That Summer

It was almost halfway through September and Evangeline still didn't know what she was doing with her life. She had a plane ticket to Heathrow Airport for the following week. She'd had it since she accepted the dance company's offer in the beginning of the season. She'd been so sure back then; so positive that this would be her life.

But now, she just didn't know.

Her bags were packed and her passport was ready, but they were in her closet. She didn't know if she'd ever be taking them out. Her heart didn't ache for ballet anymore. Her toes didn't yearn to support her weight, her arms didn't beg to float through the air. Her body didn't want it like it used to.

Evangeline had different things to look forward to now. Before, she had ballet and only ballet. She didn't have a boyfriend or friends to speak of. At the time, she thought she had Lauren and Amber but soon realized that they'd just used her for status. She'd had school, too, but now she no longer had or needed that. But now; now Evangeline had a lot. Dance was gone, sure, but other things took its place. She had friends - real friends, friends who cared about her. She had drawing. And she had Paul.

It seemed that in losing what she'd thought was her future, she'd gained a new life. The only thing that now worried her was if a new future came with this life or not. She wasn't sure if giving up a career that she'd worked for her entire life was the best idea.

She didn't know if she should give up something she definitely had, for a unknown and an unplanned maybe.

What if she gave up ballet and in a year she found she couldn't live without it? What if she took the flight to London and found she couldn't stand to wear toe shoes anymore? What if she stayed in Boston and went to art school and they told her she wasn't good enough? What if she just couldn't handle it?

What if? What if? What if?

--

"Don't force yourself," Paul murmured in Evangeline's ear, just low enough that neither his father or brother heard him.
"I'm not. This is just really good," she countered just as quietly.
"Ev, it's spaghetti," he rolled his eyes.
" Everything alright?" Mr. DiGiovanni questioned from across the dinner table.

Evangeline jumped and blushed as if she'd been caught doing something bad. Paul and Joe snorted to which Evangeline glared profusely.

"She just isn't hungry is all," Paul informed his father for Evangeline. She nudged him in the ribs forcefully but sighed anyway, knowing Paul was right. She'd eaten a whole half a plate of pasta. That was more than she'd eaten in a very long time.
"Well, don't force it," Mr. DiGiovanni shrugged. "Just enjoy it. It'll be one of Paul's last family dinners for a while." Evangeline raised her eyebrows in confusion, turning to Paul curiously.
"Oh?" she questioned.
"Well, yeah. I mean when he leaves for tour next week he won't really be home that often," Joe commented.

Evangeline just about choked on air. Paul? Leaving? Tour?

When the hell had this happened?

But, of course, Evangeline realized this had always been in the cards. She'd known Boys Like Girls would be touring. She'd known they were leaving the day after she was scheduled to depart for London. She'd known all along, she'd just forgotten. Maybe she hadn't wanted to think about it. Maybe her subconscious had been saving her. After all, what was she going to do without Paul here?

"You did know I was leaving, right Evan?" Paul asked in a joking manner.
The blonde forced back a grin, "Yeah. I just forgot it was so soon."
"Well, he'll be back before you know it," his father smiled fondly. "Besides, though, aren't you going to be dancing? In England?"
"Oh, well," Evangeline spoke over the lump in her throat. "I'm not so sure. I haven't danced in a while because I injured myself and I'm just...not sure," she finished lamely.

Mr. DiGiovanni and Joe nodded, obviously somewhat surprised by the news. The eldest then stood abruptly and announced that he and his son had to leave Paul and Evangeline alone. Apparently they had a meeting they had to attend about Joe's future in college.

"Don't burn the house down or anything," Paul's father joked as he dragged his son out the door.

Paul and Evangeline cleaned up the kitchen and then settled in his room to watch a movie. It was Apocalypto. Or at least Evangeline thought it was Apocalypto. She wasn't really paying attention. All she could focus on was how Paul's arms felt around her, how his quiet breathing sounded in his ear and how, in a week, he wouldn't be there anymore. She would be alone.

"You okay?" Paul questioned. At some point the movie had ended and he'd shut the TV off so they were cuddled on his bed, shrouded in darkness.
"Just thinking," Evangeline murmured back softly.
"You sure?" he asked again, this time staring at her glistening eyes in the dark.
She sighed, "Yeah." Silence fell and Evangeline sighed once again, taking in Paul's scent once she inhaled again. "Paul?"
"Mmm?" he hummed back into her hair.
"Kiss me," she whispered.

Paul looked at her carefully then, not liking how her voice sounded one bit. She seemed worried. She seemed upset. She seemed insecure. He didn't like the fact that she was feeling those things; he didn't even like the thought of Evangeline feeling any of those things.

But Paul consented, and he kissed her. And she didn't let him stop.

--

Thought Paul had fallen asleep hours ago, Evangeline hadn't been able to. She pretended she dozed off shortly before Paul actually had, but in reality she had been laying awake in her boyfriend's arms since he closed his eyes.

All Evangeline had been able to think of was her impending doom; also known as the following week. Ever since things had begun going down hill that summer, Evangeline had had someone to keep her standing. If it wasn't Paul, it was Bryan and if it wasn't Bryan it was Bailey. But now Bryan and Paul were leaving for tour and Bailey was attending art school all week.

What about Monday through Friday, between the phone calls from various cities on the road, when girls were swooning over her brother and boyfriend and her only true friend now was creating masterpieces on canvases? Evangeline wasn't so sure if she could stand on her own.

All of these thoughts had caused the eighteen year old's head to start spinning. Her palms were clammy and Paul's arms around her waist which had at one point felt comforting were now stifling. Her stomach started to knot up as her mind - so convinced and so deluded - came to a plethora of solutions.

Of course, she realized. That was the problem. If she were more beautiful, Paul wouldn't want to leave her. If she were thinner, he'd stay.

Paul wasn't leaving to realize his dreams; he was leaving to escape.

And it was these thoughts alone that caused Evangeline's throat to tighten and forced her limbs to wiggle their way from Paul's grasp without waking him. And it was this that made her feet carry her to the bathroom. And it was this that found her curled over the toilet in the bathroom between Paul and Joe's bedrooms; the lights off and nothing to cover her near nonexistent gags.

Once she'd emptied the entirety of her stomach, the stomach that had been so faithfully holding food in for her for several glorious days now, she leant back on the wall. As the tears fell down her cheeks, Evangeline breathed in deeply through her nose, trying to stifle her sobs.

"Evan?"

It was so quiet. Almost like a whisper or a murmur of wind through an open window. But it sounded so hurt, so horrifically betrayed that the voice was inexplicably piercing in her ears.

Maybe she shouldn't have been so surprised to look up and see Paul's face just as wounded as his voice.