. "Wow." I took in his appearance. His hair was neatly combed and shit, did he look good in a suit.

"Hi," he forced a lopsided grin, having one arm behind his back, obviously hiding something.

"Thanks for knocking," I spoke sarcastically. He stuck his tongue out to the side.

"Don't have to. Ready?"

I gestured to my t-shirt and pajama pants. "Do I look ready to you?" Then he pulled out a big shoe box behind him. "What's that?" I asked.

"Open it up, you numpty." He handed the box to me and I set it on the counter, opening it up. It was a tuxedo, neatly folded and cleaned. I looked at him, wide eyed. "I bought it."

"W-why?"

"I don't know. I mean it is almost Christmas. Consider it your present."

I shut the box and handed it to him. "I can't, that must've been really expensive."

"Dan. Really, it's fine. Go get dressed, sweetheart."

Again with the nicknames?

I let out a sigh of defeat as I took the box back, going into the bathroom and changing into the tuxedo. I checked myself out in the mirror, brushing my curls from my face and making sure the tie was correct.

Phil turned to the sound of the door, the cocky smirk on his face wiping away in a milisecond. I watched him gulp, suddenly feeling self conscious. "W-what? Do I look bad? I can give it back and you can return it-"

"No!" He shouted. I blinked. "N-no, I mean, you can if you want if you aren't comfortable. You look good though," he licked his lips. "Really good."

I blushed. "Thanks. You aren't so bad yourself. Now, uhm, shall we?"

He smiled and nodded, the two of us walking out and driving to dinner. Once inside I recognized the place, remembering it's one of the most expensive restaurants in New York City.

"Phil, are you sure this isn't too much? Honestly I'm fine with a hamburger or a café."

"Dan, just shut up and let me treat you like the prince you are."

My lips parted slightly at his response.

The whole dinner we talked, laughing and asking questions about each other. Turns out we had a lot in common. We ordered cake for dessert and jokingly fed each other, laughing at one another when I smeared some icing on Phil's face. He copied me and I giggled, wiping it off our faces. He paid the bill and drove back to his house to get ready.

I handed him the crop top I bought him, and suddenly he handed me on too. "Since we both lost the bet, it's only fair we both wear crop tops. Besides, your tummy is cute."

I groaned. "There is no way in hell I'm wearing a crop top to a gay club."

—

"I cannot believe I'm wearing a crop top at a gay club," I muttered, holding my arms over my tummy. Mine was black and Phil's was a light blue which enhanced his eye color.

"Oh shut up. The guys probably like it anyway," he replied, laughing a little and patting my stomach. I swatted his arm away and he chuckled. "Want a drink?"

I nodded. "If I'm gonna make it through tonight, I'll need you to make that plural."

We had a few shots and a few margaritas, and somehow we ended up grinding against each other. Bodies swayed around us, people kissing, laughing or drinking. The bass was so loud that the walls and cups shook. I stepped my feet to the beat, running my hands through my hair as I slid my back against Phil's front.

I ground upwards and spun, turning to face him and pushing our clothed crotches together. I noticed his breath hitch and smirked, swaying my body to the music. I then laced my arms around his neck, one of my hands tangled in his sweaty hair and the other clutching the back of his shirt.

His hands stay on my lower back and I reached quickly to push his hands down, sending him a message to touch lower. He understood, placing his hands on my ass, groping and occasionally squeezing.

We locked eyes and we were panting and leaning in. Our mouths were open, my arms clinging to the collar of his shirt.

Suddenly there was shouting at the back of the club, and the music stopped. Phil and I pulled away to figure out what was going on, only to see two men were fighting over one. One man had lilac hair and the other had caramel brown, fighting over another with curly brown hair.

"Tyler, stop!" The boy that was being fought over screamed.

The one with lilac hair, Tyler, looked up at him for a second, almost looking sorry. But that stopped when he turned back to the man below him, punching him wildly. I had to do something. I began moving forward when Phil grabbed my arm.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?" Phil cried. "This doesn't involve you." I pulled my arm from his grasp and hurried over, grabbing Tyler and trying to pull him off.

"You took everything from me, Connor! Everything!" Tyler screamed at the man below him.

"Tyler, please!" The brown-haired boy begged, tears streaming down his face now. I managed to yank Tyler off and hold him back. He spun and looked at me, anger etched on his bloody face. The brown-haired boy kneeled over Connor, petting his face and crying. He was on the phone with someone, most likely for an ambulance.

"Who are you? Don't touch me!" Tyler bellowed, pushing me backwards. "This is about me and my personal life."

"Exactly, so stop making it everybody else's problem and settle this somewhere else." I told him.

He whipped his head around to face me and swung, but I caught his hand. Phil began to run over but I shot him a look, hoping he'd stay back. He did, worry etched on his face as he chewed on his lip. "What the fuck did you just say to me?" Tyler spat.

The brown-haired boy got in between us, pushing Tyler back gently. "I'm Troye, by the way. He turned his feelings off last night. Tyler's my ex and Connor's my boyfriend- Tyler's really possessive and jealous, it's not his fault!"

I nodded at Troye, looking back at Tyler.

"Look, you don't know what you're doing-" he cut me off when he shoved me forcefully, and I lost balance before crashing into a table. I groaned in pain, holding my head. Phil got up and hurried over to me, looking down at me.

"Are you okay?" He questioned, holding my face.

I pushed his hands off. "I'm fine- Phil watch out!"

But it was too late, Tyler shoved him Phil into the floor, kicking him away before coming onto me. It was nothing too painful that he could've experienced, but nobody hurt Phil. Nobody.

I gritted my teeth and threw my fist at Tyler's face, hitting him in the cheek. It became a fight with just fists, and I tried blocking my face, tired of causing such a scene.

Phil began screaming and Troye tried to pull Tyler off, but he was too strong. Body guards were trying to get through to help me but the crowd was too tight.

I started seeing stars with every hit, struggling to keep my eyes open.

Without warning, he got up, and I thought he was done until he forced me to get on my knees. I let out a breath, gasping in pain when his foot connected with my crotch. I bowed my head, groaning. I looked down, watching the crimson drip from my wounds and onto the floor.

"Tyler!" Troye screeched. "Leave him alone!"

"Dan!" Phil cried, but I didn't have enough time to react, because a beer bottle was smashed on my head, and all I could feel was stinging as I fell backwards.

The last thing I heard was shouting, sirens joining the chaotic noise. Someone had caught me when I collapsed.

I blacked out.