Owen's POV
Listen, I know it's bad, especially with what she's told me she's gone through, but I can't help thinking about what Evelina would be like in bed.
I do this for many people, of course: my college partner Dani was exactly like I thought they would be (boring); Katie was always an excitement (although I don't want to think about her right now); I'd even thought it about Jack, although I can never seem to figure him out. Maybe it's because I still don't know enough about him after, like, six months. I think the mystery surrounding him has made me more intrigued than anyone else has.
But yeah, Evelina.
Funny as it sounds, and it definitely sounds funny coming from me - Doctor Drops-His-Trousers - but I can't picture her having sex. I can picture her doing other things, though: hugging, kissing, making a cuppa; laughing about something I said with that curl of her lip, the slight upturn of the corner of her mouth. I've never pictured anyone like that before - with their clothes on in my presence.
"Owen?" her telltale energetic voice travels from the main room of the Hub to the autopsy room, where I've been sipping a mug of coffee and going through sheafs of paper that Toshiko gave me about the case everyone's working on - I need to perform an autopsy on the dead alien we found in a few hours.
I look up from my sip. "You all right, Evelina?"
She gives me a mocking look. "Are you all right, Owen? I've never heard you say my full name before."
"Actually, your full name is Evelina Cosmo Firestone, so yes I have now said your full name."
"Smart bastard," she laughs, and leans on the table with her elbows weighing down a piece of paper I need. I give her a friendly push to get her off and slide the paper out from under her arm, and she pushes me back, still laughing.
I like making her laugh - it was one of my main attributes, before my life was shattered and I ended up in Torchwood.
"Right, I wanna talk to you now, not being funny," she begins, and I glance at her from my paperwork, "I'm going on a date tonight, so I wanna ask, uh... what exactly do I do on a date? I've asked Tosh, and she's told me the basics, but seeing as you're a guy, and he's a guy, well as far as I know... I was wondering if you could help me? Show me what to wear, tell me how to behave, and the like?"
I'm surprised - very surprised. Evelina just came from a drugring, where she was used and abused by men constantly, and now she's going on a date? That shouldn't happen, right? Who knows who this guy is?
I let go of my papers and lean back in my chair, dangling my leg on the floor steadying the wheels with the other propped up on the seat. "And how did you meet this man?"
"What are you, my boyfriend?" she raises an eyebrow and says incredulously. She stands up properly and crosses her arms. "Amber took me to this events night at the community hall - you know, the one down the bay where Roald Dahl was baptised, the Norwegian church - and at the snacks table I reached for a Jammie Dodger at the same time the guy did. So he asked me some stuff about myself, and after expertly omitting the drugring and amnesia and alien hunting, we talked for a while and he gave me his number. And the other day he asked me on a date."
She smiles triumphantly, and in that moment I realise that this might be the first time Evelina's ever been on a date.
This is a huge deal for her. I remember my first date: I was twelve, and absolutely terrified that in the dark cinema where we watched the most popular viewing at the time, she would want to make out with me when I had never done that before. It was a lifetime away from the confident slut I am now.
It's a special occasion; I can't not help her. Especially when it's possibly her first time.
Something twinges in my stomach. I don't know what kind of something it is, but I don't like feeling it.
She's watching me expectantly, a look of earnest on her face.
Evelina is a precious commodity, strong but ever so slightly socially inept. I can't help but feel that she's not ready for the world of romance, dates, and sex.
But, again, I can't not help her.
So I tell her the traditions and expectations for a date and she listens closely, then we walk home to her flat after work and she rushes off to get ready.
She opens the door and, holy shit, if she weren't my flatmate and coworker, I would want to take her on this date.
Her brown hair is newly washed and laid out neatly round her shoulders, which are bare as she wears a spaghetti strap black dress, which I had no idea she has.
As she frowns at me, I realise my jaw is partially dropped and rearrange it to a look of careful surprise. "I... didn't realise you had a little black dress."
"Yeah, Tosh told me that it's what women wear on a first date. It's a little juvenile though - a tradition of women wear something small and stereotypically 'slimming' for the first time they're seeing someone they want to have sex with? Surely the person is likely to have sex with them anyway, because they've already agreed to see this person in a romantic way? I mean, for allosexuals, anyway."
You got it pegged, Evy.
Before I can open my mouth to agree with her, she looks at her watch and realises she's late and says a quick goodbye before running out the door. I guess Tosh didn't tell her about the high heels on the date too, as she can clearly dash about easier in her black trainers.
With a sigh over something I'm not sure of, I turn back to my laptop where I'm planning to search for something I've forgotten the name of.
I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm her flatmate.
Maybe it's because I'm still not over Katie.
But I want to know more about her.
But I shouldn't; that would mean she would get to know me too, and to know me more is to like me less. Trust me - I know from firsthand experience.
I just... I just...
I guess I just need to stop thinking about her.