He didn't want to go.

This was quite possibly the lamest way to spend an evening he could've thought of.

But nevertheless, he was there.

Paul sat on the lumpy seat of a blindingly yellow school bus, a paper and pen being lazily held in one hand. It was times like this when he had really regretted signing up for the academy classes.

As part of being in the Sycamore academy program, students were required to go to a list of events where their attendance or presence alone would support the community. So basically just a couple of family-run soccer games, art galleries, and of course, the annual Hatchetfield High musical.

He had planned on using his free pass on that one in particular. Having never seen a musical, he was sure he didn't want his theatre virginity to be taken by a couple of kids he'd never met before. Not to mention, the cast here would come out after the show and that was simply too much social anxiety for him to handle. The thought of squirming his way through the crowd(because he knew he'd be the last one out) sounded downright painful.

But the school year was almost over and no more live shows were scheduled in Hatchetfield until July. Plus, the school had offered a bus service down to the much-better school for it.

So there he sat.

When the bus came to a halt outside the school's theatre, Paul jumped slightly. After the few other students filed out of the old vehicle, he pushed himself to his feet and awkwardly walked out onto the concrete sidewalk.

The inside of the theatre wing was, as predicted, crowded. The ticketing staff outside wasn't the friendliest of faces nor personalities, so this was definitely not helping. He tried to reach out to one of the student staff members for help finding his seat but was only met with a shrug from each one. It was another reminder that he wasn't the only one who had no idea what was going on. Somehow, that comforted him.

Soon, the show began. He absolutely hated the entire thing. Brigadoon was a student-led nightmare if he'd ever seen one. There was one thing that had made it all better. One might even say it had made the experience worth it all.

Her.

As soon as she had stepped foot on stage, Paul scrambled to find the girl's name in his program. Emma Perkins. He loved it.

She had the voice of an angel, the face of a goddess. He knew she must've been cast as soon as she auditioned. How could they have compared her to anyone else? He certainly couldn't. Then he remembered one of the valid points that had held him back at first.

The cast came out after the show.

Was this a stupid idea? Yes. Would he regret it in the end? Probably. Were his hands sweaty just thinking about it? A thousand times yes. Was he going to do it anyway? Of course.

So the show ended and the cast came out, as predicted. He searched everywhere to find her. And then he found her.

She didn't want to do this.

This was quite possibly the worst way to earn her art credit. 

But nevertheless, she was there.

Emma fiddled with the hem of her skirt, just waiting to go on stage. "Bonnie Jean" they had called five minutes ago. "Fuck off" she had said in response. Her cue wasn't for another twenty minutes, so in a way, that was reasonable.

Hatchetfield High had a set of requirements to graduate, as most schools do. Mostly credits. One would need four years of English, math, and science, alongside three years of history. Then there were the points that would get you to the finish line: two years of any class in the art wing and two years of any language.

Theatre had sounded like an easy A when she spotted it on the list. All she would have to do is read some lines off a script, right?

Sometimes she really hated herself and her tendency to jump to conclusions.

Her friends from the class had convinced her to audition. Not only would it be "something to do" and "bonding time", but it would also give her a grade boost in class. God only knew how much she needed that. The grade boost, that is. Laying on the couch and ignoring people all day was something she'd quite enjoyed.

Her first instinct when stepping foot on stage was to scan the crowd as she threw out her lines. It was an awful instinct, she'd honestly admit, but when she made eye contact with a certain boy, it really showed how terrible it was. It had gotten to the point where her friend had to elbow her. She'd gotten distracted. Well shit.

She made a mental note to find him after the show and got back to it.

And, as planned, Emma stood to the side when the cast came out to meet family and friends. It wasn't like anyone was there to see her anywho. This way, it'd be easier to scope out the scene. And then she found him.

Paul did his best to casually rush over to her. They'd made eye contact so now it just appeared to be two friends meeting up. It was anything but.

Being right in front of her, Paul had two thoughts: 1) How can someone be so short? And, 2) Shit he forgot what he was going to say.

He stumbled with his words at first but eventually managed to get out a mumbled "you did great in the show!", to which Emma responded to with, "what did you say?" In both of their defenses, she had the tiniest hint of a smile appear, so neither minded the confusion much.

"Oh- uh," Paul mentally cursed himself, "I just said, um...you did a really good job up on the, uh, stage." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at her with a smile that took no effort to produce. That was new.

Emma breathed out a short laugh. She leaned against the wall on her shoulder, arms crossed. "Well thank you." Biting her lip, she stared up at him for but a second. "I'm, uh, Emma."

"Paul." He nodded.

With that being said, the air between them fell silent. Neither knew what to say, whether it be words being caught in their throat or rather they just lacked the ability to be thought of. They both desperately grabbed at straws for even just the slightest idea of how to move on.

"I haven't seen you around Hatchetfield High before." Emma started, standing up a little straighter and catching his attention once more. "You're a Sycamore kid I'm gonna guess?"

Paul nodded again as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He did his best to look somewhat cool and put together. "Yeah."

They were like Romeo and Juliet minus the whole death thing, she hoped. The student body would quite literally murder her if they ever became "a thing". Paul noted the same thing.

But, some things are worth it.

Emma wasn't one to automatically assume a romantic relationship was brewing when she met a boy. Something about this one, Paul, felt different though. She couldn't place her finger on it. Maybe it was the way he sat up slightly every time she'd look at him from the stage, or the look he gave her when she spoke to him. She'd figure it out one day.

"I've been to Sycamore maybe...once?" Emma attempted to start up something again. "My friend, Ted, and I uh...we snuck in one day instead of going here." A small laugh escaped her at the fond memory. Paul had never had his heart leap at a simple sound before, yet here they were.

He chuckled. "Did you ever get caught?" He watched as she shook her head and attempted to remember anything of possible interest.

She shrugged. "No, not yet at least. We met a couple of people and had them help us out with the whole thing."

Paul gaped, a lightbulb going off in his head. "You're the girl Mary was talking about? Mary...Kate, I think."

"Yeah! That's one of the guys I met!" Emma brightened up whilst they started to connect their stories together.

"She's in my, uh, math class, I think. Was talking about it to her friend during a lesson and I guess I just...picked some of it up." 

Another dot connected in her head. "Mathews! You're Paul Matthews!" Emma grinned as if this were some sort of answer to the universe. "She was telling me about you at some point, no idea when though."

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "She was talking about me?" 

She nodded. "I hear you're pretty boring."

Cheeks flushing, Paul tried to come up with some response to that. Witty or dumb, it didn't matter. Though apparently, he took too long, which was a notification he received through the sound of another soft laugh. Again, it was worth it.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." Emma bit her lip and scanned his face. "You have an email?"

He perked up. "Yeah! Uh- do you have a...pen or something?"

She gestured to the paper, pen, and program in his hand. "I think you got this one covered."

They quickly exchanged contact information, mainly just emails since neither of their parents had blessed them with the privilege of a flip phone yet. By now, the theatre lobby was starting to empty. Paul noticed the bus outside beginning to load kids onto it and sighed. He turned back to her. "Um...talk later?"

Emma waved her scrap of paper with teenage boy handwriting on it in the air. "I'm looking forward to it."

With an exchange of goodbyes, Paul ran off to secure his seat on the bus. He quickly grabbed the first seat he could, which just so happened to be beside the teacher.

"You look happy. Enjoy the show?" She asked, scanning him up and down.

He nodded. "I, uh, guess you could say that."