A/N: I got the idea to write this from a Tumblr prompt revolving around one half of the ship in question being the popular kid at school and noticing the other half eating lunch by themselves.
Instead of my usual Tryan, I decided to give Sharpay/Peyton a go, since that ship also deserves infinitely more love.
As always, I have absolutely no ownership claims on any recognizable properties.
Happy Beginning
Day after day, he sits at the same table in a secluded corner of the cafeteria, away from the brainless stoners, skateboarding burn-outs, academic nerds, and basketball robots.
At first glance, Sharpay Evans reasons that it's easy to see why- the kid is tall, like a towering blond giant. His body isn't rippling with any discernible muscle, and he has plump lips. Sharpay imagines that the new kid has been on the receiving end of many a nasty quip about his "lady lips". Possibly even something along the lines of the comments she's overheard her "fellow classmates" making about a certain activity that her flamboyant twin brother's mouth would be good for.
In any case, after a week of watching the new boy eat from his bagged lunch and alternate between studying the pages of a textbook, and much more curiously, fiddling with a pretty expensive looking camcorder, Sharpay takes it upon herself to make his acquaintance.
After all, if she wants to be famous, she needs as many people as possible to know her name. And, it wouldn't hurt if one of those people happened to have a camera on him.
She vacates her seat on the Drama Club's balcony, silencing any forming questions with a pointed glare, struts down the staircase onto the main floor of the cafeteria, and saunters over to the new boy's table. "Is this seat taken?" She chirps, plastering on a winning smile.
The boy jolts, caught off-guard by her sudden appearance. "Um, no." His voice is deep, carrying much more bass to it than Sharpay expected.
That's… interesting.
His eyes, blue, pan down Sharpay's body, and his breath seems to catch in his throat as he takes in the curve of her popped out hip.
Sharpay's smile shifts into something more like a smirk, and she drops into the seat beside him. "I'm Sharpay. Evans. I'm sure you've heard of me. My brother and I have starred in all of East High's theatrical productions."
"Oh yeah?" The new boy closes his textbook to give her his full, undivided attention, something that, surprisingly, makes Sharpay's heart beat faster. She is, of course, used to being the center of everyone's attention. But, seeing the new boy break his routine for her…
She ignores the rate of her pulse, and keeps her focus on the new boy as he offers her his hand.
"My name is Peyton Leverett. My family moved here from Indiana a few weeks ago."
He's from the Mid West. Of course he is. None of the boys native to this back water town offer their hands to anyone, especially not a girl like Sharpay, for a handshake. Except Troy Bolton, but Troy is closer to a fairy tale prince than a typical high school jock. Most of the time, any way.
Sharpay scrunches up her nose almost reflexively as images of endless cornfields fill her mind. Still, the Mid West is closer to Rhode Island, where Sharpay and her family originally hail from, and New York City, than East High and the rest of pitiful little Albuquerque could ever dream of being. She hates History, but she did manage to gather that much from the unit on Geography. Any time New York comes up in conversation, she's all ears.
She hesitates for a moment, still thrown off by such a weirdly sincere and old-fashioned gesture, then takes Peyton's hand and gives it a firm shake. His hand is big, easily covering hers, but his skin is oddly smooth- something else that she wasn't expecting. When she pulls away, she allows her fingertips to brush his, and feels a trill of satisfaction as he shivers slightly. "So, why did your family decide to move to Albuquerque? Big fans of the desert?"
Peyton chuckles. "My siblings and I grew up in a small, Catholic community. My parents- well, my dad, thought it would be good for me to see how people outside of the Catholic bubble operate before I moved to New York City for college."
"New York City, you say?" Sharpay leans into Peyton, shoving his lunch aside.
"Uh, yeah." He breaks into a grin. He's obviously been eager to gush about this to someone, but hasn't had the opportunity. Until now. "I want to be a director. My dream is to attend NYU, enter one of my films into a festival, and have it generate enough buzz that, before I know it, I'm packing my bags and headed to Hollywood."
Normally, Sharpay would tune such rambling out, roll her eyes at such relentless optimism. She'd scoff to herself, "Yeah, you and every other nerd with a camera, out there."
But something about this new boy, this Peyton with his wide smile, plump lips, and big but gentle hands keeps her from showing him why she's earned a reputation as the school's "Ice Queen".
When the bell rings to signal the end of the period, and Peyton asks if he'll see her around, she can't find it in herself to offer up a scathing remark, or flip her hair and strut off without a response.
She simply smiles and says, "We'll see."