Somewhere in the Middle

Gone With the Wind

Evie stared at the dwindling line still ahead of her, then over at Harrison, who was clearly flirting with some of the fans grouped around his table as he held up t-shirts for them to admire.

"Actually, I think I'll get the medium," the girl in front of her said, drawing Evie's attention away from the way the girls stared at Harrison's ass as he bent over to grab something off the floor.

Evie reached down and grabbed a size medium t-shirt. "That's probably a good idea," she said. "This particular style runs a bit smaller. That's $25. Was there anything else you wanted?"

"Just the CD," the girl said, already rummaging through her bag for her wallet.

"Hey," a voice said, and Evie didn't have to look up to know who it was. But she did anyway.

Luke was all sweaty—the ends of his curls were wet and even curlier because of it. He smiled down at the girl standing in front of Evie, who had finally managed to get her wallet out, but seemed to have forgotten about her purchases completely.

"Hi," Luke said to her, smiling as he leaned over to hug her. Evie knew that hug—she knew the way his strong arms could make you feel like they were the only thing keeping you grounded after he flashed you that smile. "How'd you like the show?" he asked when he pulled away, his eyes still on the girl, whose face lit up at being given so much attention. He kept his hand on her arm too, and Evie smiled when she noticed the girl's cheeks going red.

As she gushed about the performance, the rest of the line crowded around Lucas, waiting for their turn to receive his attention. But for now, he only focused on the short girl in front of him, listening to what she had to say, and when he asked for her name, Evie heard her say, "Vanessa."

"Hey," Evie said after they'd been chatting for a minute or two. Lucas looked up at her, and she grinned at him. "You're holding up my line."

He held his hands up, but he was grinning, too. "Whoops, sorry. You heard the boss, gals. Can't hold up the works."

"Wait, Luke. Luke!" voices called, and he smiled at Evie, shrugging as if to say, "Can't help it."

She should've expected it at this point. This always happened when he came out after a show. And he always came out after a show. So, Evie worked around him, calling out "Next!" after each and every customer, trying to keep the line moving despite him, all while listening to the way he spoke to each fan, and eyeing the way he smiled for their pictures, and slung his arm around their shoulders.

There would always be something about it that amazed her—the way he could make everyone and anyone feel like the most important person in the world, just by listening, and caring about what each person he came across had to say.

She thought of Jamie, then. Of the way she'd been under the impression that he was so different from Luke. The way she thought he could never care about people as much or as deeply as Luke did. But she had been wrong. So very wrong.

After the last few days of getting to know Jamie—it still made butterflies flutter their wings in Evie's stomach to think of the way he'd been choosing to open up to her—she realized that even though he seemed cold, and even though he was clearly angry, he wasn't closed off all the time. He opened up every night. To complete strangers. He had the heart and soul of a performer, of an artist, and he poured that soul out on stage every single time he went up there.

It was no wonder he wanted to keep things a little closer to the chest the rest of the time.

But not with her. Not anymore.

"Thank you," Evie said to the last group of people standing around the table. Harrison was already almost done packing up his stuff. "Get home safe, you guys!"