Random HSM fanfic - Chapter 4
For some reason, a gin and tonic on the rocks made the cursor seem slightly less intimidating. He tapped the desk in time with the cursor, and mentally choreographed a dance he called “This Way Lies Insanity” to the beat it provided.
He got another drink before he started typing again.
When I was in University, I went to Juilliard. I received a scholarship based primarily on the choreography I made for the high school spring musical. It was some of my best work, I think. There was innocence to it, a certain naivety that was stripped away by countless hours of training and schooling. Sometimes I miss the time just doing work for the high school. If the musical flopped, no one really cared in the grand scheme of things. It was very low pressure.
I was never at Juilliard longer than a few weeks though, before Shar (my twin sister) would call me home. She would need my help casting the school musical (she worked as the drama assistant at our old high school while at the University of Albuquerque). She would need my opinion on potential beaus, or teachers. Heck, she would text me photos in the morning to get my opinion of her outfits. Ultimately, my parents invested in a private jet to shuttle me back and forth because it was cheaper than paying for airfare.
It was on one of these trips back, I think Shar needed me to get her dance partner up to scratch for their musical number or something, I don’t quite remember. Anyway, I ran into Chad. He was a jock from high school that also ended up at U of A. For some reason, I thought he might have homosexual inclinations.
I had just finished walking Sharpay to her first Monday class. My Monday teacher was at some kind of conference so I decided to stay an extra day and fly back for my afternoon classes on Tuesday. Unfortunately, Sharpay had all seminars and she didn’t want to have to ask permission for me to attend her classes. She gave me a quick ‘shoo’ motion and told me to entertain myself for a few hours. I ran into Chad at a coffee stand. I hadn’t even noticed him at first; there was just the prickly sensation on the back of my neck. Someone was checking me out. Never one to miss an opportunity, I jutted my hip out ever so slightly, showing off my ass, and stretched, letting my shirt lift a bit in the process, showing some skin. I paid for my coffee and nonchalantly turned. There was Chad, leaning against a tree and unabashedly starring. He quirked an eyebrow in invitation and I meandered over slowly, as though I had all the time in the world.
I stood next to him, also taking up space on the tree and stared out at the coffee shop patrons. He had invited me over here; he could be the first to talk. Looking back, it was stupidly stubborn of me, but hey, I was young.
“You’re bigger than you used to be,” He said finally, the silence had become too much.
“I’ve been doing a lot more dancing. Lifting twenty-something year old girls over your head several times every day will do that to a person.” I was a bit bigger, but I didn’t look anything above average. I was definitely not the incredible hulk by any means.
“You wear it well.” He wasn’t looking at me, and I wasn’t looking at him.
“Thanks,” I crossed my arms and refused to make this conversation any easier.
“Wanna go play some baseball?” He asked, still keeping his eyes forward.
I turned to look at him for the first time, trying to figure him out. I turned my eyes back to the coffee crowd. “Sure.”
We didn’t go to the baseball diamond needless to say, and I would have been amazed if we did. He brought me back to his dorm. It was a single room. There was a bed, a dresser and a desk. It honestly looked more like a prison than anything else; the walls were a rough grey cement-like substance.
As soon as the door closed, we were kissing. There was nothing tender or cute about it, there never was between us. It was rough, and rushed, desperate. Chad tugged at my shirt, breaking the kiss to pull it over my head, and then he was back to devouring my mouth. I let myself be pushed against the wall, my back grinding against the pre-mentioned cement like substance (When Shar saw my back later, she shrieked and demanded to know why a cat brutally destroyed my back….hurt like a bitch for days). At the time, I didn’t even notice the scraping. Chad was pressed against me, grinding roughly as though trying to bypass our remaining clothes through sheer force of will.
I shoved him back roughly; he took a step back in surprise.
“Shirt off” I demanded in my bitchiest drama voice.
He ripped his shirt over his head and threw it back behind him before pinning me against the wall again.
I traced my fingers over his shoulder blades and down his spine, before resting my hands on his hips. I love the feel of his skin, the muscles in his back- Loved, I loved the feel of his…whatever (Edit this later). Anyway, we…um…
Ryan bit his lip, nervously looking over everything he wrote. He was a little flushed and for a moment, he had lost himself in the writing. This was definitely not going in the book, regardless of how subtle he was with the names and how ‘out’ Chad was at the moment. This was far too personal. A faint pink tinge was staining his cheeks as he deleted most of what he had written and started again.
It was on one of these trips back, I think Shar needed me to get her dance partner up to scratch for their musical number or something, I don’t quite remember. Anyway, I ran into Chad. He was a jock from high school that also ended up at U of A. For some reason, I thought he might have homosexual inclinations. We hooked up a few times throughout our years of schooling. This was always done secretly though, he was at U of A on a sports scholarship after all, it’s not like he could quit and find a more accepting environment. The major problem was that I couldn’t even tell Shar. There were times that I flew to the university and completely avoided my twin sister for the entire weekend because as far as she knew, I wasn’t there and I couldn’t explain why I was. It was awful. Keeping things from Shar always made me feel a little sick.
What was most bizarre was that as long as we weren’t having sex, Chad was incredibly buddy-buddy. He came down to New York a few times. I brought him to a basketball game (a sport I loath, but his favourite team was playing). He got so excited when they won that he picked me up and hugged me.
I dragged him to a Broadway show, claiming that if I had to sit through a sporting event, he had to sit through a musical. Personally, I thought bringing him to ‘RENT’ was actually quite charitable on my part. I could have just as easily brought him to ‘Phantom of the Opera’, or ‘Cats’. He spent the whole musical leaning over and whispering a running commentary in my ear.
It was most noticeable at meals. I did not like to cook. At home, we had a chef and I never got out of the habit of letting someone else prepare my food. When Chad visited, we ate out - all the time. Meals were filled with laughter and food, old jokes and wine. We would talk for hours during meals. I always gave the wait staff a hefty tip for putting up with us.
Ultimately, we would have sex. It always ended up as sex with us. No matter how much I tried to put it off, that is where it would always go. Chad would sleep in my bed. He would hold me close all night (he was a bit of a cuddler, though he would never admit it). The next morning, I would ask him where he would like to have breakfast and he would freak.
“Why don’t we just stay in?” He said nervously.
“…Because I don’t have a kitchen” I suggested in confusion. “Nor do I have food?”
“Well why don’t I hit a grocery store and bring some food back?” With that same trapped, panicked voice.
“Let’s just go out,” I said, grabbing a pair of jeans off the floor.
“But….people might know.”
“Know what?” I asked over my shoulder as I dug through my closet looking for a shirt and hat combination.
“That we….you know.”
I dropped my hats in shock and turned to look at him. “You don’t want to go to breakfast because you’re afraid complete strangers might think you’ve had gay sex last night?”
Chad was silent.
“That-that’s absolutely ridiculous!” I stammered. “We went out for breakfast yesterday and you didn’t care.”
“But yesterday we hadn’t…I had nothing to hide yesterday.”
I just stared at him.
In that moment, he looked like an awkward teenager again.
“Fine, do what you want,” I stated, putting on the first hat I touched (which I later discovered, clashed horribly with my shirt). “I’m going out for breakfast.” Which I did.
The rest of the weekend was spent awkwardly. There was an elephant in the room that neither of us was ready to deal with and we couldn’t leave the room because someone might ‘know’. Needless to say, from that moment on I made it my mission to put off sex until our last night together. It caused several awful cases of blue balls but I had a lot more fun…and I still didn’t have to learn to cook.
Those years were a weird blend of stress over Chad and bitterness from Sharpay. I wasn’t allowed to mention New York; I certainly wasn’t allowed to mention Juilliard. They gave me the scholarship instead of her. Even though my parents could have paid for her to go, she refused saying that she wouldn’t go to a school that rejected her. Shar, in turn, would rave about how fantastic U of A was. I loved my sister and I knew why she was behaving the way she was, but I couldn’t help but feel that if she had gotten into Juilliard and I was banished to Albuquerque, she would rub my face in it at every opportunity.
Ryan stopped writing. “This just keeps getting worse,” he said to Bast, who was preening by the window. Pressing down the backspace key, the text slowly disappeared.
In one gulp, he finished his drink. “Screw it,” he muttered and started writing.
My name is Ryan Evans. I am a wealthy and famous choreographer. My only friend in the world is my cat Sebastian. Bast for short…
The words just flowed out of him.
In what seemed like no time at all, he had filled his quota; all about his cat. After another two months of revisions, it was ready for publication. All it needed now was a dedication. Once again, Ryan was taunted by the blinking cursor.
Almost by their own accord, his fingers slowly began tapping out a message.
To Sharpay, Chad, Kelsi, and R.J.: all the people with whom I would give everything to have a second chance.
Ryan didn’t give himself a chance to think about it too closely, or to regret it. He just sent it off and turned off the computer. He was done.
He got another drink before he started typing again.
When I was in University, I went to Juilliard. I received a scholarship based primarily on the choreography I made for the high school spring musical. It was some of my best work, I think. There was innocence to it, a certain naivety that was stripped away by countless hours of training and schooling. Sometimes I miss the time just doing work for the high school. If the musical flopped, no one really cared in the grand scheme of things. It was very low pressure.
I was never at Juilliard longer than a few weeks though, before Shar (my twin sister) would call me home. She would need my help casting the school musical (she worked as the drama assistant at our old high school while at the University of Albuquerque). She would need my opinion on potential beaus, or teachers. Heck, she would text me photos in the morning to get my opinion of her outfits. Ultimately, my parents invested in a private jet to shuttle me back and forth because it was cheaper than paying for airfare.
It was on one of these trips back, I think Shar needed me to get her dance partner up to scratch for their musical number or something, I don’t quite remember. Anyway, I ran into Chad. He was a jock from high school that also ended up at U of A. For some reason, I thought he might have homosexual inclinations.
I had just finished walking Sharpay to her first Monday class. My Monday teacher was at some kind of conference so I decided to stay an extra day and fly back for my afternoon classes on Tuesday. Unfortunately, Sharpay had all seminars and she didn’t want to have to ask permission for me to attend her classes. She gave me a quick ‘shoo’ motion and told me to entertain myself for a few hours. I ran into Chad at a coffee stand. I hadn’t even noticed him at first; there was just the prickly sensation on the back of my neck. Someone was checking me out. Never one to miss an opportunity, I jutted my hip out ever so slightly, showing off my ass, and stretched, letting my shirt lift a bit in the process, showing some skin. I paid for my coffee and nonchalantly turned. There was Chad, leaning against a tree and unabashedly starring. He quirked an eyebrow in invitation and I meandered over slowly, as though I had all the time in the world.
I stood next to him, also taking up space on the tree and stared out at the coffee shop patrons. He had invited me over here; he could be the first to talk. Looking back, it was stupidly stubborn of me, but hey, I was young.
“You’re bigger than you used to be,” He said finally, the silence had become too much.
“I’ve been doing a lot more dancing. Lifting twenty-something year old girls over your head several times every day will do that to a person.” I was a bit bigger, but I didn’t look anything above average. I was definitely not the incredible hulk by any means.
“You wear it well.” He wasn’t looking at me, and I wasn’t looking at him.
“Thanks,” I crossed my arms and refused to make this conversation any easier.
“Wanna go play some baseball?” He asked, still keeping his eyes forward.
I turned to look at him for the first time, trying to figure him out. I turned my eyes back to the coffee crowd. “Sure.”
We didn’t go to the baseball diamond needless to say, and I would have been amazed if we did. He brought me back to his dorm. It was a single room. There was a bed, a dresser and a desk. It honestly looked more like a prison than anything else; the walls were a rough grey cement-like substance.
As soon as the door closed, we were kissing. There was nothing tender or cute about it, there never was between us. It was rough, and rushed, desperate. Chad tugged at my shirt, breaking the kiss to pull it over my head, and then he was back to devouring my mouth. I let myself be pushed against the wall, my back grinding against the pre-mentioned cement like substance (When Shar saw my back later, she shrieked and demanded to know why a cat brutally destroyed my back….hurt like a bitch for days). At the time, I didn’t even notice the scraping. Chad was pressed against me, grinding roughly as though trying to bypass our remaining clothes through sheer force of will.
I shoved him back roughly; he took a step back in surprise.
“Shirt off” I demanded in my bitchiest drama voice.
He ripped his shirt over his head and threw it back behind him before pinning me against the wall again.
I traced my fingers over his shoulder blades and down his spine, before resting my hands on his hips. I love the feel of his skin, the muscles in his back- Loved, I loved the feel of his…whatever (Edit this later). Anyway, we…um…
Ryan bit his lip, nervously looking over everything he wrote. He was a little flushed and for a moment, he had lost himself in the writing. This was definitely not going in the book, regardless of how subtle he was with the names and how ‘out’ Chad was at the moment. This was far too personal. A faint pink tinge was staining his cheeks as he deleted most of what he had written and started again.
It was on one of these trips back, I think Shar needed me to get her dance partner up to scratch for their musical number or something, I don’t quite remember. Anyway, I ran into Chad. He was a jock from high school that also ended up at U of A. For some reason, I thought he might have homosexual inclinations. We hooked up a few times throughout our years of schooling. This was always done secretly though, he was at U of A on a sports scholarship after all, it’s not like he could quit and find a more accepting environment. The major problem was that I couldn’t even tell Shar. There were times that I flew to the university and completely avoided my twin sister for the entire weekend because as far as she knew, I wasn’t there and I couldn’t explain why I was. It was awful. Keeping things from Shar always made me feel a little sick.
What was most bizarre was that as long as we weren’t having sex, Chad was incredibly buddy-buddy. He came down to New York a few times. I brought him to a basketball game (a sport I loath, but his favourite team was playing). He got so excited when they won that he picked me up and hugged me.
I dragged him to a Broadway show, claiming that if I had to sit through a sporting event, he had to sit through a musical. Personally, I thought bringing him to ‘RENT’ was actually quite charitable on my part. I could have just as easily brought him to ‘Phantom of the Opera’, or ‘Cats’. He spent the whole musical leaning over and whispering a running commentary in my ear.
It was most noticeable at meals. I did not like to cook. At home, we had a chef and I never got out of the habit of letting someone else prepare my food. When Chad visited, we ate out - all the time. Meals were filled with laughter and food, old jokes and wine. We would talk for hours during meals. I always gave the wait staff a hefty tip for putting up with us.
Ultimately, we would have sex. It always ended up as sex with us. No matter how much I tried to put it off, that is where it would always go. Chad would sleep in my bed. He would hold me close all night (he was a bit of a cuddler, though he would never admit it). The next morning, I would ask him where he would like to have breakfast and he would freak.
“Why don’t we just stay in?” He said nervously.
“…Because I don’t have a kitchen” I suggested in confusion. “Nor do I have food?”
“Well why don’t I hit a grocery store and bring some food back?” With that same trapped, panicked voice.
“Let’s just go out,” I said, grabbing a pair of jeans off the floor.
“But….people might know.”
“Know what?” I asked over my shoulder as I dug through my closet looking for a shirt and hat combination.
“That we….you know.”
I dropped my hats in shock and turned to look at him. “You don’t want to go to breakfast because you’re afraid complete strangers might think you’ve had gay sex last night?”
Chad was silent.
“That-that’s absolutely ridiculous!” I stammered. “We went out for breakfast yesterday and you didn’t care.”
“But yesterday we hadn’t…I had nothing to hide yesterday.”
I just stared at him.
In that moment, he looked like an awkward teenager again.
“Fine, do what you want,” I stated, putting on the first hat I touched (which I later discovered, clashed horribly with my shirt). “I’m going out for breakfast.” Which I did.
The rest of the weekend was spent awkwardly. There was an elephant in the room that neither of us was ready to deal with and we couldn’t leave the room because someone might ‘know’. Needless to say, from that moment on I made it my mission to put off sex until our last night together. It caused several awful cases of blue balls but I had a lot more fun…and I still didn’t have to learn to cook.
Those years were a weird blend of stress over Chad and bitterness from Sharpay. I wasn’t allowed to mention New York; I certainly wasn’t allowed to mention Juilliard. They gave me the scholarship instead of her. Even though my parents could have paid for her to go, she refused saying that she wouldn’t go to a school that rejected her. Shar, in turn, would rave about how fantastic U of A was. I loved my sister and I knew why she was behaving the way she was, but I couldn’t help but feel that if she had gotten into Juilliard and I was banished to Albuquerque, she would rub my face in it at every opportunity.
Ryan stopped writing. “This just keeps getting worse,” he said to Bast, who was preening by the window. Pressing down the backspace key, the text slowly disappeared.
In one gulp, he finished his drink. “Screw it,” he muttered and started writing.
My name is Ryan Evans. I am a wealthy and famous choreographer. My only friend in the world is my cat Sebastian. Bast for short…
The words just flowed out of him.
In what seemed like no time at all, he had filled his quota; all about his cat. After another two months of revisions, it was ready for publication. All it needed now was a dedication. Once again, Ryan was taunted by the blinking cursor.
Almost by their own accord, his fingers slowly began tapping out a message.
To Sharpay, Chad, Kelsi, and R.J.: all the people with whom I would give everything to have a second chance.
Ryan didn’t give himself a chance to think about it too closely, or to regret it. He just sent it off and turned off the computer. He was done.