Dawson is- most people who don't know him would say- as straight as they come. And senior year away from home promises to be a big year for him: no parents in sight, a whole new set of friends, he just seems to have it all. Not to mention that all t...
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THERE ARE THREE things that Dawson Evans hates more than anything in the world: high school, his parents, and sports involving balls. The latter trauma can be traced back to elementary school when he was forced to play dodgeball, but never once managed to actually dodge one.
His parents insisted he started taking fencing lessons when he was 5 years old and it's still nowadays the only sport he has ever liked or excelled at. His parents insisted he started taking piano lessons when he was 4 years old, so now he can play Beethoven's Hammerklavier with his eyes closed. His parents also insisted he started taking French and Spanish classes when he was 6 because their friends' kids were all bilingual so he had to speak at least three languages instead.
There are three things that Dawson Evans loves more than anything in the world: maths, indie movies, and astronomy.
So when he turned 16, he got a tattoo to piss off his parents. It was a small, faithful reproduction of Saturn. You may be wondering why he picked that particular planet.
Well, being the astronomy geek he is, Dawson discovered a fun fact about that planet: The density of Saturn is lower than the one of water, meaning that if you were to immerse it in water, it would always stay afloat. Kinda like he did.
He found the analogy fascinating, so he walked into the closest tattoo place in town all smug and proud, holding a picture of Saturn he'd downloaded from the NASA website and got the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. His parents grounded him for two weeks.
He regrets it now.
However, that was the beginning of a series of teenage transgressions and minor misconducts that got him transferred to Wharton High, a prestigious boarding school on the other side of the country, home to many other rich kids with a poor understanding of the rules of society and common decency.
Aside from controlling parents and terrible socialization skills, Dawson Evans has it all. He's 6'5'' tall, fit and with a perfectly symmetrical body, sculpted by hours of training, blonde messy hair and a naturally sun-kissed skin even in the middle of the winter. And, not to be corny, but his irises are the same green of daisies' stems in mid-spring and his devilish smile could make a toothpaste testimonial blush with envy. He's easily the smartest guy in the room every single time. His distinctive trait is his sharp tongue, though he barely ever talks to people, so this can easily be considered insider information.
Now, as he's walking through the gates of Wharton High, wearing his dandy blue pinstriped shirt and carrying his leather duffel bag on his back, looking like a model straight out of a Polo Ralph Lauren ad, he can almost hear the sound of everyone catching their breath.
The herd of girls on the right side of the entrance is already calling dibs on him like he's a piece of meat. Their fake eyelashes fan their flushed cheeks as they squeal and giggle about how hot the new guy is and Dawson has to resist the temptation to roll his eyes at them. They're probably freshmen, Dawson thinks to himself as he walks past them with a straight face on that doesn't show any enthusiasm.
