That Summer

Some people would say Evangeline was nice, while some would beg to differ and say that she was a bitch. Some would say that she was stuck up; some would say she was just proper. Some would say she knew where her morals lay, and other would argue she needed to get laid.

But there was always one thing that was indisputable about Evangeline; when she danced you couldn't take your eyes off of her.

And that was something that Paul was well aware of, as he sat in the back row of the theater and watched her glide from side to side on her toes.

Evangeline did not know that Paul had returned to the theater after initially dropping her off. Sure, he had gone back to the Donahue's home where the rest of the band was. He had hung out with them, helped write some and they had practiced a few songs but once Mr. and Mrs. Donahue left to go watch their daughter perform, Paul had made up a story and followed ten minutes behind them. He had entered the theater just as the first song was beginning and proceeded to slip into a seat in the dark of the last few rows.

He found himself unable to tear his gaze from Evangeline's slight form as she moved around gracefully. Paul could tell that she loved what she was doing. It was all written in her face. Watching her made him smile.

Paul liked to think that he gave off the same vibe when he performed with his band. He liked to think that when kids watched him with his guitar, they could really feel that this was what he loved; what he was born for. He liked to think that he looked like that was where he belonged, because he knew it was.

It was halfway through the ballet when Paul realized that it was eight o'clock and that if he didn't get back to the Donahue's house sometime soon, he would never live it down. His interest in Bryan's sister wasn't exactly a secret.

It was just as a song was ending and Evangeline was taking her last pose on the stage that Paul stood and began making his way out of the theater as unnoticed as possible.

Unfortunately, he wasn't aware that from where Evangeline was he was in plain view.

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Bryan, Martin and John were sitting in Bryan's room with two acoustic guitars and a notebook between them.

John was alternating between writing down ideas as they were being presented and drumming out beats with his finger tips as he sat in the computer chair. Bryan was messing with a hacky sack on his bed and Martin was in the floor, his back against the wall with one of the acoustic guitars in his lap; the second was laying on the bed beside Bryan.

Paul entered the room casually. He made his way to the bed and sat down, taking the guitar in his lap as he mumbled a 'hey' to the group.

They all mumbled their greetings back and the room fell silent.

Until John decided to break it.

"So, you only stayed for half the ballet?" he questioned as he scribbled something else in the notebook. Martin and Bryan both snorted.
"You guys know I went to help my mom with something," Paul rolled his eyes.
"Too bad you told us you had to go pick up your brother," Martin chimed in.
Paul mentally cursed himself, "I fucking hate you guys."
"Look, dude," Bryan clapped him on the back. "We know how you feel about my sister, but you know how Evangeline gets."
"Yeah, man. She turned me down. Who does that?" Martin asked.
John laughed, "Any girl with the hope of staying STD free."

Martin took this opportunity to shoot his friend the one finger salute as Bryan and Paul simply rolled their eyes.

"Poolie, it's Evangeline. She's a bitch," Bryan stated bluntly.
"Dude, that's your sister."
"I know. And it's the truth," he replied.
"She's not a bitch," Paul protested as his features fell into a soft scowl.
"Seriously," Bryan shook his head. "She's not worth it."

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Later that night, Paul was standing in the bathroom that Bryan and Evangeline shared, brushing his teeth. He was staying the night there partly because he was too lazy the go home, and partly because maybe he was hoping to see Evangeline again.

And just as he stood up from rinsing his mouth, he saw her slim figure standing behind him in the doorway to the bathroom, almost causing him to choke on air.

"Hey," he started slowly, taking in her dress of a tank top and pajama pants.
"Hello, Paul," she sighed and made her way to the sink.
"So you had a recital tonight?" he questioned.
Evangeline looked at him, almost amusedly, before nodding her head. "Yes. I'll find out in the next two days if any companies are interested in me."
"Do you have any in mind?" He asked it with the type of tenor that one would hold when begging their parents to let them go somewhere. Paul was grasping at straws to keep this conversation going.
"New York, San Francisco, London, Paris, Moscow," she shrugged. "I'm a shoe-in here at Boston."
Paul nodded his head, knowing by the tone of her voice that this conversation was over.
"Good night, I guess," he began walking away.
"I saw you, you know," she said as she stuck her tooth brush in her mouth.
"What?"
She rinsed with water and wiped her face before answering, "At the theatre. I saw you. You were in the back and tried to sneak out half way through. I'm not stupid."

A blush grew on the boys cheeks as he stood in the light of the bathroom, illuminated from the dark of the hallway at his back.

"Paul, it's cute and all that you're kind of obsessed with me but the whole stalking thing is sort of bordering on creepy," she tilted her head as she spoke, placing a hand on her popped hip.
"I wasn't stalking you. I just-" but the words 'like to watch you dance' died on his lips as he realized that reason was awfully creepy.
"You should go find some nice girl with three toned hair and a nose ring. You're not my type," Evangeline spoke an idea that was meant to help but her tone and the specific words used were soaked in arrogance and ego.

Her eyes trailed from his socked feet to his skinny jeans, his tight I Am The Pilot shirt, lip ring and then to his messy, shaggy hair. His gaze fell to the ground.

"Oh," Paul murmured and nodded.
"Goodnight. Oh, and don't be loud. I have to get up for training at four-thirty tomorrow. I can't afford to fall out of shape," she forced a cordial smile and started on her way to her room. Paul only nodded and headed the short distance to Bryan's door, his head hung in shame.
"Oh, and Paul?" Evangeline called. He turned around slowly, eyebrows raised. "You have toothpaste on your lip ring."

With that she disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door. Paul wiped at the ring on his face. Sure enough he pulled it away and saw white on his finger. He shook his head and entered Bryan's room, who instantly took in his friend's upset appearance with a sigh and watched him curl up on the floor with a blanket and pillow.

"You talked to Evangeline, didn't you?"
"Goodnight, Bryan."