Wow, this just came out of nowhere! lol. I had a thought, started writing and finished in about an hour. New record, whoo! XD

This is a Jimpay, although it doesn't seem so at first. Don't worry: the description is not about him. You'll see. C:

Also: This is loosely based off a song by JoJo, entitled: "Boy Without a Heart". Literally, I used a couple limes from it. But this isn't a songfic, so you wouldn't know there there unless you listen to the song - which I suggest! :D

Please review!

-ssn

I'd Like to Think

(a Oneshot)

Sharpay clicked open her pen and stabbed it into the restaurant table.

She was in love with a boy who didn't have a heart. It was a constant battle. She felt everything in the world for him, but knew in her heart that he'd never feel it too. It was hard to even blame him for it. It was just who he was. Troy Bolton didn't know how to love.

And she loved him too much.

Sharpay began to beat the pen down on the table's surface. She was so angry. He didn't treat her right, but she couldn't convince her heart to leave him. With each thought of Troy's faults, she stabbed harder, deeper. Tears soaked her face. It just wasn't fair! She deserved a nice, respectable guy—someone who was capable of love. Someone to give her everything he had, no questions asked. Was that too much to ask?

"Excuse me, Miss," suddenly said a waiter.

Sharpay took a shudder of a breath and dropped the pen. She looked up at the boy. He was young, probably no older than she herself, with a quirky face. He held a tray of dirty dishes in one hand. The boy smiled, forgiveness in his eyes.

"I think smashing your pen into the table is called: vandalism."

One last tear traveled down her face. She turned away and wiped it off. Darn him for interrupting her.

"What's it called when a stupid girl falls in love with a man incapable of love?" she snapped, chewing up his words and spitting them back in his face. Sharpay dug in her purse for a tissue, unaware of the concern he stared at her with.

"I'd call that a broken heart," he said softly.

Sharpay ceased her search and looked back at him, surprised, vulnerable. When the realization of his words truly touched her, Sharpay moaned and began to cry again. The boy walked away. Of course he would say something incredible and considerate, then turn around when she finally reacted. Sharpay buried her head in her arms, leaning across the table, weeping.

Someone settled down in the booth. At the motion, Sharpay glanced up. Her make-up was ruined, but the same boy sat there and smiled sadly.

"I thought you left," she said, weakly.

"I had to drop the dirty dishes off," he replied. "I felt sitting a tray of them between us would ruin the heart-to-heart." The boy smiled.

Sharpay snorted, a sort of laugh. She rested her head sideways, across her arms.

"I don't think I want to open up to a stranger."

"Then let's not be strangers." He extended a hand. "Hi, I'm Jimmie."

Sharpay sniffed and looked at him, contemplating, bursting at the seams from stress. She gave a small, reluctant smile.

"Sharpay."

He cocked a brow, widening his smile. "With a name like that, Sharpay, this story is bound to be just as unique."

Sharpay rolled her eyes, and wiped her nose with a balled up tissue. She sat back against the red, vinyl booth with a sigh.

"It's nothing new. Just classic Sharpay behavior. Doesn't know when to give up."

Jimmie watched her with concerned eyes. "I don't think you're the only one to blame."

"How would you know?" she snapped.

"It takes two to tango. And if I remember correctly, your dance partner isn't too familiar with the steps." He raised his brows. Sharpay chuckled bitterly once again.

"God, you couldn't be more right. Troy's just so...," she gathered her words carefully, "disconnected." Jimmie nodded. "I mean, he wouldn't know I was in pain if it bit him in the face."

"Wow. That's pretty bad," Jimmie smiled, laughing. Sharpay laughed, then shrugged.

"I wish he was that bad: I would've kicked him to the curb ages ago. But no, Troy Bolton is a charming son-of-a-gun; I'll give him that." She looked away.

"Charming and heartless—that sounds way unfair to me," he leaned forward, kneading his fingers together.

Sharpay shook her head. "You have no idea." Jimmie refused to take his eyes off of her. Sharpay decided he deserved the same respect. She relented and turned to face him again.

She thought for a moment, before speaking once more.

"You know, it wouldn't been so bad if I … if I," she got choked up. Sharpay put a hand over her mouth, tears trailed down her cheeks. She shrugged through her silent cries, and finished, "If I hadn't fallen for him."

Jimmie placed his warm, kind hand over her free one. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been prying in the first place."

Sharpay sighed, refusing to give in to more sobs, shaking her head. "No, no. I needed to say it out loud." She gave him a sly smile, wiping the last of her tears. "You're not so bad a listener either."

Jimmie laughed. "I'd be an even better listener if I could provide some kind of sound advice. But," he shrugged, "I'm not sure I can."

"I knew what I had to do. I broke up with him tonight." She sighed shakily.

"Oh." He was silent for a moment. But then he looked up at her with a smile. "Good for you, Sharpay. A man like Troy doesn't deserve a woman like you."

In response, Sharpay glanced down at the table and realized Jimmie was still holding her hand. She looked back up at him, softly.

"Um...," he pulled away. He looked over the near-empty shop and sighed. "Well," he started, "I should probably get back." Sharpay nodded. Jimmie stood up and looked down at her. "It was nice talking to you, Sharpay. I hope there'll be no more vandalism, though."

She laughed, "Put it on my tab."

"Oh!" Jimmie laughed back. When it died down, he looked at her seriously. "I hope you find what you need."

She nodded with furrowed brows and watched as he smiled one last time and walked away. She curled up her open palm. A strange sensation tingled her nerves. She reopened her hand and saw that in it was a scrap of paper. Written on the paper was a phone number, and underneath: If you ever need someone to listen. -JZ

Sharpay smiled. She grabbed her bags and headed for the door. Just as she pushed it open, Jimmie came back from the kitchen. They looked at each other. Finally, he smiled and waved. Sharpay waved back.

"Thanks, Jimmie," she said, quietly.

"Hey, just promise me we'll have more late-night talks like this. It's too fun to not be repeated."

She laughed. "Maybe next time I won't be so teary-eyed."

Jimmie raised his shoulders and watched her sweetly, "Whatever you need."

Sharpay gave him one more smile and left the restaurant. The beginning of the night hadn't been great, to say the least, but now Sharpay could rightly say: There really were good guys out there. And Jimmie was rightly one of them.