Fic: Five Encounters Between Chad and Ryan at Starbucks
Title: Five Encounters Between Chad and Ryan at Starbucks
Rating/Warnings: None
Notes: For svz-insanity from this meme. This one kind of got away from me: 2,850 words. I hope some of them are coherent.
5.
Ryan breezed into his usual Starbucks and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. There was a line. Not that it was a huge shock -- it was often overrun with tourists -- but usually his late morning schedule brought him in during a lull. Oh, well. He shifted his bag into a more comfortable spot on his shoulder, checked his iPod for the time, and waited. He had to get to class on time or his instructor would kill him, but then again, if he didn't have some coffee in his system he'd be totally off his game and get in trouble anyway.
When he got up to the counter, the barista -- a freckled redhead who worked every weekday morning and knew Ryan on sight -- gave him a slight shrug. "Sorry, we're backed up a little. Training a new guy on the bar." She paused. "He's cute, though."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She giggled. "So that's a red eye?"
"You know me so well." He flashed her a smile, dropped two bucks in the tip jar, and handed over his card to pay for the drink.
She ran it, then turned around and called, "Hey, Chad, you know what a red eye is?"
Ryan peered past her curiously, and…"Chad Danforth?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and Chad looked over and caught him gaping, mouth hanging open, before he had a chance to recover.
"Holy crap, Evans? Oh my god!"
Apparently, Chad still had a smile that lit up an entire room.
"You two know each other?"
"We went to high school together," Ryan explained, and hurried over to the bar where he could talk to -- and, okay, see -- Chad better.
"Small world," Chad laughed. "Small city. Eight million people, but of all the Starbucks on all the cross streets, you had to walk into mine…"
Ryan laughed. "No kidding. What are you doing here?"
He meant in a why-are-you-working-at-Starbucks-in-New-York-and-not-playing-basketball-in-Albuquerque sense, not literally, but Chad answered, "Learning what's in a red eye, apparently. That's espresso in coffee, right?"
Ryan leaned on the bar and nodded. "I kind of developed a caffeine problem," he confessed, then, "Man, it's been forever. I don't think I've seen you since freshman year!"
Actually, he was sure; it had been Troy's Christmas party, between semesters when they were freshmen. After that, Ryan hadn't come home so often, and had basically drifted out of touch with most of the Wildcats. Chad included.
"Yeah, I've been floating around," Chad said vaguely, then began to pull the shot. He was really intent on it, obviously very new to doing it and determined to get it right. He finished, poured it into a cup of coffee, and presented it to Ryan with a proud smile.
Ryan downed a gulp. It was scorching hot, but that was what he preferred. "Delicious," he purred.
"Glad you like it." Chad glanced over at the cashier, then said, "You come in here often?"
"Like, three times a day,"
"Then I'll probably see you around, huh?"
"Definitely."
4.
The Ryan thing was complicated, Chad thought. He hadn't been lying about how often he came in for coffee; he lived nearby, and apparently it was the closest Starbucks to his apartment, and conveniently between his apartment and the subway. Ryan was probably the staff's favorite of all the regulars -- mostly because he was a great tipper. And Chad was always glad to see him.
In his two weeks of work, he'd learned that Ryan was now a senior at Juilliard, living in a studio apartment in Hell's Kitchen (which probably cost five times as much as the two-room place Chad shared with three roommates in Brooklyn), and he was beginning to focus on networking and figuring out what he was going to do after graduation. He was single, though he went out with guys sometimes, but he didn't have time to party. The guy was focused. Seriously focused.
Chad, in return, had told him basically nothing. That was why it was complicated. Ryan was almost exactly the guy Chad remembered -- passionate and excitable, and kind of nerdy in a very, very pretty way. And still drop-dead gorgeous, with bluest eyes Chad had ever seen.
The issue? Chad wasn't out to anyone from high school (except Troy, who didn't count). And Chad didn't want to deal with all that. He'd moved to New York pretty much to make sure he'd never have to. So it wasn't like he could just ask out Ryan.
Which was getting to be a problem, because every time he saw Ryan, he was tempted. At least, until Ryan waltzed in one morning, hurried over to the bar, and said, "Listen to this!" He offered Chad the earbuds from his iPod; Chad glanced around for his supervisor, didn't see her, and indulged Ryan. He got an earful of something he didn't recognize -- definitely piano, but not one of the few classics he knew. It had that sound, though. Sort of.
"That's great," he said.
Ryan laughed. "You have no idea, huh? That's Kelsi," he said. "She wrote and played it. Isn't it amazing? Do you even remember her in high school? She's so different now, it's amazing."
Chad's stomach sank a little. "Everyone was really different then," he said. "I mean, you've changed, too."
Ryan shrugged. "I guess. Grown up. Chad?"
Chad shook his head. "Nothing. Kelsi's thing sounds cool." He handed the earbuds back. "But I'd better get back to work. Enjoy your coffee, okay?"
Ryan nodded, looking baffled, but took the hint and backed off. Chad watched him go and sighed.
Everyone was different now. But Ryan and Kelsi had ended up exactly where they'd wanted to be, doing what they loved. And Chad… Chad hadn't pictured himself dropping out, the was for sure. And he really didn't want everyone from East to know.
So there was no way he could tell Ryan.
3.
"This was the stupidest idea I ever had," Ryan said, staring down at his textbook balefully. "Chad, I'm going to fail out."
Chad leaned across the bar. "I doubt that. What're you doing with a book? Since when do your classes involve reading?"
"Since I'm a dumbass who decided to take an elective on the Harlem Renaissance," Ryan said. "I figured, hey, I'm a senior, I'll slack off, take an easy elective. I won't have to go to rehearsals or bust my ass practicing. They didn't mention writing papers!"
Chad bit his lip, obviously trying not to smile. Ryan glared at him. If Chad laughed, Ryan was never going to tip him again, ever. Except that Chad was gorgeous when he laughed, and that made Ryan's heart rate speed up. And yeah, somehow his morning trip to Starbucks -- the trip during Chad's shift -- had become the highlight of his day. Seeing Chad flash that grin, even if it was just for the sake of getting a tip, was something he looked forward to the moment his alarm clock went off. Which was idiotic, because Chad was straight, and it wasn't like he and Ryan were even friends or anything. Ryan ordered his coffee, left a tip, and was rewarded with a teasing wink or a stressed smile.
That was all it was. Chad was just another hot Starbucks guy. But hot enough that Ryan was way happier to do his occasional actual reading and studying there than in the library or his apartment.
"It's not funny," Ryan sulked.
"It is, a little," Chad said. "So what are you reading?"
He flipped to the cover to show it off -- it was an intimidating tome of the collected works of W.E.B Du Bois. Ryan didn't have to read all of them, but he did have to make his way through a few. It was the most serious reading he'd needed to do in a few years.
"Is it shallow if I hate reading?" Ryan asked. "I thought the class would be, like, listening to Duke Ellington or something, but no, I have to write a paper on this."
"It would be shallow," Chad said, "except for that dyslexia thing."
Ryan flushed. He'd rather people think he was shallow than stupid, and even though the dyslexia wasn't his fault, plenty of people acted like it meant he was dumb. "It's only mild. Not that bad. But… you remember that?"
Chad laughed, a little awkwardly. "Looks to me like you're going to need some more coffee to get through that," he said. "Let me make you something. On the house."
2.
Chad should never have agreed to switch shifts. He had barely gotten used to opening -- getting to work by 5:15 -- but Len was sick and he could use the extra shift, so he agreed to come in for the evening. He had to be in Manhattan that evening anyway; his roommate Sasha was playing her first ever show, and he'd sworn he'd go. So he'd stuffed some casual clothes in his bag and come in for it.
It turned out, as annoying as the morning rushes were, the afternoons were worse. Maybe the lines weren't as bad, but the customers were way more obnoxious. On the one hand, tourists; on the other, women who were basically Sharpay Evans aged up twenty years. He hadn't had to deal with anyone so obnoxious since… well, Sharpay, and it turned out there were dozens of them. And they were crappy tippers.
He did not stab anyone, so he counted it as a win. But he was late getting off, thanks to his manager chewing him out for not getting the milk carafes refilled or the napkin trays filled, and didn't realize until he went to get dressed that the half-sandwich he'd saved after lunch had been greasy -- way too greasy -- and had leaked through. His awesome t-shirt (block text: You Say Potato, I Say Gimme Some Potatoes) was covered in it. It was completely unwearable, which left him with just his white polo shirt. Which was fine, he supposed, except for some slight coffee stains -- hazard of the job, despite the apron -- but not exactly his style.
He was so irritated when he stormed out that he almost walked into Ryan, who was on his way inside. Ryan danced to the side gracefully, reached up to fix his hat, and said, "Wow, where's the fire?"
"I'm supposed to be out with Sasha," he said. "She'll kill me if I'm late."
"Oh." Ryan blinked. "Sasha, huh? Wouldn't want to disappoint her."
Chad shrugged. "She gets… you know, kind of bitchy when I do. I forgot to do the dishes last week and thought she was going to stab me."
"You live with her?" Ryan said.
"Yeah. And now I have to go meet her, and I look like an idiot."
"You look fine," Ryan said. "I mean, in my expert opinion. And I am an expert, darling."
"I don't," Chad said. "I hate wearing work clothes outside of work." He explained about his doomed sub and destroyed t-shirt. Ryan nodded, listening intently, of course. Ryan had always been really intense about fashion.
"You know," Ryan said finally, "if you've got five minutes, um. Well, I only live a block away. We wear about the same size… I mean, if memory serves."
Chad blinked, remembering the only non-Starbucks time he'd worn a white polo. Lava Springs. Baseball. Ryan…
He shouldn't. But it didn't even matter that he doubted Ryan owned anything he'd want to wear, because it was a chance to see Ryan outside of his job. A chance to get Ryan's ridiculously blue eyes gazing at him instead of at an iPod or textbook. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do, but Chad said, "Well, Sasha probably won't kill me if it's only five minutes."
"Great." Ryan grabbed his arm to lead the way.
"I owe you," Chad said.
"You can give me some free coffee," Ryan said, waving his other hand imperiously. "Right now, there's a fashion emergency. And that's the best kind of emergency there is."
Chad laughed.
1.
Ryan was a lot of things, but pathetic was not on the list. Play flirting with Chad had been fun. But play flirting with a dude he'd had a crush on in high school who was now living with a girlfriend was sad. Luckily, there was a simple solution: Ryan avoided him.
Unfortunately, that meant avoiding Starbucks.
Not that there weren't three other Starbucks locations within walking distance of his apartment, but Chad's was the one right by the subway, which was so convenient, and the staff all knew him on sight and he really liked being a regular. But he wasn't going to go there and mope every time he saw Chad, so he'd had to suck it up and get his coffee somewhere else.
Except he didn't have that kind of willpower. So he told himself that, after a late afternoon rehearsal (with more stupid reading to do that night), it was okay to stop in. Chad only worked mornings, usually, except for that one time -- Ryan still hadn't gotten his shirt back -- but chances were good that he'd be able to duck in, get his coffee, and get out without seeing Chad.
He almost made it. He was waiting for his drink at the bar when Chad walked out from the back room, carrying a couple of jugs of milk. Ryan turned away, and for the first time in his life wished he blended into the crowd. But no such luck.
"Hey, Evans."
"Hey." Ryan glanced at him. "I didn't know you worked evenings now."
"Well, you haven't been around much, lately," Chad said. "I figured you kicked your caffeine addiction or something."
"Nah." Ryan kept his gaze fixed firmly on one of the tables. He could be cool and chat, he told himself. Just as long as he kept it to that. A couple of seconds, get his drink, and then…
"Uh, so. I should give you that shirt back, but I don't have it with me."
"No big."
"Um." Chad swallowed. "Um, Ryan? Are you still… do you ever see anyone from home? Other than Sharpay and Kelsi?"
That was out of left field. Ryan sneaked a glance and saw Chad looked nervous. Weird. But he shook his head no. "Not really. I don't go home much anymore, you know, now that I've got my own place."
"Oh. Um. Can you… I kind of have wanted to tell you this for awhile," Chad said, "but I don't… no one at home really knows. Can you keep a secret?"
Okay, now Ryan was interested. He couldn't deny it. He gave up the pretense, slid onto one of the stools at the bar, and said, "Of course. What…?"
"I dropped out. Last semester. Well… I got kicked out. I…" Apparently it was Chad's turn to look away while he talked. Maybe there was an interesting stain on the floor or something. "One of my teammates saw me making out with a guy a few months ago. Right before the season started. It was a whole big… just a big, rotten thing, and I got asked to leave the team. No basketball meant no scholarship, and my parents were really upset about … about me… and I just couldn't… I dropped out, figured I'd get my head together somewhere else, finish school somewhere else."
Ryan stared at him. He grabbed the counter so he didn't do anything stupid like fall on his ass, which he was afraid of. Because his world was thrown off its axis, and that left him kind of dizzy.
"Wait," Ryan said. "Back up. A guy saw you…"
"Yeah," Chad said. "I'm… gay." He said it hesitantly, kind of like an experiment. "Troy knows, my parents know, and the U of A Redhawks know. That's about it. Expect you, now. I wasn't going to tell you, but then… you stopped coming in and I missed you and I… I don't know."
"You… but what about Sasha?" Ryan demanded.
"Sasha?" Chad looked baffled. "What about her?"
"Your girlfriend! She -- if you're gay -- "
"You mean my roommate?" Chad asked.
"Your… but you were meeting her for a date."
"No?" Chad blinked, then actually smiled. "No, it was just a show, she's a musician and I told her I'd go. We're friends. Who happen to live together."
"Then…" Ryan swallowed. "Then you're… You…"
"You want to go out some time?" Chad asked. "I can't afford anywhere fancy, but I can get you all the free coffee you can drink."
"I can drink a lot of coffee, Chad," Ryan said, but he was beaming. "Absolutely. Yes. Oh my god, what time do you get off shift? Are you free tonight? I have homework, but I don't care, we could go see a movie -- "
"Ryan," Chad said, and he sounded really amused. "I'll give you free coffee, but have you ever considered decaf?"
Rating/Warnings: None
Notes: For svz-insanity from this meme. This one kind of got away from me: 2,850 words. I hope some of them are coherent.
5.
Ryan breezed into his usual Starbucks and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. There was a line. Not that it was a huge shock -- it was often overrun with tourists -- but usually his late morning schedule brought him in during a lull. Oh, well. He shifted his bag into a more comfortable spot on his shoulder, checked his iPod for the time, and waited. He had to get to class on time or his instructor would kill him, but then again, if he didn't have some coffee in his system he'd be totally off his game and get in trouble anyway.
When he got up to the counter, the barista -- a freckled redhead who worked every weekday morning and knew Ryan on sight -- gave him a slight shrug. "Sorry, we're backed up a little. Training a new guy on the bar." She paused. "He's cute, though."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She giggled. "So that's a red eye?"
"You know me so well." He flashed her a smile, dropped two bucks in the tip jar, and handed over his card to pay for the drink.
She ran it, then turned around and called, "Hey, Chad, you know what a red eye is?"
Ryan peered past her curiously, and…"Chad Danforth?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and Chad looked over and caught him gaping, mouth hanging open, before he had a chance to recover.
"Holy crap, Evans? Oh my god!"
Apparently, Chad still had a smile that lit up an entire room.
"You two know each other?"
"We went to high school together," Ryan explained, and hurried over to the bar where he could talk to -- and, okay, see -- Chad better.
"Small world," Chad laughed. "Small city. Eight million people, but of all the Starbucks on all the cross streets, you had to walk into mine…"
Ryan laughed. "No kidding. What are you doing here?"
He meant in a why-are-you-working-at-Starbucks-in-New-York-and-not-playing-basketball-in-Albuquerque sense, not literally, but Chad answered, "Learning what's in a red eye, apparently. That's espresso in coffee, right?"
Ryan leaned on the bar and nodded. "I kind of developed a caffeine problem," he confessed, then, "Man, it's been forever. I don't think I've seen you since freshman year!"
Actually, he was sure; it had been Troy's Christmas party, between semesters when they were freshmen. After that, Ryan hadn't come home so often, and had basically drifted out of touch with most of the Wildcats. Chad included.
"Yeah, I've been floating around," Chad said vaguely, then began to pull the shot. He was really intent on it, obviously very new to doing it and determined to get it right. He finished, poured it into a cup of coffee, and presented it to Ryan with a proud smile.
Ryan downed a gulp. It was scorching hot, but that was what he preferred. "Delicious," he purred.
"Glad you like it." Chad glanced over at the cashier, then said, "You come in here often?"
"Like, three times a day,"
"Then I'll probably see you around, huh?"
"Definitely."
4.
The Ryan thing was complicated, Chad thought. He hadn't been lying about how often he came in for coffee; he lived nearby, and apparently it was the closest Starbucks to his apartment, and conveniently between his apartment and the subway. Ryan was probably the staff's favorite of all the regulars -- mostly because he was a great tipper. And Chad was always glad to see him.
In his two weeks of work, he'd learned that Ryan was now a senior at Juilliard, living in a studio apartment in Hell's Kitchen (which probably cost five times as much as the two-room place Chad shared with three roommates in Brooklyn), and he was beginning to focus on networking and figuring out what he was going to do after graduation. He was single, though he went out with guys sometimes, but he didn't have time to party. The guy was focused. Seriously focused.
Chad, in return, had told him basically nothing. That was why it was complicated. Ryan was almost exactly the guy Chad remembered -- passionate and excitable, and kind of nerdy in a very, very pretty way. And still drop-dead gorgeous, with bluest eyes Chad had ever seen.
The issue? Chad wasn't out to anyone from high school (except Troy, who didn't count). And Chad didn't want to deal with all that. He'd moved to New York pretty much to make sure he'd never have to. So it wasn't like he could just ask out Ryan.
Which was getting to be a problem, because every time he saw Ryan, he was tempted. At least, until Ryan waltzed in one morning, hurried over to the bar, and said, "Listen to this!" He offered Chad the earbuds from his iPod; Chad glanced around for his supervisor, didn't see her, and indulged Ryan. He got an earful of something he didn't recognize -- definitely piano, but not one of the few classics he knew. It had that sound, though. Sort of.
"That's great," he said.
Ryan laughed. "You have no idea, huh? That's Kelsi," he said. "She wrote and played it. Isn't it amazing? Do you even remember her in high school? She's so different now, it's amazing."
Chad's stomach sank a little. "Everyone was really different then," he said. "I mean, you've changed, too."
Ryan shrugged. "I guess. Grown up. Chad?"
Chad shook his head. "Nothing. Kelsi's thing sounds cool." He handed the earbuds back. "But I'd better get back to work. Enjoy your coffee, okay?"
Ryan nodded, looking baffled, but took the hint and backed off. Chad watched him go and sighed.
Everyone was different now. But Ryan and Kelsi had ended up exactly where they'd wanted to be, doing what they loved. And Chad… Chad hadn't pictured himself dropping out, the was for sure. And he really didn't want everyone from East to know.
So there was no way he could tell Ryan.
3.
"This was the stupidest idea I ever had," Ryan said, staring down at his textbook balefully. "Chad, I'm going to fail out."
Chad leaned across the bar. "I doubt that. What're you doing with a book? Since when do your classes involve reading?"
"Since I'm a dumbass who decided to take an elective on the Harlem Renaissance," Ryan said. "I figured, hey, I'm a senior, I'll slack off, take an easy elective. I won't have to go to rehearsals or bust my ass practicing. They didn't mention writing papers!"
Chad bit his lip, obviously trying not to smile. Ryan glared at him. If Chad laughed, Ryan was never going to tip him again, ever. Except that Chad was gorgeous when he laughed, and that made Ryan's heart rate speed up. And yeah, somehow his morning trip to Starbucks -- the trip during Chad's shift -- had become the highlight of his day. Seeing Chad flash that grin, even if it was just for the sake of getting a tip, was something he looked forward to the moment his alarm clock went off. Which was idiotic, because Chad was straight, and it wasn't like he and Ryan were even friends or anything. Ryan ordered his coffee, left a tip, and was rewarded with a teasing wink or a stressed smile.
That was all it was. Chad was just another hot Starbucks guy. But hot enough that Ryan was way happier to do his occasional actual reading and studying there than in the library or his apartment.
"It's not funny," Ryan sulked.
"It is, a little," Chad said. "So what are you reading?"
He flipped to the cover to show it off -- it was an intimidating tome of the collected works of W.E.B Du Bois. Ryan didn't have to read all of them, but he did have to make his way through a few. It was the most serious reading he'd needed to do in a few years.
"Is it shallow if I hate reading?" Ryan asked. "I thought the class would be, like, listening to Duke Ellington or something, but no, I have to write a paper on this."
"It would be shallow," Chad said, "except for that dyslexia thing."
Ryan flushed. He'd rather people think he was shallow than stupid, and even though the dyslexia wasn't his fault, plenty of people acted like it meant he was dumb. "It's only mild. Not that bad. But… you remember that?"
Chad laughed, a little awkwardly. "Looks to me like you're going to need some more coffee to get through that," he said. "Let me make you something. On the house."
2.
Chad should never have agreed to switch shifts. He had barely gotten used to opening -- getting to work by 5:15 -- but Len was sick and he could use the extra shift, so he agreed to come in for the evening. He had to be in Manhattan that evening anyway; his roommate Sasha was playing her first ever show, and he'd sworn he'd go. So he'd stuffed some casual clothes in his bag and come in for it.
It turned out, as annoying as the morning rushes were, the afternoons were worse. Maybe the lines weren't as bad, but the customers were way more obnoxious. On the one hand, tourists; on the other, women who were basically Sharpay Evans aged up twenty years. He hadn't had to deal with anyone so obnoxious since… well, Sharpay, and it turned out there were dozens of them. And they were crappy tippers.
He did not stab anyone, so he counted it as a win. But he was late getting off, thanks to his manager chewing him out for not getting the milk carafes refilled or the napkin trays filled, and didn't realize until he went to get dressed that the half-sandwich he'd saved after lunch had been greasy -- way too greasy -- and had leaked through. His awesome t-shirt (block text: You Say Potato, I Say Gimme Some Potatoes) was covered in it. It was completely unwearable, which left him with just his white polo shirt. Which was fine, he supposed, except for some slight coffee stains -- hazard of the job, despite the apron -- but not exactly his style.
He was so irritated when he stormed out that he almost walked into Ryan, who was on his way inside. Ryan danced to the side gracefully, reached up to fix his hat, and said, "Wow, where's the fire?"
"I'm supposed to be out with Sasha," he said. "She'll kill me if I'm late."
"Oh." Ryan blinked. "Sasha, huh? Wouldn't want to disappoint her."
Chad shrugged. "She gets… you know, kind of bitchy when I do. I forgot to do the dishes last week and thought she was going to stab me."
"You live with her?" Ryan said.
"Yeah. And now I have to go meet her, and I look like an idiot."
"You look fine," Ryan said. "I mean, in my expert opinion. And I am an expert, darling."
"I don't," Chad said. "I hate wearing work clothes outside of work." He explained about his doomed sub and destroyed t-shirt. Ryan nodded, listening intently, of course. Ryan had always been really intense about fashion.
"You know," Ryan said finally, "if you've got five minutes, um. Well, I only live a block away. We wear about the same size… I mean, if memory serves."
Chad blinked, remembering the only non-Starbucks time he'd worn a white polo. Lava Springs. Baseball. Ryan…
He shouldn't. But it didn't even matter that he doubted Ryan owned anything he'd want to wear, because it was a chance to see Ryan outside of his job. A chance to get Ryan's ridiculously blue eyes gazing at him instead of at an iPod or textbook. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do, but Chad said, "Well, Sasha probably won't kill me if it's only five minutes."
"Great." Ryan grabbed his arm to lead the way.
"I owe you," Chad said.
"You can give me some free coffee," Ryan said, waving his other hand imperiously. "Right now, there's a fashion emergency. And that's the best kind of emergency there is."
Chad laughed.
1.
Ryan was a lot of things, but pathetic was not on the list. Play flirting with Chad had been fun. But play flirting with a dude he'd had a crush on in high school who was now living with a girlfriend was sad. Luckily, there was a simple solution: Ryan avoided him.
Unfortunately, that meant avoiding Starbucks.
Not that there weren't three other Starbucks locations within walking distance of his apartment, but Chad's was the one right by the subway, which was so convenient, and the staff all knew him on sight and he really liked being a regular. But he wasn't going to go there and mope every time he saw Chad, so he'd had to suck it up and get his coffee somewhere else.
Except he didn't have that kind of willpower. So he told himself that, after a late afternoon rehearsal (with more stupid reading to do that night), it was okay to stop in. Chad only worked mornings, usually, except for that one time -- Ryan still hadn't gotten his shirt back -- but chances were good that he'd be able to duck in, get his coffee, and get out without seeing Chad.
He almost made it. He was waiting for his drink at the bar when Chad walked out from the back room, carrying a couple of jugs of milk. Ryan turned away, and for the first time in his life wished he blended into the crowd. But no such luck.
"Hey, Evans."
"Hey." Ryan glanced at him. "I didn't know you worked evenings now."
"Well, you haven't been around much, lately," Chad said. "I figured you kicked your caffeine addiction or something."
"Nah." Ryan kept his gaze fixed firmly on one of the tables. He could be cool and chat, he told himself. Just as long as he kept it to that. A couple of seconds, get his drink, and then…
"Uh, so. I should give you that shirt back, but I don't have it with me."
"No big."
"Um." Chad swallowed. "Um, Ryan? Are you still… do you ever see anyone from home? Other than Sharpay and Kelsi?"
That was out of left field. Ryan sneaked a glance and saw Chad looked nervous. Weird. But he shook his head no. "Not really. I don't go home much anymore, you know, now that I've got my own place."
"Oh. Um. Can you… I kind of have wanted to tell you this for awhile," Chad said, "but I don't… no one at home really knows. Can you keep a secret?"
Okay, now Ryan was interested. He couldn't deny it. He gave up the pretense, slid onto one of the stools at the bar, and said, "Of course. What…?"
"I dropped out. Last semester. Well… I got kicked out. I…" Apparently it was Chad's turn to look away while he talked. Maybe there was an interesting stain on the floor or something. "One of my teammates saw me making out with a guy a few months ago. Right before the season started. It was a whole big… just a big, rotten thing, and I got asked to leave the team. No basketball meant no scholarship, and my parents were really upset about … about me… and I just couldn't… I dropped out, figured I'd get my head together somewhere else, finish school somewhere else."
Ryan stared at him. He grabbed the counter so he didn't do anything stupid like fall on his ass, which he was afraid of. Because his world was thrown off its axis, and that left him kind of dizzy.
"Wait," Ryan said. "Back up. A guy saw you…"
"Yeah," Chad said. "I'm… gay." He said it hesitantly, kind of like an experiment. "Troy knows, my parents know, and the U of A Redhawks know. That's about it. Expect you, now. I wasn't going to tell you, but then… you stopped coming in and I missed you and I… I don't know."
"You… but what about Sasha?" Ryan demanded.
"Sasha?" Chad looked baffled. "What about her?"
"Your girlfriend! She -- if you're gay -- "
"You mean my roommate?" Chad asked.
"Your… but you were meeting her for a date."
"No?" Chad blinked, then actually smiled. "No, it was just a show, she's a musician and I told her I'd go. We're friends. Who happen to live together."
"Then…" Ryan swallowed. "Then you're… You…"
"You want to go out some time?" Chad asked. "I can't afford anywhere fancy, but I can get you all the free coffee you can drink."
"I can drink a lot of coffee, Chad," Ryan said, but he was beaming. "Absolutely. Yes. Oh my god, what time do you get off shift? Are you free tonight? I have homework, but I don't care, we could go see a movie -- "
"Ryan," Chad said, and he sounded really amused. "I'll give you free coffee, but have you ever considered decaf?"