Author:
hilaryscribbles Recipient:
Tara1031Title: Life After Grad Night: The Long Beach Version
Pairing(s): Chad/Ryan, briefly mentioned Zeke/Sharpay
Summary: Chad lies about his after high school plans, Ryan attempts to clean the house, and Sharpay screws things up. Also, Chad has horrible decorating sense.
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): This plotline is ridiculous, as it revolves around one of Sharpay’s schemes. I’m playing the Disney card here, though, because Disney is a huge fan of ridiculous schemes. Just saying. Also, this is primarily dialogue-based.
Word Count: 11,994
Disclaimer: All High School Musical characters herein are the property of Disney. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes:
This is one of two separate continuations to “Galveston Grad Gala 08.” This is the fluffity fluffity fluff fluff read: cheesy, predictable romance novel version of what happens after Ryan and Chad’s Grad Night celebration in Galveston. This storyline is unrelated to its super melodramatic cousin, The Galveston Version. Enjoy!
Inspired almost entirely by my experiences during my freshman year of college.
Previous Parts
Part 1 Part 2 **
Life After Grad Night: The Long Beach Version, Part I
**
After startling him half to death when he flung the door open so hard that it shook the entire dorm, Chad Danforth, all cocky hip-sway and shivering afro, was standing in his living room. His living room. On his carpet. Wearing muddy shoes.
"So it really is you!" Chad enthused. "I wondered when I saw my rooming assignment, but I was like, what are the odds, right?"
"Take those off!" Ryan commanded in place of a more civil greeting, already making for the cleaning supplies his housekeeper, Lupe, made sure to pack for him two nights previously.
Chad blinked at him skeptically a few times before ignoring the demand entirely. Instead he flopped gracelessly, sloppy shoes and all, onto the delapidated futon. (It was left behind by the dorm's previous tenant.) Ryan rolled his eyes as he retrieved a can of something that had a picture of a living room on it; he figured that made it was safe to use on the carpet. He gave the nozzle an experimental flick, aimed it in the general direction of Chad's muddy footprints, and waited for something to happen.
"So you're my roommate!" Chad did not remove his shoes, but he did wince at the footprints he'd left behind. Apparently he really hadn't realized his green Converse high-tops were a complete mess.
"No," Ryan said, smiling, "I am demanding that you take your shoes off because I'm robbing the dorm you haven't actually moved in to yet, and your shoes are the only valuable things I see." He gave the bottle trigger another hard squeeze, but nothing came out of it. "Look, I think they only stuck us together because we're the only people from East High to get accepted here, and they take all of that into account."
"What do you mean, 'only?' It's cool!" Chad said, and Ryan looked up from the footprints, a little surprised. Did Chad look guily? No, that was just Ryan's overactive imagination. He waited for the cleanser to start dissolving the mud; when it didn't, he figured he needed to add a bit more.
"Dude, are we the only people in here? I signed up for a triple. This is awesome."
Chad was so nice. It was still a little surprising to Ryan, thinking about having friends that didn't share the same genetic parentage.
...and who weren't...well...totally insane. And were very hot. And single. And loveable. And...oh, god, he was not going to start crushing on Chad again after only a month of separation. He'd worked so hard to get over it.
Ryan swallowed down the lump in his throat with utmost dignity and smiled cheerfully. "You know what would be really awesome?" he asked.
"A basketball hoop in the living room."
"No. Better."
"Hmm...keg parties every Friday?"
"You're messing up my sarcastic rhythm, Danforth. Just ask me what would be awesome already."
"Me taking my shoes off," Chad replied, and then grinned. "Too easy, man. You read like a book."
"Oh, so you're acquainted with those? Could've fooled me in high school," Ryan said, and tried in vain to get the stupid nozzle to spray.
Chad crossed his arms over his chest in something strangely akin to smugness. Ryan couldn't be sure whether it was directed at his last comment, or his inability to properly utilize spray bottles.
"Man, I'm so glad I'm rooming with you," Chad said after a brief silence. "I thought I was gonna be stuck with some jerk. This is gonna be sweet."
Ryan tried not to stare at him in shock; it wasn't like they hadn't been friends by graduation or anything, that Ryan hadn't managed to get past the stupid crush and make friends, because they had (pretty close to best friends actually; Chad hadn't cried over his leaving at graduation or anything like that, but he definitely hated the idea of being separated) but this was Chad, and Chad was so...But did he really want to live with Ryan?
Ryan watched him. There was nothing in Chad's languid, exhausted lounge to indicate anything other than complete satisfaction with his new living arrangements. That was kind of nice. Hopefully, the feeling would last.
"As long as there's no hoop in the living room," Ryan said, returning to his bottle.
"So my dad bought me a Wii," Chad went on proudly, as though Ryan would really be impressed by something so plebian, "and there's this tight baseball game that came with it. We should totally set it up before we fill this place up with furniture and stuff."
"And there I was, wasting all that energy during graduation thinking I'd have to miss you people," Ryan said, watching Chad fondly from the corner of his eye until Chad's shoes decided to start dripping.
"So how've you been, Evans?" Plip, plip, plip. Chad noted the dripping, stared at the bottle in Ryan's hand pointedly, and then a grin split his face right in half.
Oh, great. Maybe it wasn't Chad he had to worry about, being unhappy with their new situation.
"Take. Those. Off!"
**
Chad dropped his corner of the kitchen table with a satisfied sigh. "Look, Twinks!" (Chad's newest nickname for Ryan was an abbreviated form of "Twinkletoes," which--and Chad thought this very clever--was a great way to get in a jab at Ryan's sexuality, favorite pastime, and fey good looks in one convenient pronoun.) "We've got a table."
"Do we really?" Sweating during a baseball game was one thing, but sweating while moving furniture was another, and Ryan was certainly not wiping the stuff off his forehead from where he slumped at his end of the table. "I'll alert the media."
"Yeah, seriously. I bet we're the only guys on campus that have a real dining room in their dorm," Chad went on happily. He stood back to admire their handiwork, stroking his chin. "Hey, maybe we should move it forward a little bit, so people won't see the stain."
Ryan smiled sheepishly. "It's not that bad."
"Uh, correction: it wasn't that bad until you decided to clean it with varnish," Chad grinned, radiating classic Danforth superiority. Ryan shrugged him off; like he'd ever had to clean up muddy footprints before. It was an honest mistake.
"As you've reminded me twenty times today."
Chad smug was a force of nature, and oh, how smug he was becoming. "And I'm going to keep reminding you, because it's just that funny."
"It had a nozzle; why would a bottle of varnish ever have a nozzle on it?" Ryan scoffed, leaning pointedly against the bright blue wall he'd helped Chad paint the day before.
Chad began pulling the table toward himself, gauging its location in relation to the ruined carpet. "To spray it with, Twinks, duh. And, um, what, do nozzles automatically equal carpet cleaning supplies now?"
"The bottle had a living room on it," Ryan insisted breezily.
"Yeah, full of wooden furniture."
"And a TV!"
"Why would carpet cleaner have a TV on it?"
Ryan stopped to think about that. "Well, if it was sitting on top of the carpet..."
Chad shrugged. "So I'm doing the cleaning from now on." And that was about the time Ryan gave up on ever living like a civil human being again. How could his parents subject him to this? He wondered momentarily if he could bribe the Towers staff into giving Chad to someone else.
His sister, maybe. That would definitely be adequate punishment.
Chad frowned when he realized he'd pulled the table so far out into the room that its lip now overlapped the front door. "Do you think your dad would buy us one of those cool chandeliers? You know, the star-shaped kind that you can adjust for mood lighting, and come with those...those red glass shade things?"
Ryan stopped brushing dust from his polo, and smiled in spite of himself. "You want a chandelier in your dorm room?"
"Only if your dad'll pay for it." Chad gave the table a tiny push back toward the wall, the muscles in his arms flexing and going soft, and Ryan couldn't help but watch, just as he always had.
"Why would Dad ever pay for your chandelier?" he asked, and averted his eyes when Chad noticed him looking.
"It would be our chandelier." And when Ryan looked up at him again, Chad winked. He winked.
Ryan nearly gagged, arm thing forgotten. "Why would I ever want a star-shaped chandelier?"
"Who else has a star-shaped chandelier in their dorm room?"
Sharpay will, once she sees it...only hers will be coated in faux-fur, Ryan thought with a shudder. His poor sister, being out there on her own without his guidance...
"Your flair for decorative innovation is beyond me, Chad." And too much like Sharpay's, he almost added. He wasn't that cruel, though. "And no, my father would never waste money on anything that hideous," Ryan gave the table a backward yank.
Something seemed to possess Chad again, and he dropped his end to think. "Hey, remember that awesome picture I had in my room?"
Ryan grimaced at the thought. It was a framed poster of a hot rod, the model with flames painted on the doors, against a twinkling city skyscape that literally twinkled. The entire poster was lit from the inside by cartoony rainbow-colored strands that rotated colors at varying speeds. "If you're talking about the one that had the Christmas lights in it, I might kill you."
Chad laughed like Ryan was kidding. "They aren't Christmas lights. They are fiber-optic accents."
"Yeah, masquerading as hot-rod headlights. Rainbow colored headlights. And no, that kind of thing never belongs in the dining room."
"Yeah, you're right. Can we get a pool table?"
Ryan sighed.
Chad, knowing defeat when he heard it, already had his mind on something else. He sighed, toeing the carpet resentfully. "I can't believe you tried to clean this with varnish."
"Just to let you know, that was like, the eleventh subject change this conversation," Ryan was about to make it twelve if Chad wouldn't leave the carpet alone.
"Maybe we could try bleaching it or something," Chad said thoughtfully, and leaned over to study the impressive stains.
Ryan took pity on him. "We'll buy a rug."
Chad's eyes lit up. Oh, no. "Dude, let's get one of those antique ones. With the tassles. And lions killing goats and stuff."
"Lions doing what? Why would you ever want that?"
"A Persian rug. They're really cool, Ryan."
"What is wrong with you?"
"This is my first place ever! I want to make it awesome."
"That is not awesome."
"Persian rugs are awesome!"
"Chad, our walls are blue. We're not getting a Persian rug."
"They come in blue," Chad said flippantly. Then he smirked. "Your dad could buy it!"
"There you go, bringing Dad into this again."
"He likes me." Chad was so thoroughly invested in the idea that his expression read, How could he possibly resist buying me a blue Persian rug with lions killing goats on it? Ryan had to fight the urge to sit him down and give him a long, intense lecture on why normal, healthy people did not keep fugly furnishings in their dorms where other normal, healthy people could see them.
"We are not getting a Persian rug."
"I saw it on this decorating show. I'm telling you. It looks awesome." Chad strolled across the room to point casually at the wall next to the kitchen entrance. "And we'll get a bar right here, a nice, old scuffed up one that we'll have to re-varnish and then fill it up with Pinot Gregio and Sean Jean and Grey Goose L'orange. And the whole thing will be lit with our awesome chandelier." He smiled and patted Ryan on the shoulder. "Don't you think that will look awesome with my rug?"
"I'll tell you what looks awesome. Not having lions killing goats in our dining room."
"No, Ryan, just you wait. This place is going to be so hot," Chad declared for the six-hundredth time that day, before hopping back out the door to start hauling in the table's accompanying high-backed chairs.
**
"Hang up and come shoot baskets with me."
Ryan was on the phone with his sister; he flapped a distracted hand at Chad and tried to pay attention to her story about the guy at the Towers information counter. Apparently, he was tall, dark, handsome, and wearing a Wicked t-shirt.
"He complimented my outfit," Sharpay said cheerfully, as if recounting the guy's declaration of love.
"Sis, I wouldn't hold out for this one," Ryan advised, wondering if the guy kept a tube of mascara in his back pocket just in case. "Besides, everybody compliments you."
"Well, of course, but he was totally hot," she replied flippantly, and Ryan could imagine her pushing her hair off her shoulders with a flourish.
"Yeah, but what happened to Zeke?"
"He's in Albuquerque! That's a thousand miles away. He'll understand about Brad."
"Uh-huh."
"Zeke would shoot hoops with me," Chad declared from behind Ryan's back.
"Chad, I am on the phone," Ryan replied, before losing more than a few breaths as Chad's ball connected with his back.
"Chad?" Sharpay's voice was suddenly a lot less excited and a lot more accusatory. "Chad who?"
Ryan, clutching his ribcage and glaring at Chad, snapped hoarsely, "My incredibly obnoxious roommate who won't give me two seconds peace. I am not playing basketball with you!"
"Oh my god, Chad Danforth?" Sharpay was having a conniption. "Your rooming with Chad Danforth? I thought you were getting away from him!"
Chad heard that, and he cocked an accusatory eyebrow at him. "Away from me?"
"Chad, it's my sister," Ryan said, clutching his chest, cheeks flushing.
"How did he get into UCLB?" Sharpay demanded.
"Uh, he applied maybe?"
"Ryan, remember how upset he was you were leaving?" And now she was lecturing him. "And look, surprise, here he is."
Ryan hadn't considered that, actually. Chad had been pretty upset for a while, right around first semester finals; first Troy was abandoning him for U of A, Taylor and Gabby were off at some Texas Polytechnic institute, and Chad...
...had never really said anything about having a plan at all, not after U of A turned him down, but...that never really seemed to bother him at all...
"Chad? When did you apply here? And why didn't you tell me?" Ryan rasped, and uggh, he'd really like to be able to breathe again.
Chad froze in the doorway for a moment, before smiling innocently. "Oh, you know. A talent scout searched me out right after we graduated. You know. While you were in Europe. I--um--"
"In a month?" Ryan blinked at him, surprised, wondering if he looked as purple as he felt. Sharpay was silent at his ear.
"Yeah, I'm in on a scholarship," Chad went on, and oh but Chad was no actor. There was something funny going on here.
"Aw, come on, man," Chad said, and even his hair seemed to droop. "Does that really matter?" Uggh. He was cute. Like a puppy. A crafty puppy who was not telling him something.
"A scholarship? For what? Stalking you?" That was Sharpay. "What did he do to you? Why are you talking like that?"
"Look, Evans," Chad said, retrieving his ball, "if I don't get in a few good free-throws, Coach'll kill me. I haven't practiced in days."
"Go do it yourself!" Ryan wheezed. It was easier not to think about things that were obviously nowhere near the truth. Like Chad would ever...for Ryan, of all people...
Sharpay was livid. "Ryan, pay attention to me! What is going on?"
"I need somebody to block me," Chad reasoned, and Ryan was grateful that Chad's momentary awkwardness was gone.
"Go ask that guy next door."
Chad's entire face crinkled toward his nose in distaste. "Who, Martin? The World of Warcraft guy?"
"I'm on the phone, Danforth!" Ryan said, voice finally coming back at full-strength, and he tried to leave for his bedroom, but one of Chad's boxes was in his way. He groaned and contemplated just kicking it aside. Chad was such a pain!
"Ryan," Sharpay growled, "if you don't talk to me now, I'm going to come over there and see what's going on myself!"
Inspiration hit. Ryan turned back to Chad, gathering himself into the best imitation of his father that he could manage. "Sharpay says if you don't let me talk on the phone she's going to come over here right now and deal with you herself."
Chad's face fell like bricks out a thirty story window. "Evans? You suck." He was genuinely horrified.
Sharpay's line went dead, and Ryan shook his head in mock-desparity. "See? What'd I tell you about leaving me alone?"
"I guess I'll go ask Martin, then," Chad said, dashing for the door as quickly as he could.
Ryan smiled, relieved, when the door's automatic lock snapped back in place with a sharp click. He promptly called Sharpay back, and hoped she wasn't already racing down their hallway.
...it'd serve Chad right if she was, though.
**
California was sweltering in August, and Ryan was not enjoying the weather at all...especially because the air conditioner would not turn on for anything.
At least the veritable mountain of boxes composed of his and Chad's earthly possessions blocked some of the sunlight streaming in through the west wall. Whoever thought designing an entire wall out of glass in Southern California was a great idea for a room cooled only by a tiny air conditioner in the dining room/kitchen area was a complete idiot. This idiocy could be matched only by thinking that college students, whose parents had neglected to pack window coverings designed to cover entire walls made of glass, would enjoy such things. Ryan doubted very much, though, that the original architects were taking the building's future occupants into account at all, otherwise they wouldn't have made the other walls devoid of any kind of ventilation whatsoever. The room was like a hotbox, and when heated like it was, the only ventilation coming from the door they'd propped open, it smelled strongly of stale marijuana and the ghosts of cat boxes past.
Ryan still couldn't quite believe he lived here.
"Chad," Ryan called from where he was flopped bonelessly over the grubby old futon, "bring me some iced tea, would you?"
Chad poked his head around the kitchen archway, eyelids droopy, sweat running down his forehead into his eyes. Hair stuck in wet, limp curls to his brow and cheeks. "What?" he asked, waving an empty Cheerios box in front of his face to create a breeze.
"Iced tea," Ryan said, and he didn't even pretend to be unpacking like Chad was supposed to be.
"Get it yourself," Chad replied, slipping sluggishly back into the kitchen. "You sound like your sister."
"You're in the kitchen," Ryan reminded grumpily.
"I'm working," Chad said, banging on something metallic to prove his point. "You're lazy."
"It's hot," Ryan replied.
For a few minutes the only sounds in the sticky, stale dorm room were those Chad's work was producing in the kitchen, and then the sounds of their mini-fridge opening and closing. Ryan nearly shivered in anticipation as he listened to the clink-clink-clink of ice cubes dropped into Tiffany glassware and the rush of cool iced tea being poured a few seconds after. He peeled his back off the futon cushion to seem a little less limp and lazy when Chad brought it out to him.
Ryan always knew Chad was a good-looking guy (they had switched clothing before and all) but he'd never looked better than he did carrying two frosty glasses of iced tea out of the kitchen, clad only in boxers and a faded wifebeater made transparent with his own sweat, a smear of mysterious black grease marking his cheek like war paint.
Chad noticed Ryan staring at him again and took the opportunity to shove his legs off the edge of the futon. Ryan hardly noticed, he was so taken by Chad's sweat-oiled body and--more importantly--the iced tea in his right hand.
"Give it," said Ryan, not even bothering with civility, but Chad motioned for him to be still, pointing toward the dining room. He held a hand up to his ear, indicating that Ryan listen carefully.
At first Ryan's heat addled brain couldn't process anything but pregnant silence and the need to down that iced tea, but a faint rumbling in the walls caught his attention and diverted it abruptly. After a few more seconds of cough-like metallic rattling, a great whooshing sound filed the apartment, and a burst of air so loud and forceful that it pushed the front door shut exploded in Ryan's face. It smelled like dust; like a box of vintage Christmas ornaments that hadn't seen the light of day for years. Ryan's jaw dropped.
Chad was clearly satisfied with himself. Again. "Oh, yeah. I am that good." He pressed the iced tea into Ryan's hand.
"I think I love you," Ryan said, admiring him for so many reasons, fighting down the niggling curiosity that had been peaked in him during Sharpay's phone call earlier that week. "We're eloping. Now."
"Mr. Evans, I'm not that kind of girl," Chad replied, reaching over to ruffle Ryan's limp, sweat-heavy hair.
"You're so perfect it's disgusting," Ryan admonished, cheeks flushing darker, and now he probably looked like a tomato. "You and Bolton, the Wonder Twins. Are you even human?"
Chad dimpled. "So I guess this means we can get the chandelier now, right?"
Ryan fished an icecube from his glass and dropped it down the back of Chad's shirt.
**
Sharpay and her newest puppy, Toby, were not at all pleased with the state of Ryan's dorm; Toby was so disgusted by the smell of the futon that he wouldn't even chew on it, and Sharpay stared at the rows of boxes in terror, like they might fall and crush her at any second.
That probably wasn't an unfounded fear, really, since they were stacked about twenty high, but Ryan still found it amusing.
"Mother would be horrified," were the first words out of Sharpay's mouth when she stepped through the front door. The Evanses had a way with unconventional greetings.
"Hey!" snapped Chad.
"I'm not talking about you," Sharpay replied coolly, trying to set Toby down on the futon. This was when they discovered that the little guy was terrified of it.
"Yeah, Mom likes him, remember?" Ryan couldn't help but tease his sister when he actually got the opportunity.
"She won't once she knows he's stalking you," Sharpay replied, a slow, evil little smile crossing her face.
Chad shot her an absolutely furious glare. Ryan stepped between them and held his hands up. "Okay, okay, enough."
Sharpay grunted prettily.
"I can't believe the repairmen won't be here until tomorrow," she moaned, perching herself cautiously on one of the kitchen chairs. "I can't believe you two are the only ones with a working air conditioner in this place."
"Chad fixed it," said Ryan, grinning. He loved Sharpay, honestly, but it was so fun to get at her some times, especially because Ryan could always, always play dumb if she called him on it.
Chad had gone back to playing Paper Mario; the sounds of it were throwing poor Toby into shiver fits in Sharpay's lap.
"Really?" Sharpay's eyebrows raised higher than should've been physically possible. "Did he charge you afterwards?"
"No!" Chad snapped, voice sharp, cheeks darkening to a reddish purple. "Why would I charge somebody who lives in my dorm?"
"Well, you are here on a scholarship," Sharpay said a little coldly, but there was something suspicious in the way she was suddenly holding herself, her arm casually draped itself over the back of the chair, the near-imperceptible narrowing of her eyes. Ryan knew the wheels in her head were turning in a new direction.
Chad looked up from his game to glower at her for a minute before his character smacked into something deadly and promptly exploded. "Ryan, take Ice Princess to the mall or something."
Toby's shaggy little ears perked, and he came to stand at the edge of Sharpay's lap, sniffing in Chad's direction. Interesting development, that. Toby seemed to be as unnaturally interested in Chad as...well, everybody else.
"What did you just call me?" Sharpay asked, and there was actually a tinge of amusement peppering her disdain. This time, Ryan's eyebrows quirked. She wasn't even disguising her deviousness. She was practically flaunting it.
"Ice Princess," Chad replied, restarting the game console with more ire than even Sharpay was exhibiting. "Didn't you know that's what we all called you in high school?" So Ryan really could use his sister to get Chad to leave him alone, if he had to. Yikes.
"Ryan, tell your roommate to stop being an immature jerk," Sharpay said coolly, but Ryan could already see her devising a way to get Chad in her dorm fixing her air conditioner. It looked like Toby was in on the plan too, little tail now wagging like mad.
"Sis," Ryan said warningly, and she smiled up at him innocently. Pssh, yeah right. They shared too many genes to allow for that kind of thing. "Don't even think about it."
"Yeah," said Chad.
"Think about what?" she asked, all sugar and sweetness and ingenue-eyelash-fluttering. She stood, letting Toby rest on the chair, and smoothed her ridiculously short (and fabulous) pink swim trunks. "I'm getting iced tea. Ryan says you make wonderful iced tea, jockish person."
That was so like her, trying to use Chad just because he had something she wanted. He shook his head adamantly. "Nope, sis. He's my repairman. You can't have him."
"Your...repairman." The pitch of her voice dropped considerably, and that was never a good sign.
Those mental wheels of hers were spinning in a direction Ryan hadn't even contemplated since last May, right around Prom time; he'd suffered a particularly hard bout of Chad-crushing, and Sharpay had been the only one able to snap him out of it. Uggh, Ryan was sick of blushing already. Really, there was no hiding anything from his sister. She stood next to the kitchen entrance for a moment, hands-on-hips, and this wasn't even deviousness. Sharpay had the air of a woman on a mission.
"Sharpay," Ryan warned, and just knew he was about to clam up. She smiled at both of them before leaving the dining room with one of her impressive hair flips.
"Go home, Sharpay," moaned Chad, and he hit his attack button with uncharacteristic violence. A gigantic bullet monster thing, clearly defeated, fell away from Mario's path, and Chad was so performing mental voodoo exercises. That bullet had his sister's name written all over it; it was clear in Chad's vengeful smile.
Ryan bent to pat his shoulder reassuringly, and started when he thought of what Sharpay would make of that when she saw it.
I knew it! This again! she'd growl, and that would be the end of it.
He dropped his hand. "Don't worry, jockish person. I'll save you from my sister."
"I hate you," Chad said, "just to let you know."
"Mm-hmm." Ryan stretched, grinned internally at Chad's misery (Chad was always funny when he was being annoyed by Sharpay), and strolled off to help Sharpay in the kitchen...and maybe figure out what horrible things she was planning to do to Chad.
Only Toby noticed Chad's eyes lingering on Ryan as he went, though everybody on their floor heard it when his character exploded again.
**
"Honey, I'm home," said Chad, and he was trying to be funny. Instead, he simply sounded exhausted.
Ryan had all of his various syllabi spread out on the dining room table, carefully noting on his PDA which days he had rehearsals, voice and dance lessons, and--least importantly--homework for his GEs. Maybe taking seventeen units wasn't really that bright an idea after all.
Kelsi would be proud, he thought a bit sullenly, and made a mental note to message her on Facebook that evening.
Chad came to sit behind him, shoving a few of Ryan's papers over to make room for his binder. Ryan almost protested, but Chad looked so greasy and miserable that he thought better of it. He smelled like strawberry, with just a hint of tuna salad.
"At least you're home early," Ryan said absentmindedly, trying to reorganize.
"My manager took pity on me when I stepped in a puddle of Bananarama and hit my head on a ladder."
The syllabi were forgotten. "Whoa. Hard day at work, I guess?" Ryan asked, and tried to keep the disdain out of his voice. He tried to ignore the fact that Chad worked at Wal-Mart entirely, nor to mention the fact that he needed to in the first place.
"We had a melt-down in the frozen foods," Chad said, and plucked a piece of hairy, dusty Scotch tape from the hem of his soiled apron. Ew, retail. "The entire grocery staff had to help clean up."
Ryan frowned. That explained the smell, then. "Oh, man. That's rough."
"No kidding," Chad sighed. "I was practically swimming in neopolitan. Why would anybody ever buy a three gallon tub of neopolitan ice cream, anyway? Why do we even carry it?"
"Because it's Wal-Mart?"
"Yeah, probably," Chad shook his head, and Ryan couldn't help but grimace as something wet sprinkled his face. Sure enough, it was ice cream.
"What, did nobody notice the entire freezer melting all over the place?" Ryan asked, and reached for the napkins, shoving aside more of his professor's packets as he went.
"Not until we tried to clean it up," Chad said. "We noticed the smell first."
"And none of the customers complained when they tried to buy any of the stuff out of the freezers?"
Chad scoffed, shaking his head and showering Ryan with more of his mess. "They complained alright. That's the only reason we did anything about the smell."
"That is disgusting." Ryan wiped chocolate goo from his cheek.
"That's Wal-Mart," Chad apologetically handed him a napkin.
"You're not badly hurt are you? I mean--a ladder--"
"I don't know," Chad sighed. "Why don't you check it out?"
Ryan hesitated a moment before slipping his fingers into Chad's sticky curls to check for lumps. Yikes, there was one. And two. And--oh.
Chad, to Ryan's utter embarassment, leaned into his palm, sighing. "That feels nice."
"Um," Ryan said shakily, "me poking the lumps on the back of your head?"
Chad chuckled, eyes fluttering closed. "Yeah, uh-huh. Hurt me, Ry."
Ryan moved to avoid his injuries, blushing furiously. "Did they at least give you ice for this?"
"Yeah. Forehead. See it?" Chad pushed his bangs back and Ryan let his hand drop. Sure enough, there was another small knot near Chad's hairline, but it was nothing compared to the welts at the base of his neck. Ryan scowled.
"Did you hold it on for fifteen minutes?" he asked.
"Yep," Chad slumped back against the chair again, wincing, before a smirk suddenly split his face. "Aw, look. You're worried about me."
Ryan allowed himself a few moments to collect himself before replying very simply, "Yeah. Of course."
Chad grinned like a little boy on Christmas morning. He clearly hadn't been expecting that reply. "Oh. Cool."
Ryan breathed deeply for a few seconds before shoving all of his paperwork back into his shoulder bag. "So how was school?"
Chad chuckled. "You wanna hear about that disaster, too?"
"I want to hear about all of your disasters, Wonderboy. It makes me feel better about myself."
"Speaking of disasters, have you spoken with dear darling Sister?" Chad's hand now gripped the back of Ryan's chair, lacking any of his previous emo.
"No," Ryan said, leaning back to smile curiously. "Why?"
"Did you know Film as Literature satisfies the freshman English requirement here?" Ryan shook his head no. "Well, your sister does, because I told her about it when she decided to sit on my lap in Math class this morning."
Ryan sputtered. "What?!!"
**
"Are you sure this didn't cause any brain damage?" Ryan demanded the next evening, glaring at Chad's forehead as angrily as he could. Chad, arms laden with socks and underwear, frowned at him.
"Of course not. It was just a ladder. Hand over the Tide."
"Then how is this possible?" Ryan asked, planting his hands on his hips and pointedly not passing the detergent. "How is this not some clever act of sabotage or the result of some..some...drunken mishap?"
"Did I give you the impression that it isn't?" Chad stuffed half of his load into the washing machine. The rest ended up on the floor.
"I knew it! How could she? She's so cruel. I bet this is about the scholarship!" Ryan declared, still ignoring the detergent, along with the pile of hot wash at his feet.
"Scholarship?" Chad asked heatedly. "What about my scholarship?"
"Wait a minute! Why were you involved in some drunken mishap with my sister?!!"
"Tell me about my scholarship first."
"You tell me about drunken mishaps with my sister!"
Ding! went the dryer full of their denims.
"Ryan. Pick up these socks. Some of these boxers are yours, man. I'm not supposed to be touching them." You only wish you were, Ryan's paranoia insisted Chad was really thinking.
"Don't change the subject!"
"Then you don't either."
"Well, you already know Sharpay thinks you're stalking me, for whatever stupid reason that might be," Ryan said, failing to acknowledge the socks he was about to pace all over. Chad knew Ryan's pacing when it was coming.
"And it isn't a date or anything," Chad scowled, kneeling to gather up the mess by himself, and there Ryan went, making miniature figure eights all over the speckled tile. "She wanted to thank me for fixing her stupid air conditioner."
"So she's taking you to a basketball game. That costs forty bucks a ticket."
"Yup."
"Is this because of the drunken mishap?" Ryan demanded, and as cute and sweet and funny as Chad was, Ryan was going to kill him.
"It wasn't with her," Chad snapped, and looked like he was about to vomit.
"Is this a date?" Ryan blurted out without thinking, and his heart felt like it was going to crawl its way up his esophagus, burst from his mouth, and strangle Chad with its various tube-y things. "What did she do to you?"
"Oh my god," Chad might be about to throw up. Ryan hoped he was. "You're jealous."
"You hate her," he reminded him, ignoring that last comment.
Chad was absolutely scowling when he hissed through his teeth, "Yeah, well, I'm going to do this, and I'm going to like it."
"Are you kidding me? You're foaming at the mouth!"
"I am not."
"You are too."
"If I am, it's only because you made me touch your underwear. Thanks for giving me rabies. Now give me the detergent!"
"You don't get rabies from underwear!"
"Give me the detergent!"
Ryan groaned and passed the Downey.
**
Two weeks later, Ryan was watching reruns of So You Think You Can Dance when the unthinkable happened.
Chad walked in the door, a child-sized souvenir basketball under one arm. He was smiling like an idiot.
"Oh my god," Ryan said, and was actually a bit terrified. "You've finally managed to get rid of my sister."
Chad's stupid little smirk gave nothing away.
"You mean you actually had a good time with her?" Ryan asked, astonished.
Chad's grin widened, if that was even possible, and he gave a shrug. He was possibly going into shock. Hanging out with Sharpay did that to people. "No. But I'm gonna be meeting her on Saturdays from now on."
When Ryan called Sharpay to find out just how she'd managed to freeze Hell, she didn't answer.
**
And that was that. Suddenly Chad and Sharpay were getting together for top-secret, non-discussable brunches on Saturday mornings.
Ryan, obviously, was not invited.
His sister was a traitor.
**
Part 4