That Summer

Hours later, Paul was sore and hot. Initially, he'd fallen asleep only five minutes after Evangeline had but he'd gotten a full night of sleep the day before and couldn't make himself nap for any longer. He was sweating under the blankets in the July heat and his body hurt from being awake in the same position for a long period of time, but he didn't want to wake Evangeline. She was warm now, pink barely appearing on her lips, and she'd stopped shivering. Paul chanced a position change and moved a bit into a more comfortable arrangement, happy when he found that Evangeline simply snuggled back into him in her sleep.

Part of Paul was worried. He knew when Evangeline woke up, she'd go back to the bitch she'd always been; thinking she was too good for him or any one else in the world for that matter. Thinking she was perfect and that the sun shined out of her ass when she wasn't shitting rose petals.

But then, another part of Paul knew something big had just happened. When he'd found her in the tub, he knew right away that this poor shadow of a girl was broken. She was hurt and lost and confused, and she needed to be saved. Evangeline was either very near or had just hit rock bottom, Paul wasn't sure which yet.

He so wanted this to be a great turning point, for Evangeline to know she needed help, desperately, and for her to want to seek it. But he knew she was stubborn and hard headed, and Paul was terrified that she wouldn't change at all.

But Paul was so comfortable, with Evangeline's small body cuddled into his chest, that he didn't speak, he didn't question. For the moment, he didn't care if Evangeline was going to wake up and hate him again. He only sighed into her hair and relaxed.

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When Bryan got home he was confused.

Evangeline's car was parked in front of the house when he knew her classes didn't end until five minutes ago, so she shouldn't feasibly be home for another five to ten. And furthermore, her car was always in the driveway, not in front of the house.

Bryan shook his head and began to sink even lower into confusion when he saw Paul's car in the driveway, which was extremely odd seeing as Paul had never returned with Bryan's cell phone, and wasn't answering his own.

When he entered the kitchen, he found it completely empty. He'd cleaned up the mess from that morning the second Evangeline had gone upstairs.

"Evangeline?" he called out. "Paul?"

Bryan waited a few seconds and called again, but he didn't hear any movement or attempt at a reply so he shrugged and turned toward the home phone. He dialed in Paul's cell phone number again, in hopes that his friend would answer, but was much more surprised at what actually happened.

The chorus to a Blink-182 song erupted from the kitchen table and Bryan swerved to see Paul's phone lighting up and vibrating along with the song. His faced twisted into even more confusion and the scenarios were running through his head at rapid speed. He didn't even want to think about half of them.

Bryan entered the living room and was about to head up the stairs to check in Evangeline's room when the doorbell rang. He sighed and made his way to the front of the house and opened the door.

On his front stoop stood a girl Evangeline's age with long, wavy brown hair and large chocolate irises. Her brows curved over her eyes softly and her nose was a small button over full, pouty lips that almost didn't suit her heart shaped face. She had a tall, thin build with long legs, definitely a dancer's body. She was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a tee shirt, a bag that looked oddly familiar to Bryan in her hand.

"Uhm, hi," the girl murmured once she took in the boy before her.

"Hey," Bryan replied slowly. "Can I help you?"

"Does Evangeline Donahue live here?"

"Yeah, she's my sister," he confirmed.

"Well she left her bag at dance today. I thought I'd come drop it off," the girl shrugged softly and held out the bag that looked to have assorted dance things in it as well as flip flops. "Is she okay?"

Bryan took the bag from the girl and looked at her curiously, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, well," the brunette hesitated, running a tanned hand through her hair. "She fell during class today. I drove her home."

"She fell?" he asked, concern leaking into his voice as much as he tried to hold it back. The girl's eyes softened at seeing his unease.

"I think she almost fainted. Because she's so..."

"Deathly thin?" Bryan filled in bitterly.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Well I was just going to check and see if she was in her room. I just got home."

"Okay," she nodded. "Hey, could you call me and just let me know she's alright?" she questioned, pulling a sharpie out of her back pocket.

"Yeah," Bryan nodded, handing over a note pad from the small table next to the door. "Are you friends with my sister?" he questioned curiously. "I don't remember seeing you."

"I wouldn't say we're friends," she laughed with a shake of her head. "I'm in a few of her dance classes. She isn't too fond of me."

He took the pad back from her and laughed, "She wouldn't be. Evangeline is never fond of nice people."

The girl laughed again and shoved her Sharpie and hands back into her pockets, rocking on her feet. The sun beating down on her milk chocolate hair and tanned skin made her look like she was glowing for a second.

"So I should probably go..." she murmured.

"Yeah, uh, okay," Bryan coughed and rubbed his neck. "I'm Bryan, by the way."

"Bailey," she smiled back. "Don't forget to call and let me know how she is."

"Of course," he smiled at her as she walked to her car, got in and drove off.

Bryan shook his head and rolled his eyes, surprised that he'd just been flirting with some girl who was likely as big a dancer as his sister. And then he smirked at the fact that he had gotten her number. Sort of. And then he shook his head again.

Bryan placed the notepad back on the table, which had a ten digit number written on it over the name Bailey Sanders. He turned around, Evangeline's bag still in his hand, and started up the stairs. Bryan stopped short upon reaching the landing, because a few feet down the hallway lay his cell phone on the floor in front of the bathroom.

Curiously, Bryan dropped the bag and walked down the hall. The bathroom door was open and on the floor was a few puddles as well as what looked to be Evangeline's dance clothes. The tub was full of water that had a few ice cubes floating in it. Bryan leant down and picked up his phone from the carpeted floor of the hallway as well as Evangeline's bag. He approached her room slowly, seeing that the door was mostly closed but left open about a quarter of the way.

He reached out his hand to push the door open, paused for a moment, and then gently nudged the door. It swung open and stopped silently. Bryan stood still, staring at his sister's bed.

Evangeline was lying, bundled under her covers, with her face buried into Paul's neck and their bodies pressed together. Paul's face was nuzzled between her head and the pillow. Bryan could tell through the blankets that Paul must have had his arms around Evangeline. She was asleep, but at the sound of Bryan dropping the bag out of shock, Paul's head raised slowly, eyes bleary with tire.

"What the hell?" Bryan asked incredulously. He wasn't mad; he was too shocked to be mad. He was just thankful they were both clothed. But he also knew Evangeline and was well aware she'd never do that with someone she hated so much.

"She's sleeping, be quiet," Paul murmured just loud enough so Bryan would hear.

"You're in my sisters bed," he answered flatly.

"Nothing happened, Bryan," the guitarist rolled his eyes. "Evangeline isn't doing well."

"What happened?" the blond moved closer so they could speak more softly, growing increasingly more worried and momentarily forgetting his brotherly instincts.

Paul's face darkened and his eyes grew harder before he growled, "She almost froze to death in a fucking ice bath." And then his eyes fell back to the sleeping girl beside him who stirred and then pressed herself closer to him, and Paul's demeanor softened again.

Bryan didn't question what exactly had transpired, or why. Evangeline had apparently had a very rough day and he was in no mood to delve into it at the moment. He only let out a long, tired sigh and rubbed his eyes. He wasn't sure how much longer he could deal with all this stress all at once.

"Is she okay?"

"She will be, I think," Paul muttered, looking down at the girl in his arms before turning his dark, tortured eyes back to his friend. "She needs help, Bryan."

"I know," he whispered, completely helpless.