The One where We First Met

These are our very first pictures together at the Warner's house (my grandparents) watching the April 2004 General Conference. Once upon a time Chris wrote down his version of our story. It's pretty long, but it'll be fun to look back and read years from now:

“As fall semester 2003 came to a close, I was at a crossroads as to where I would spend my next semester. A friend of mine from Colorado, Jeff Kay, and I desperately wanted to move out of the cell-block confines of Deseret Towers (DT) and instead find ourselves an off-campus apartment to live in. The only problem was that both of us had signed up for a full year-long housing contract with BYU and apparently that’s harder to break than a temple sealing. Both of us applied to be released from our contracts, and both of us were denied, leaving us very few options. We could stay in DT or move to a different on-campus location such as Heritage or Helaman Halls. We chose to see what Heritage Halls had to offer.

The last day before Christmas break was a mad dash to tie up all loose ends. Finals. Packing. Meeting my brother Andy. Cleaning. Checking out of DT. Etcetera. Not to mention, Jeff and I had yet to pick a room and basically had nowhere to live come January. We ran down to the Heritage office and asked for an apartment with an open room so we could be roommates. We didn’t know the buildings and didn’t have any friends we wanted to live by, so our room assignment was up to the guy working at the desk. He scanned the list and saw an opening at Penrose Hall #80. Sure. Why not? Little did I know how perfect that arrangement would be...

With that taken care of, I headed home and spent Christmas with my family. I knew I would be leaving on my mission the coming summer and so I had no intention of finding a girlfriend. My plan was to ski, kick it with Jeff, and do good in school.

Eventually Christmas break was over and Andy and I made the drive back to Provo for winter semester 2004. Jeff and I got to our new place around the same time and unloaded all our stuff from his Blazer into our basement bedroom. It wasn’t long before we found the ward directory and wanted to see who was who. We slowly flipped through the pages and scanned all the names and faces. Same thing as DT, just a new ward; generic, smiling faces. As we neared the end of the alphabet and of the directory, my eyes were immediately captured by a picture. “Who is that?” I thought as my eyes read the name. Paige Taylor. Jeff started to turn the page, but I stopped him. “She’s hott,” I casually said. I decided I had to meet this girl.

Not long after moving in a guy came knocking on our door inviting us to choir. “Uh, no thanks. We’re not exactly the choir type,” Jeff responded. “Unless,” I chimed in, “Paige Taylor is in choir. If she’s there, I’ll go.” He said that Paige didn’t go so my would-have-been church choir all-star career was quickly put to rest. No Paige. No choir. That’s that.

I went to the first week of church on a mission: search for this girl and win her over with my amazing looks and charm. To my chagrin, this girl was nowhere to be seen. In-active? Hmmm…well there’s always next week.

As the next week progressed, classes started and I went about my business. Sleep, eat, class, repeat. The came Thursday, my first Art History 201 class. I found my way to the lower level of the Museum of Art (MOA) into the auditorium and directly to the back row of seats. During the monotonous drone of art history and “what nots” of our professor, I noticed a girl sitting near me. “She’s hott,” I thought. I had to meet this girl. I walked home after class and talked to Jeff. “There’s this girl in my art history class.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah. I didn’t get to talk to her, but we’ll see what I can do next week.” My plan? Win her over with my amazing looks and charm.

Next Sunday I went on a mission once again. But once again, Paige Taylor was nowhere to be seen. This called for a more concerted effort on my part. Apparently I couldn’t just hope to run into this girl, I had to make it happen. So I thought up another plan. We would find any of the girls in Paige’s apartment, A. Richards #102, and get ourselves invited over for dinner. Jeff and I called up A. Richards #102 and talked to some random roommate and got ourselves successfully invited over for next Sunday dinner.

Another week of class came, as did another Thursday afternoon of art history. I deliberately sat in the same place as the previous week, hoping that the girl I had noticed would do the same. I sat, listening to my cd player, and waited. Just as I had hoped for, this girl sat in the same area once again, just one seat away from me. The only problem was that some other girl had beaten her to class and sat next to me, acting like some human shield between me and (insert girl’s name here). This middle girl invited both myself and (insert girl’s name here) to be in a study group and passed a paper to (insert girl’s name here) to write her name and number then passed the paper to me. As I wrote down my info I glanced up to the handwriting of (insert girl’s name here) and read the name. Paige. It took a few minutes to register. Paige. That girl is in my ward directory is a Paige. This girl is a Paige. Holy crap! I think it’s the same Paige! How lucky can a guy get? You move into a new ward, find a girl you really want to meet and win over with your amazing looks and charm, and it just so happens that she is in your art history class as well?

I mulled that over in my head as I walked back to Penrose from the MOA and entered my apartment and walked into my bedroom. Jeff was sitting there listening to music on my computer. “What up dude?” he said. “You know that Paige Taylor chick in our ward I’ve been trying to meet?” I asked. “Yeah.” “Remember that hott girl in my art history class I told you about?” “Yeah…” “They’re the same girl!” I said.

As Sunday rolled around, so did our dinner appointment with A. Richards #102. I was pretty excited to finally meet Paige. Jeff and I, accompanied by Cory, Eli and Michael, walked across the walkway to A. Richards #102 Sunday afternoon. Everyone else just wanted good food and to make some new friends. But I had my ulterior motive. “Hey guys, c’mon in!” said a roommate. Introductions were made and I did a quick head count. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…what the heck? One was missing. The only reason I even got ourselves invited to this place was MIA! “Are there only five of you in this place?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “No, there is one more, Paige, but she’s sick so she’s at her grandparents.”

This had to be a joke. Would I ever meet this girl? It was too late to escape the dinner now so I stayed and ate with everyone else. I didn’t talk much. Just sat and observed. Behind me on the kitchen wall were two big pieces of white butcher paper with random quotes and comments written on it by the girls. One comment in particular caught my eye. “I need a hott boyfriend!,” signed by Paige Taylor. Too good of an opportunity to pass up, I grabbed a marker and wrote: Chris Evans is hott! next to Paige’s comment, then we all headed back to Penrose.

The school week was fine. I spent Monday through Wednesday counting down the time until Thursday and art history. Finally, Thursday rolled around. I threw on my signature jeans, Chucks, a white long-sleeved shirt with a grey t-shirt over it, a hat and my black GAP vest since it was a fairly chilly day. I crossed from Heritage over to the MOA, listening to Anti-Flag on my cd player and found my way down to the auditorium. I went directly to the same spot for the third week in a row, hoping that Paige would do the same. I sat, waited, and listened to my music. Suddenly, there she was.

She entered the room wearing a red fleece (Marmot) jacket, a red FBI beanie, a red back pack (what’s with all the red?) jeans, and she had headphones in her ears. I watched her walk up the steps directly towards where I was sitting. Holy crap! My plan was working! She continued up the steps to the back row, my row, and she sat one seat away from me. “Okay,” I thought, “here’s the plan: win her over with my amazing looks and…” “What are you listening to?” Holy crap. Hooooly crap. Did she just talk to me? This is too good to be true! But what did she say? I couldn’t quite hear her. “What?” I asked. “What are you listening to?” She asked once more, slightly less sure of herself. What did she say? Dang headphones are so loud. Where’s the button to turn this thing off!? “What?” I asked again. I could see she was kind of losing her nerve, but thankfully she asked once more. “What are you listening to?” “Oh.” Finally it registered, “Anti-Flag.” Blank look from her. Keep the conversation moving… “What about you?” “Rage Against the Machine.” Whoa! Hold on. Stop everything. Did she just say Rage Against the Machine? That is my all-time favorite band and this girl is listening to it? No way!

I was finally successful. I finally met Paige on January 22nd 2004. And the rest is art history, I mean, history.