Fic: A Proper Date (Chad/Ryan)

[poisonivory]

Title: A Proper Date
Fandom: High School Musical (Chad/Ryan)
Summary: Chad finally takes Taylor out on that date. Things don't go exactly as planned.
Notes: This was supposed to be a lot shorter than it is. Also, Chad is hard to write. *shakes tiny fist*



“Tall caramel macchiato, extra syrup!”

“Thanks,” Chad told the barrista, slipping a cardboard holder over the paper cup. He grabbed the sugar off of the condiment table, turned towards his friends, and paused. Ryan was regaling Gabriella and Taylor with some story about Fulton’s tie getting caught on fire - Chad could tell, as he’d heard the story before and seen the frantic hand gestures that accompanied it - and all three were laughing.

There was no reason he should feel like doom hung over the table. And yet…

He walked over to the table just in time to hear Ryan say “…there’s no water, so Xavier grabs the pot of pea soup…” As Taylor and Gabriella burst into a fresh round of giggles, Ryan pushed the chair between him and Taylor out with a foot. “Hey, man.”

“Hey.” Chad put his drink and the sugar down in front of the space Ryan had cleared for him, but he didn’t sit down. “Uh, Taylor? Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure.” Taylor stood up, but there really wasn’t anywhere they could go - the café was too crowded. They settled for standing about a foot away from the table, while Ryan and Gabriella tried to pretend they weren’t listening.

Chad took a deep breath. Okay. He’d put this off long enough. First it had been: he’d ask her out after they won the championship. Then it had been: he’d ask her out when he got a car. Now he had the championship, he had the car, and he still hadn’t managed to ask Taylor out on an actual date. The other guys on the team were starting to laugh at him. It was time.

“I, uh, was wondering if you’d like to do something this Saturday night,” he said quickly. “You know, with me. Uh. Just me.”

“You mean…like a date?”

“Um.” Chad ducked his head, knowing it did nothing to hide his flushing cheeks. “Yeah, pretty much.”

He risked a glance at Taylor. She looked surprised. Not pleased-surprised, like she’d looked when he’d asked her to the party after the big game last year, but not bad-surprised. Just…surprised.

“Sure,” she said finally. Then she smiled. “Where are we going?”

“Uh.” Chad hadn’t planned ahead that far. “Uh.”

Ryan cleared his throat. He and Gabriella had given up all pretense of not listening. “Chad, didn’t you tell me you were planning on taking Taylor to Chez Paris?”

Chad looked blankly at him, and Ryan raised his eyebrows significantly. “Oh! Right! Chez Paris!” he said, shooting Ryan a look of gratitude. “Yeah, I, uh…couldn’t remember if I’d decided on Chez Paris or Chez Pierre. But yes. Chez Paris. Uh, if that’s okay with you,” he added quickly.

“Chez Paris sounds great,” Taylor said, beaming at him. “I love French food.”

“Oh, me…me too,” Chad agreed.

“Seven o’ clock? You’ll pick me up?” Taylor continued.

“Sure,” Chad said weakly. He felt as though he might have lost control of the situation somewhere along the line.

“Fantastic,” Taylor said. She reached out and squeezed his arm a little. Her hand was warm and soft, and Chad smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

They rejoined Ryan and Gabriella at the table, and Chad took the lid off of his macchiato and started pouring sugar in.

“Didn’t you get a caramel macchiato? With extra caramel syrup?” Gabriella asked, looking a little horrified.

“Yeah,” Chad said, stirring his drink. He tasted it, made a face, and added more sugar.

“Why do you drink coffee if you don’t like the taste?” Ryan asked.

“I do like it!” Chad insisted. He didn’t really, but…all of his friends drank coffee. He didn’t want to be the odd man out.

Ryan shrugged and sipped his espresso. Chad didn’t know anyone else who drank espresso except for Jason’s grandfather, who was about a thousand years old and spoke mostly Italian. But then, Ryan was pretty much unlike everyone Chad knew.

“Wait, so Ryan, what happened with Fulton’s tie?” Gabriella asked. Ryan resumed his story, his elbows and knees bumping against Chad as he gestured, and Chad smiled. This was good. Before the summer it would have felt weird without Troy, but Gabi had turned out to be much more fun than he would have guessed six months ago, and obviously Taylor was fun to be around, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked her out, and Ryan…Ryan fit into Chad’s world like he belonged there, which was weird, considering all the energy Chad used to put into hating him.

So now, with the sunlight streaming through the window, his friends laughing around him, and the prospect of mercifully little homework that evening, Chad was content. Even if he didn’t like coffee. Even if he still felt kind of jittery about the upcoming date. At the moment, neither of those things really seemed to matter.

Yeah. This was good.

This was not good.

“Chez Paris!” Chad exploded as Ryan turned the corner. It was the next morning, and Chad had gotten to school early, an unheard-of occurrence, and staked out Ryan’s locker. “Are you crazy?”

“Good morning to you too, Chad,” Ryan said dryly. “Did you sleep well?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I did not!” Chad snapped. “I was too busy wondering how on Earth I’m gonna afford to take Taylor to Chez Paris. What do you think your parents paid me this summer? My weight in diamonds?”

Ryan swung his locker open and checked the angle of his hat in the mirror. “Relax, Chad. Do you think I would’ve suggested it without thinking it through? The owner’s a friend of my dad’s. I’ll call and leave your name at the maitre d’s. This date won’t cost you a thing besides gas money.”

“…Oh.” Chad paused. “Um…thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Sorry I yelled at you.”

“Forget it. You’re just nervous. But you shouldn’t be.” Ryan took his chemistry textbook out of his locker, checked the mirror one more time, and closed the door. “You’ll do fine. Just, uh, word of advice? Don’t order the escargot. It’s…”

“…snails, I know,” Chad interrupted. “I’m not completely ignorant.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean - “ Ryan said quickly, but Chad grinned and punched him in the arm, not hard.

“I know you didn’t.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Look, man, I am sorry I blew up at you,” he said as they headed down to the science wing. “I guess you’re right - I’m nervous. But, like, that’s dumb, right? It’s just that…”

“…like you’ve put it off so long that it’s like this huge thing?” Ryan finished.

“Right,” Chad said, relieved that Ryan had put it into words for him. “And like after all this time she’s expecting, like…I don’t know. Like she’ll find out I’m not worth the wait.”

“Now you’re just talking stupid,” Ryan said. “You’re a great guy. Who wouldn’t - I mean, you really like her, right?” Maybe it was the lighting as they turned into the science wing, but Chad thought Ryan looked a little pink.

Chad thought about it. Taylor was funny, and nice, and crazy smart. He liked hanging out with her. And everyone agreed that she was wicked hot, for a nerd.

“Yeah,” he said. His head hurt, suddenly. “Yeah, I do.”

Ryan smiled, but it seemed a little strained. “Then you’ll do great.” He reached out and squeezed Chad’s arm a little. Then the bell rand, and with a wave, he ducked into the chemistry classroom. Chad stood there for a minute, jostled by the kids trying to get into the biology classroom behind him, wondering why his chest felt so oddly tight.

It was official. Chad hated ties. More than Brussels sprouts, more than Michael Crawford, more than Sharpay Evans’s voice at its highest and most excitable pitch. And he really hated all of those things.

Still, a tie he was wearing. Or attempting to wear. He wasn’t sure he’d tied it right. Usually his mom did that, a secret he planned to carry to the grave. Unfortunately, both of his parents were at some dinner party at his Aunt Carol’s house, and Chad was left with a wrinkly piece of silk and only forty-five minutes before he had to leave to pick up Taylor.

Desperate, Chad grabbed his parents’ wedding portrait off of the mantelpiece and ran to the bathroom. Holding the picture next to him, he compared the knot on his father’s tie to the one around his neck. No, he definitely hadn’t done it right.

This was a problem. Taylor was a classy kind of girl. He couldn’t just show up on her doorstep looking like he’d tried to strangle himself (and badly at that).

He really, really didn’t want to let anyone else in on the tie situation, but as far as he could see, he didn’t so much have a choice. With a sigh that sent the curls over his eyes flying, he reached for the phone.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your big date?” was Troy’s greeting when he answered the phone.

“Har har,” Chad said. “I’m trying. I’ve got…a problem.”

“Knowing you, I’d say Taylor’s the one with the problem,” Troy replied. A tinkling little laugh over the phone told Chad that Gabriella was with Troy.

“Dude. Chill with the jokes, okay?”

“Sorry, man. What’s up?”

Chad screwed up his face. “I…cntuhmuhtuh.”

“What?”

“I can’t tie my tie,” Chad said more clearly, shooting a death glare at the offending garment.

There was a thump and then silence on the other end, and Chad thought for a minute that he’d lost the signal. “Hello? Troy?”

“Uh, sorry, man, I, uh, dropped the phone.” Troy was obviously trying to stop laughing. And failing.

“Some friend,” Chad muttered. “Look, are you gonna help me or not?”

“Sorry,” Troy said again, still with a bit of a giggle in his voice. “Thing is, I’m with Gabi and…”

“Yeah, I got it,” Chad said. If he had a girlfriend like Gabriella, he sure as hell wouldn’t go running off to tie Troy’s tie. “I’ll just…”

“Hang on.” There was some muffled talking on the other end, then Troy came back on. “Gabi thinks you should call Ryan.”

“Evans?”

“Do we know any other Ryans?”

“Troy, I don’t know…”

“Hey, he definitely knows how to dress up,” Troy pointed out.

“Well, yeah, duh. Guy’s like, a kajillionaire. But…”

“Please, he’s seen you try to dance. You can’t possibly embarrass yourself more in front of him.”

“Thanks. No, it’s just…he lives way the hell over on the other side of town. He’s not gonna want to come over here and fix my wardrobe malfunction.”

“He’ll come,” Gabi called into the phone, and Chad remembered: when you talk to Troy, you talk to Gabriella. He sighed again.

“Fine. I’ll call him.”

“All right,” Troy said, sounding a little distracted. “Let me know how it goes, dude.”

“With Ryan?”

“With Taylor.” Troy laughed again. “Man, you are so lost. Bye!”

Chad shot his phone a glare almost as fierce as the one he had given his tie. “Thanks for nothing, pal.” He sighed, then scrolled down to Ryan’s number. He couldn’t remember when he’d put it in his phone. Cursing Troy, neckties, and the universe in general one last time, he pressed Send.

Ryan answered after the second ring. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” Did everyone have to answer the phone like that?

“Not for another hour, thank God,” Chad replied.

“’Thank God’? You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

Chad took a breath. Somehow this was less embarrassing than it had been when he’d called Troy; on the other hand, he didn’t want Ryan to think he was stupid (Troy already knew). “I can’t tie my tie.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Ryan?” Chad hoped Ryan wasn’t laughing at him too.

Finally Ryan spoke. He didn’t sound like he’d been laughing; in fact, he sounded almost…fond. “Windsor or half-Windsor?” he asked.

“Huh?” No one had ever accused Chad Danforth of eloquence.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Wait, you don’t - “ Chad started to say, but Ryan had already hung up. He sighed, tossed his phone onto his unmade bed, and glanced at the clock. It would take Ryan at least twenty minutes to get over to Chad’s house from his significantly-nicer neighborhood, which would give Chad five more minutes before he had to leave to pick up Taylor. Enough time to tie a tie - and, Chad hoped, talk him down.

Because that was what he was hoping Ryan would do, Chad realized. Talk him down from this feeling of impending doom. Ryan had a way of doing that, of making Chad feel like he could do things he’d never thought he could do, like dance, or take a girl to a fancy restaurant without it ending in disaster. Around Ryan, he never felt stupid or like he was just that guy with the hair and the funny t-shirts who hung out with Troy Bolton.

Ryan never made him feel like second best.

Gah, his room was a mess. Chad had never been in Ryan’s room, but he assumed it was huge and always impeccably clean, with lots of designer furniture and coordinating colors and window treatments, whatever those were. Chad’s room, meanwhile, was tiny, with a sloping ceiling because it was crammed in under the stairs, and the only attempt at decoration was the dozen posters of his favorite athletes peeling off of the faded walls. And right now everything was buried under two feet of clothes, since Chad had tried on pretty much everything that was reasonably clean in the past thirty minutes.

Well, he could at least pick up all the clothing, especially the dirty stuff. Underwear first, he decided, and set to work.

Much sooner than he expected, the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock; it had only been ten minutes since he’d hung up with Ryan. Still, when he opened the door, there Ryan stood, cap jauntily cocked and smile sharp and warm.

“What, did you fly over here?” Chad asked.

Ryan shrugged. “I may have exceeded the speed limit at times. Hey, you needed help.”

“It wasn’t, like, an emergency,” Chad protested, stepping aside to let Ryan in.

“Clothing is always an emergency,” Ryan replied. Chad couldn’t quite tell if he was kidding or not. “So. Let me see.” He stepped back and surveyed Chad’s still-tieless ensemble. Chad tried not to blush.

“Not bad,” Ryan said finally. “Nice pants, good cut, good length, and they hit your shoes with a nice break.”

“Um, thanks,” Chad said, completely bewildered by what Ryan had just said but pretty sure it was a compliment. “My dad helped me pick them out for my cousin’s wedding.” God, he sounded stupid.

“He’s got a good eye,” Ryan said idly. He was still scrutinizing Chad. “I don’t know about the blue shirt, though,” he said finally. “It’s okay, but…”

Chad looked down at himself. After trying it on and taking it off three times, he’d eventually concluded that the blue was the best out of the shirts strewn across the floor of his room. Anyway, Troy always wore blue, and he always looked good.

“I have…other shirts,” Chad said, and then mentally kicked himself. Of course he had other shirts. Ryan had seen him in other shirts.

“Well, then, lead on,” Ryan said, with a sweeping hand gesture, and followed Chad to his room.

And there they were, crammed together in Chad’s tiny bedroom, stepping on the clothing Chad hadn’t gotten a chance to pick up, Chad crouching a little since he was standing in the part of the room where the ceiling sloped down. His hands were suddenly sweaty, but Ryan didn’t run out screaming at Chad’s blatant defiance of the principles of feng shui.

Instead he said “Cool poster. Bagwell’s awesome.”

Chad grinned and relaxed. This was just Ryan. His friend, weird as that concept was. He didn’t have to be so jumpy. “Yeah. I’ve got a signed ball of his in the den.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime.” He didn’t say it like he was blowing Chad off, like ‘Oh, my private pitching machine is filled exclusively with baseballs signed by Major Leaguers.’ He really did want to see the ball. “But tonight: business.”

Ryan started burrowing through the piles of clothes on the floor, the bed, the desk chair. “Good lord, how many t-shirts do you have?”

“How many hats do you have?” Chad replied. Tonight’s was one of those conductor’s-type hats, in a deep cranberry that made Ryan’s skin look translucent, like he was lit from within.

“Touché.” Ryan tossed a couple of shirts at Chad. “These are maybes. I’ll have to see what kind of ties you have, too.”

Those, at least, were all in one place. “Knock yourself out,” Chad said, and handed Ryan the shoebox where he kept his ties.

Ryan looked faint for a moment. “A shoebox. God save us all,” he muttered. “Okay, I’m buying you a tie rack for your birthday.”

“Oh, joy,” Chad drawled sarcastically. Ryan gave him a quick grin, a flash of sunlight before he turned back to the shoebox, and Chad’s palms were suddenly sweaty again.

He cleared his throat. “There’s a few things in my closet, too,” he added.

“No kidding,” Ryan muttered. At least, that’s what it sounded like. Maybe he hadn’t said anything.

Chad pushed a pile of his schoolbooks out of Ryan’s way and opened his closet door wider. A scant handful of items dangled forlornly on hangers; Chad wasn’t the type to hang things up very conscientiously, and what had been hung up had almost all been taken down earlier that evening. He didn’t have much hope for what was left in there.

Apparently Ryan thought differently, because his eyes lit up and he snatched a shirt out of the closet. As he brought it closer to the lamp to get a good look at it, Chad recognized it as a shirt his mother had bought him a few months ago that he’d never worn. It was white, with alternating pinstripes of lime green and silver thread. Chad knew there was no way he could pull it off.

Ryan, it seemed, disagreed. He grabbed a tie in a slightly darker shade of green out of the shoebox, and held the shirt and the tie up in front of Chad. “Perfect!” he announced. “Take off that shirt. This is your outfit, right here.”

Chad looked at the silver and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Do I come out onto the court and tell you how to play basketball?” Ryan asked. “Green is intensely your color. Now put this on.”

“Okay, okay.” Chad started to unbutton his shirt, acutely aware of the fact that Ryan was right there, watching him.

Chad knew that Ryan was gay. He might not have been the most perceptive guy in the world, but he’d have to be blind, deaf, and dead not to know that Ryan was gay. It wasn’t like it was a big deal, though. Ryan Is Gay was way down on the list of things Chad thought of when he thought of Ryan, somewhere after Ryan Is Fun, Ryan Is A Great Baseball Player, and Ryan Has A Completely Psychotic Sister. And even standing in Chad’s too-warm, too-small room while Chad took his shirt off, Chad highly doubted that Ryan was going to be driven so mad with desire by Chad’s reckless shirtlessness that he, like, attacked Chad lips-first.

Still, Chad fumbled with the buttons.

There. The shirt was off. He took the striped shirt from Ryan. Their fingers brushed, and Ryan jerked back as if he’d been scalded. Chad wanted to see Ryan’s expression, but he couldn’t bear to look up, couldn’t muster up the courage to meet Ryan’s eyes while standing there half-naked.

Chad buttoned up the new shirt and tucked it in. He knew he should unbutton his pants so as to tuck the shirt in properly, but there was no way in hell he was doing that now. Ryan didn’t protest, although Chad had a feeling his sloppy shirt-tucking was killing some tiny starch-loving part of Ryan’s soul.

Fully clothed again, Chad could look at Ryan, who was almost as red as his hat. “Much better,” Ryan said, and Chad wasn’t sure if he meant the shirt or the being-dressed. “Now for the tie.”

Chad flipped his collar up, and Ryan strung the tie around Chad’s neck and started to tie it. He was just a little bit shorter than Chad, probably less than an inch, and Chad could see Ryan’s gray-green eyes through his pale, pale eyelashes, could smell his shampoo. The shirt wasn’t thick enough to keep Chad from feeling Ryan’s knuckles brushing against his chest as he adjusted the length of each side of the tie, and then Ryan’s deft, pale fingers were wrapping the wide end of the tie around once, twice, pulling through, and suddenly the skinny piece of silk that had defeated Chad all evening was dead-center perfect against his throat.

Ryan wasn’t finished, though. He straightened Chad’s collar, his fingertips hot against Chad’s neck, the back of his hands brushing Chad’s jaw; then he adjusted the drape of the shirt at Chad’s waist, smoothed the shoulders, buttoned a stray cuff. Chad let him, waiting, watching to see what he’d do next.

Finally one of those quick, birdlike hands flickered up to thumb a stray curl off of Chad’s forehead and - Chad couldn’t help it - his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned into the touch, just the tiniest bit. He could hear Ryan’s breathing, louder than usual and slightly ragged, as if he’d been running. He wondered if Ryan was going to kiss him, and what Ryan would taste like.

“You’d better go.”

Chad opened his eyes. Ryan had stepped back, was looking at his watch. “You’re going to be late to pick up Taylor.”

“Oh.” His voice came out like a ghost of itself. He cleared his throat, tried again. “Oh. Yeah. Um, well…thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Chad couldn’t see Ryan’s eyes; the hat was suddenly shading them. He wondered for the first time if that was why Ryan wore hats all the time. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Yeah. Friends,” Chad said inanely. “I’ll, uh…I’ll see you in school on Monday.”

“Sure.” Ryan smiled, but with his eyes shaded it just seemed flat. “Have fun.”

And then he was gone.

“This is really nice, Chad.”

Chad looked up from his plate to see Taylor smiling at him across the table. He tried to swallow quickly so that he could respond, although what was he supposed to say to a comment like that? “Thanks”? “Yeah, I know”?

“I’m glad you like it,” he finally said when he’d gotten his mouthful down. “How’s your food?”

“Still good,” Taylor said a little wryly, and Chad realized it was the third time he’d asked her that. Oops.

He tapped his fork idly against his plate. “Uh. Oh, hey, did you see that thing on Mr. Hennessey’s nose in Spanish?”

Taylor made a face. “Yeah. What is that?”

“No one knows,” Chad said.

“It’s pretty gross.”

“Yeah. Ryan said it looked like the love child of roadkill and moldy grape jelly.”

“Wow.” Taylor blinked. “That’s…disgusting. And scarily accurate.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Funny.”

“…Yeah.”

The conversation, such as it was, trailed off. Chad looked down at his food again, the thing on Mr. Hennessey’s nose still on his mind. Well, great. Now he had no appetite.

This was not going as well as he might have hoped. The restaurant was nice, Taylor looked great, and so far he hadn’t managed to spill anything on himself, but they’d exhausted every topic of conversation before they’d even placed their orders. They’d talked about school, about which Chad had nothing to say, and about sports, about which Taylor had nothing to say. They’d talked about the looming specter of college, but aside from comparing first choices and listing where else they were planning to apply (Taylor had finished her applications already; Chad had a pile of unopened mail from colleges sitting somewhere under all the clothing on his floor), there was nothing to discuss until they heard back in the spring. Taylor had told Chad a story about her crazy sister. Chad had told Taylor something funny Ryan had said at lunch the other day.

The truth was, they’d never been alone for more than five minutes at a time before this, and it was beginning to look like that had been a good idea.

Well, at least the food was good.

“You know, Ryan told me that this place makes great crème brulee,” Chad said. “I don’t know if it’s as good as Zeke’s, but…”

“You are Ryan are close these days, right?” Taylor interrupted.

Close. Close like feeling Ryan’s exhalations on his cheek. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s just…you’ve brought him up about half a dozen times already tonight,” Taylor said. “He’s like your new BFF. Does Troy know?” She batted her eyes.

Chad laughed. “Nah, it’s not like that. Ryan and I are just…you know. Buds.”

“You know, I was surprised you asked me out tonight,” Taylor said, changing the subject in that dizzying way girls had.

“Really?” Chad picked up his glass. “How come?”

Taylor’s gaze was steady. “I was pretty sure you were gay.”

Chad choked on his soda.

Taylor waited patiently while he coughed half a liter of Diet Coke out of his lungs. “Wh-why would you think that?” he spluttered when he could finally breathe again.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. You were always so tight with Troy, and now you’re always hanging around Ryan, and he’s obviously completely in love with you…”

He didn’t have any soda to choke on this time, but his lungs still tried to throttle him. “What?”

Now Taylor looked genuinely startled. “You didn’t know?” she asked, hands over her mouth. “Oh my God, I just assumed that…”

“There’s nothing to assume!” Chad told her. “He is not in love with me!”

Taylor clearly disagreed, but didn’t want to say so. “Well, maybe not,” she said. “I just…hey, you know, maybe I’m totally off about all of this. I just…figured.”

“Well, stop ‘figuring’,” Chad said sulkily. “I’m not…and he’s not…it’s just…” He scowled. “We’re just friends.”

Taylor nodded. And that was it for conversation for the rest of dinner. Spoken conversation, that was. Because even though neither of them said anything, Taylor’s voice kept echoing in Chad’s mind.

I was pretty sure you were gay.

He’s completely in love with you.

And Ryan’s voice, in the hallway that day. You’re a great guy. Who wouldn’t -

Who wouldn’t what?

He’s completely in love with you.

As Ryan had promised, dinner was free, but Chad left a fairly generous tip on the table before they headed out. He drove Taylor home in the same awkward, uncomfortable silence that had concluded their meal.

God, he hated this. He was pretty sure after this date that he didn’t want to pursue anything further with Taylor, but he wanted to stay friends with her.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Taylor turn to look at him. “Sorry about what?” she asked.

“I kind of blew up at you in the restaurant there. That wasn’t fair. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It really wasn’t any of my business…”

“Sure it was,” Chad said. “You have a right to know if the guy you’re on a date with is, uh…playing for the other team.”

“God, you are such a jock,” Taylor said, laughing. “Okay. Apology accepted. And…I’m sorry, too.”

“Don’t be,” Chad said, staring out at the road ahead of him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t mean to mess up your friendship with Ryan…”

“You didn’t.” Chad frowned.

“Are you going to say anything to - “

“I don’t know yet.”

They reached Taylor’s house. Chad pulled up in front of it, climbed out of the car, and walked around to open Taylor’s door. She smiled.

“Such a gentleman.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chad said, tipping an invisible hat. He walked her to her front door.

They stood there awkwardly under the porch light for a moment, both knowing that he wasn’t going to try to kiss her good night. Finally Taylor reached out and straightened Chad’s tie a bit. She was standing as close as Ryan had, but he didn’t feel anything close to the heady rush he’d felt before.

I was pretty sure you were gay.

“I’m glad we’re friends, Chad,” Taylor said. “No matter what, I’m glad of that.” She reached up and kissed his cheek, then walked into the house without a backwards glance.

Chad walked back to his car on autopilot, turned it on, and drove. He wasn’t driving anywhere in particular. He was just driving.

Or maybe he did have a particular destination in mind, because the hedges started to get higher and the houses started to get bigger, and suddenly he realized he was on Ryan’s street.

He didn’t know exactly which number house Ryan’s was, but he’d been there once before, for the twins’ twelfth birthday party. Their parents had made them invite everyone in their class; Chad’s parents had made him go. Chad saw a house that looked familiar about where he thought it should be, and when he got closer he could see that it said “Evans” on the mailbox.

He drove up the long, curving driveway to the front door and climbed out of his car, hoping no one from the phalanx of servants would tow it while he was parked. With a jittery sigh, he rang the doorbell. He still didn’t know exactly what he was planning to say to Ryan, but he figured he would work it out while the butler or the grand duke or whoever was showing him to whatever wing it was Ryan lived in.

So of course Ryan opened the door.

He looked slightly rumpled, like he’d been sitting on the couch watching reality television and eating potato chips before Chad rang the doorbell, even though Chad couldn’t really imagine Ryan doing that, especially not on a Saturday night. His hat was gone and his blond hair was kind of flat, deflated. Chad couldn’t believe his eyes: Ryan Evans had hat hair.

“Chad!” Ryan said unnecessarily, and Chad was startled again. He was often thrown enough by Ryan to respond with stupid monosyllables, but he’d never seen Ryan similarly at a loss.

Ryan recovered fast, though. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” he asked for the second time that night.

Chad shrugged. “Date’s over,” he said.

Ryan checked his watch. “A little early, isn’t it?”

“Taylor thinks I’m gay.”

Without the hat, Chad could see Ryan’s eyes clearly. Right now they were two perfect stunned circles, those soft lashes a series of exclamation points on Ryan’s surprise.

“Can I come in?” Chad asked.

Ryan flushed. “Sure,” he said, stepping aside. “Sorry, I…that was rude of me. Come on in.”

Chad followed Ryan through the - well, the only word Chad had for it was lobby, which he’d never seen in a house before - to the palatial living room. Some musical was paused on the DVD, Judy Garland frozen in a high note, and sure enough, there was a bowl of chips on the coffee table.

“Can I get you a soda?” Ryan asked.

“No, thanks,” Chad replied. “Where’s your sister?”

Ryan looked confused, which Chad understood; he usually didn’t ask about Sharpay. “She’s at this party…”

“Why aren’t you?” Chad asked. “I mean, you don’t strike me as the type to stay in on Saturday nights.”

Now Ryan just looked uncomfortable. “I…”

“I guess I was kind of frantic before or I would have wondered why you were able to drop everything and come zooming over to my place when I called. At warp speed, too.”

“Well, you know…”

“And there was that thing where you set up a free meal for me and my date at the ritziest restaurant in town.”

“I told you, that was no big…”

“Why are you doing this, Ryan?”

Ryan froze. Chad could see the gears in his head whirling, trying to figure out how to answer this. “You’re my friend.” He licked his lips, his tongue pink against that bow of a mouth; Chad wondered when he’d gotten close enough to see it so clearly.

“No,” Chad said seriously, shaking his head. “No, we’re not friends. Or at least we’re not just friends.” He could see the different colors in Ryan’s eyes, blue and green and brown, and he wondered why Ryan ever wore a hat, why he’d hide that dizzying kaleidoscope beneath a cardboard-lined brim. “Troy and me, we’re friends. Taylor and me, it turns out we’re friends too. You and me…” He took a step forward, close enough that his sneakers bumped Ryan’s sock-clad toes. “We’re something else.”

And then he kissed him.

Chad had kissed girls in the past; less than he might admit to the guys on the team, but a respectable amount. It had always been…well, nice. Nothing earth-shattering, nothing terrible, just…nice.

This was different.

After a second or two where Ryan just stood there and Chad’s heart stopped in panic - oh God what am I doing maybe Taylor was wrong maybe I was wrong please don’t let him sic the dogs on me - Ryan made the softest, smallest noise, barely more than a breath. And then he was kissing Chad back, those perfect lips opening, his hands in Chad’s hair, his tongue sweeping into Chad’s mouth with the taste of Pringles and Coke. Chad’s hands were on Ryan’s back, his hips, and Ryan’s muscles flexed lithe and responsive against him.

Chad wasn’t sure how long they stood there. Seconds, years, he didn’t care. Eventually, though, they drifted apart.

Ryan looked up at him. “Whoa,” he said. His voice was raspy and his mouth was red, and Chad thought those two things together might actually kill him.

“Yeah,” he managed, just as shakily.

“So, um…” Ryan searched Chad’s eyes. “That was interesting.”

Chad raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Ryan relented. “Okay. That was…awesome, wonderful, fantastic, hot, considerably better than a root canal…”

Chad laughed. His hands were still on Ryan’s hips, but he didn’t want to move them, and Ryan didn’t seem to mind, so he kept them there. He wanted to keep them there forever.

“So…” Ryan cocked his head. “I guess this would be a good time to tell you that I have this giant crush on you?”

“Yeah, I sort of figured that part out,” Chad said. “Well. Taylor helped.”

“Remind me to send her flowers,” Ryan said. “Possibly all of them. In the world.” He paused. “Unless that would be incredibly tactless.”

Chad shrugged. “She didn’t seem that disappointed. I think she probably had me pegged a long time ago. Or…close to it.” He let go of Ryan. “Look, I don’t know if I’m…if I’m gay or bi or whatever. I haven’t been really thinking about it that long, and I just…I don’t want you to expect that I’m…going to know what to do or not be totally stupid all the time about everything, because I just…”

“Hey.” Ryan touched Chad’s face, and Chad couldn’t help but lean into it. “No pressure here. You take all the time you need, and whatever you decide, it’s cool. I mean, if you want to take a break from this - “ he gestured to the two of them “ - while you figure this out…”

“Oh, hell no,” Chad said, and kissed him again. This time it was even better than before, maybe because Ryan was laughing coming into it.

“No,” Chad said again when they broke apart. “This is good. Whatever happens, being with you…is good.”

Ryan beamed at him, a megawatt smile even brighter than his best stage face. “That does it,” he said. “I’m buying Taylor the Botanic Garden.”

“Yeah, she’s gonna have to wait on that,” Chad said, pulling Ryan towards the couch. “I’ve got a lot of learning to do, and as my tutor, you are going to be very busy for at least the next few hours.”

Ryan grinned, and kissed him swiftly. “Works for me,” he said.

It worked for Chad, too.