That Summer

Paul DiGiovanni was a hopeless romantic.

As much as he liked to think he wasn't, and as much as he told himself in his mind that he didn't want to be his heart screamed out something completely different.

Paul was the kind of guy that always had a soft spot for happy endings and he liked to think that one day he, too, would get the girl. He liked to think that he could be the kind of guy that a girl would find attractive.

Maybe it was part of being a guy, because apparently most males had the same sort of attitude, but Paul had always wanted to be the knight in shining armor. He wanted to save the girl, deliver her from her evils, protect her from any future dangers.

He had yet to do that for a girl. Sure, he'd had a girlfriend every now and then but they were casual things and in his head and heart he always found himself going back to the same girl.

Paul was eleven when he realized he was in love with Evangeline Rose Donahue.

For most guys, they would say they fell for a girl like her when they saw her dressed up for a school dance; when they saw her sitting in the school cafeteria, laughing with her friends; or maybe the first time they saw her dancing on stage to the music of Swan Lake.

But it was not a time like this that Paul realized his feelings.

Instead, it was a cold winter day in Massachusetts and he was heading over to the Donahue's house to hang out with his older friend, Bryan. It was snowing and Paul was cold as he rang the doorbell and patiently awaited the door to open.

It was the exact moment that the door swung open to reveal a small Evangeline, who was very obviously home sick from ballet class, that Paul's heart melted right in his chest.

It was something about the way she was cuddled up in flannel Strawberry Shortcake pajamas, something about the way her nose was pink from constantly wiping it and something about how her blonde hair was up in a messy, frizzy bun. It was something about the way she was still beautiful at her worst.

Evangeline was appalled, even at such a young age, to be seen by someone who went to her school (and was in her grade, no less) in such a horrible state. She instantly called up to her brother in a feeble, cracking voice before retreating back to her paused movie and mound of blankets on the family room couch.

Bryan came downstairs only a few seconds later and had to practically drag Paul up the stairs. Paul had followed his friend, regardless, and they had spent hours playing video games as the snow continued to fall outside.

But in all the six years that had followed, Paul DiGiovanni's heart had never left the side of a sick little Evangeline Donahue.

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It was the last day of finals weeks and currently Paul, thanks to the glories of alphabetical order, was sitting right beside Evangeline.

It was the only final he had seen her present at, for unless the exam was state required all seniors with averages ninety or above were exempt from the final in that particular class, and this test was state required.

Evangeline sat beside Paul with four number two pencils - all sharpened to almost lethal points - three black ink pens and extra scrap paper situated neatly in the upper left hand corner of her desk. She kept her test booklet folded at all times so as not to use up any extra space than she needed to.

Paul's desk was more like a disaster zone. His scrap paper was splayed haphazardly across the surface and he had only two pencils, one of which was barely sharpened and the other that had no eraser whatsoever. His text booklet was half hanging off his desk most of the time and he had only one pen; blue ink and barely much thereof.

They had two hours of allotted time to complete the test and were required to stay for every minute of that time.

Evangeline finished in an hour and fifteen minutes and proceeded to tidy her desk even more so, fold her hands and wait patiently.

Paul worked until the tests were collected and even then barely had time to scribble his last answer down. He was still shoving his writing utensils in his pocket when he looked up and caught sight of Evangeline exiting the door to the room with her bag slung over her shoulder.
Since the last final of the year was officially over, seniors now had a week to wait until the graduation ceremony; during which time teachers would grade all things for their seniors so those unfortunate few who didn't pass could be told before the ceremony.

But it didn't matter much for people like Paul and Evangeline; people who didn't need high school diplomas for where they were going required performing, not reciting facts or taking tests.

They were much more alike than they knew.

Paul was on his way to his car outside the school building when he saw Evangeline standing on the sidewalk with a phone to her ear, sans friends. She was angry, hissing something quickly into her phone before snapping it shut with a 'humph.'

"Hey, Ev? Do you need a ride?" Paul asked cautiously.
"Paul," she sighed in the manner a queen would to a serf who requested more private land. "First off, my name is Evangeline, second you live on the other side of town than my house, and third I have to grab my stuff and head to ballet."
"I don't mind," he tried again, perhaps a bit overeagerly. "I have to go over your place to write, anyway."
"So you're going to drive me home to get my stuff, to the theater and then you're going to return to my house?"

He nodded in the affirmative with a smile gracing his face. Evangeline sighed as if this were the biggest inconvenience in her life.

"Whatever. It's your gas money."

And with that Evangeline started towards Paul's beat up old sedan. He followed behind with a bit more pep in his step, seeing as he was driving home the girl he was head over heels for.

The fact that she thought him a nuisance didn't bother him one bit. He considered it a minor detail, easily overlooked.

After all, Paul DiGiovanni was a hopeless romantic that always liked to think one day he'd get the girl.

One day.