Brandon stared across his dorm room, stoking the hair on the side of his head methodically. His blinkless gaze was fixed on something, although he couldn't pinpoint what exactly he was looking at. Not that he was paying any attention to much at all. Inside his head, little cogs were turning themselves around his brain, thinking of another solution, something more stealthy, something less noticeable. No doubt the brother would come rushing down to save his twin sister if he decided to go through with his initial plan and kidnap Erin.
But kidnapping was so 1990's, and he needed something more modern, more unexpected. He didn't want to kill Erin, just make her sorry she dumped him, and went for Connor, and wanted to hurt Connor in a way he'd never before been hurt.
Brandon had seen the look he was giving Erin earlier before he'd interrupted them; Connor was in love with Erin. And he barely even knew her.

Brandon shifted, his gaze becoming unlocked, and he laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Something, he must come up with something good. Something that won't cause the brother to come down and add more drama, something that Connor would be defenseless against, something something....
And that's when he decided on a kidnapping, although if you could call it a 'kid'napping, since she was nearing legal age, he wasn't sure. It was so old school and expected that it was completely obvious that it was what they WOULDN'T be expecting.

So, he decided. I'll kidnap Erin, but what am I going to do with her?? How will I make Connor pay for stealing my girlfriend?
"Hmmmm..." Brandon wondered out loud, rubbing his head back and forth.
Then, a brilliant idea came to his mind. He could do what Connor did to him. He could make Connor watch him with Erin. He would tie Connor up to a chair, and make him watch while he kissed Erin, while he touched Erin, and who knew what else!! What a brilliant idea.

A smile folded it's way across Brandon's lips, and a glimmer shown through his eye. Now all he needed to do was find the right moment.

-~-

Erin lifted her head groggily to check the time. "Ugggh!" she moaned, and rolled over, right into Connor's bare chest, and Erin let out a muffled yip of surprise.
Luckily, she hadn't woken Connor, and she rolled back over, trying to think of why the guy was in her bed, closer than any other guy had been for a night.

Then it came. The group had stayed up playing Egyptian Ratscrew all night, and by the time everyone was ready to go to bed, Connor was already passed out on her bed, so she'd climbed in on the opposite side, and fallen asleep.
Erin rubbed her eyes, and looked over at the sleeping guy. His arm was under his head, supporting his pillow, and his hair danced when he blew air out of his mouth in a faint snore. Dark, long eyelashes lined his eyes, and freckles dotted his nose, though there weren't quite as many as there were on her own nose.
As she observed, she felt the continuing longing to slide over and tuck her head under his chin, and lay in his curved body. She could almost feel a ghost of his arm laying around her waist, her back against his chest, his face in her straightened hair.
As though on cue, Connor's breath caught a little, and his eyes fluttered open. Erin smiled at him, admiring the way his jaw was so masculine, so tight, with barely any stubble to shadow his mouth.

Connor looked Erin up and down, taking in his surroundings before he smiled at her too, rolled onto his back and stretched, groaning from unused muscles.
"Good morning, sunshine," he said to her with a gust of morning breath, and his eyes got wide. "Ha," he laughed nervously, covering his mouth. "Sorry 'bout that."
Erin just smiled at him with an amused look, and shrugged. Then, she threw back the covers and sat up. "Morning," she replied, looking around the room, seeing the other boys much like they had been the first morning Erin had seen them. Snoring, and sound asleep.

"So, why you up so early?" Connor asked her. Erin looked over her shoudler at him. "You're up just as early as I am." she replied calmly, and stood up.
Connor followed suit. "Well, yeah, but I always get up this early. Even on Saturdays."
Erin gave him a look. "Why?" she asked.
Connor grinned boyishly and flushed red. "Saturday morning cartoons, why else?" he asked, and Erin giggled softly, making her way toward the stairs.
Connor followed her like a puppy-dog follows its young master loyally. "So," he said once he left the bedrooms. Erin tuned around to face him once she was at the bottom of the stairs.
"Are we going to finish your book?" Connor finished.
Erin smiled at him, and shook her head. "No, I forgot it upstairs today." she replied, and motioned up the stairs with her head.

Connor sighed. "Oh, okay."
"Why, do you like that book?" she asked playfully.
Connor shook his head. "No, not particularly, I like sitting there with you, reading the book with your head on my chest."
His blunt answer shocked Erin. She'd been expecting him to snort, and make excuses for liking a girlie book. "Oh," she replied, her head pulling back against her shoulders, and she looked around the cabin nervously.
Connor laughed at her, and rolled a finger gently down her shoulder. "You want to go back to the Art Hall with me today?" he asked her, his eyes studying her face.
Erin nodded. "Sure," she replied with a bright smile, looking up back into his dark hazeley eyes. "That sounds great." she added, and the feeling that consumed her body earlier was back, knocking on the door of her heart. She wanted to hug him, lean into his body, pull her arms into her chest and feel his arms wrap around her waist, and put his face into the nape of her neck. She could almost feel his breath on her cheek, loving the way that could feel.

Reality smacked her in the face just then. "Well?" he asked her brightly, his hands on her shoulders. He'd obviously asked her a question, and she'd completely missed it.
"I'm sorry, I missed that. I was thinking of something else. What did you say?" she asked, her cheeks turning red from embarrassment.
Connor's face fell, but only just so. "I said we should go now, and I can probably finish what I was painting by noon. If we leave now, anyway."
Erin nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, sounds great." she said, and looked down at her dress; a tank top and short, black shorts. "I'll need to go and change though." she added.
Connor pulled at his own tank-top. "Me too," he replied.
Erin snickered, and pushed around him playfully. "I'll beat you." she taunted

-~-

Erin parked her car in front of the Art "Room" and turned off her car, turning all the knobs on her dash down.
Connor gave her an odd look. "Why do you do that?" he asked her, examining the dash.
Erin shrugged. "It's a habit. Something that my dad did, and so I do it." she replied simply.
"Gotcha." Connor replied, and got out of the car.
They quickly went inside to be bathed by the cool air. They were greeted by Theresa, the Art "Hall" lady, and they went to their corner in the side of the room.
"Hey ya'll," she said with her thick southern accent. "Lemme know if you need anything," she added, and continued with her pot she was twirling around and around on it's small table.
Connor lifted his hand, and pulled out his work from a cubby he'd stored it in the day before, and handed Erin her comic-strip.
"You won't show me what you're doing?" she asked him, sticking her lower lip out.
Connor shook his head. "Nope." he replied. "I'm show you when I'm done. I have to finish with the outline, and then start painting."
"Oh, so you're going to paint?" she asked Connor, who nodded, clipping his page up to an easel, just as he had the day before, so he could still talk to Erin, but she knew they wouldn't talk much. When he got started, he concentrated.
Erin settled down with her page of frames, and grabbed a can of markers fanned out in multiple colors, and started drawing, going off of nothing but inspiration.

Soon, her comic took on the role of a ninja, an old-style damsel in distress who wore an old country dress and bore an intricate umbrella with three curly strands of hair on either side of her head, and a hillbilly farmer with one tooth and overalls. She finished drawing the outline of all the characters by the time noon rolled around, and needed to fill in with color when Connor finally set his paintbrush down, and sat back.
For the past three hours, he'd been furiously swishing his paintbrush around in water, squeezing more paint from a tube onto a sheet of paper, dipping the brush in there, and then wiping most of it off again. The paper around him was a mosaic of colors. Green, red, yellow, black, white, and blue mostly.
"You done already?" she asked Connor, surprised.
Connor looked over at her with an observing face. There was a swipe of blue under his chin, and a small, but completely noticeable yellow dot on his cheek, and another one on his lip. He nodded at her. "Yeah, I'm finished." he replied carefully.
His eyes went back to his artwork, and Erin put her marker down. "Great." she announced. "Can I see?" she asked, bracing herself to get up.
Connor surveyed her for a moment, then nodded. "Sure. It's for you anyway." he replied, and scooted his chair backwards.
Erin got up. "What do you mean it's for me?" she asked, walking around to the front of the easel, and her breath caught in her throat.

He'd completed a portrait of her, and it was breathtaking. She was centered in the picture, and everything around her, what looked like windows was blurred somehow. She was settled onto a green backdrop, and her face was angelic. "This is me?" she asked, running a finger just over top of the picture.
Connor nodded. "It is." he replied casually.
Erin cleared her throat. There must have been ten different colors of blue in her eyes, which were focused on something beneath her, and her complexion was flawless. As much as it resembled her, it wasn't her. She had facial blemishes, and her nose was blotchy with freckles, and her eyes weren't that pretty. Her hair wasn't as lustrous, and definitely not as put in place as the portrait made her to be.
She looked at Connor. "But why is everything so perfect?" she asked him, trying to word things just right so it wouldn't seem like she didn't appreciate his artwork.
Connor squinted his eyes a little.
"I mean, that can't be me. My hair is all out of place, and my eyes aren't that pretty, and my face is definitely not that clear." she made excuses.
"Erin." Connor started. "An artist sees things in a very different way than another person does." he replied. "I look at things from a completely different angle than the regular person."
"But I'm not all that regular, according to my counselor anyway, and this looks perfect to me." she said, pointing to the portrait of the beautiful girl that in no way, shape, or form could be her in a million years.
Connor smiled at Erin, looked at his artwork, and back at Erin. "That's because you are perfect to me." he replied, and on the spot, Erin's heart melted.
"I am?" she asked, her voice wavering. Her stomach was doing belly flops, and flip flips and any other flops that it could do as emotions swept over her body.
Connor smiled, and picked up her hand. "Yes, you are."