Disclaimer: don't own any of it…………yet……muwhahahaha

Special thanks to:

Song Birdy

mordechaimalachai

x0sharpay0x

XoZac-EfronOx

ZACxTROYxLOVER

spacekitten

ANoRDaE

mannybaby

Braids21

urockon

King of Kings

sharpayxevans

Gorilla22

ZacEfronLuver

Mondler4EvEr

A/N: So, I wasn't going to continue this, but I'm bored, soI decided to write more Once again this story is rated mature, so if you aren't mature don't read it, wow, funny how that works, huh? It's ok the flame me because flames are funny, but if you are going to do it, be ballsy enough to not do it anonymously. Thank you to all my beautiful reviewers! Much Love!

Warning: Twincest ……..psh, as if you didn't know.

Simple

He was watching her from the corner of his eye as he brought the expensive crystal glass up to his lips. His eyes lingered on her features as her lips parted slightly as she listened attentively to the story that their mother was telling at the table, and he focused on the way that she threw her head back as she laughed, her blonde hair sprawling behind her shoulders and down her back.

It wasn't long before she caught sight of him watching her and for the first time that night, the forced smile that had been playing on her beautiful lips, turned into a real one. She could never escape his glances. They were the type of looks that no child should have the pleasure of receiving or giving. They were the type of stares that started at the base of your stomach and grew until there was nothing left of you, except what that person saw. He undressed her with his eyes. He captivated her with his stares, and he owned her in one glance. She was no child.

Their father had begun some witty satire on the bases of politics and the people who surrounded them were wild with laughter and wine. They had learned to laugh when it was necessary. They had learned to fiend attention during parties. They had learned, because without learning there would be mistakes, and there was no room for mistakes when it came to them.

He felt his father pat him roughly on the back as he began to tell his guests what a fantastic young man he was raising. Ryan could barely keep down the bitter laughter that threatened to rise as he acknowledged the fact that his father only praised his son when there were people to impress. His fathers words of confidence would have upset him if it weren't for a pair a lovely brown eyes that he found more interesting. She kept her eyes planted on him without fear of notice, for they were children in the eyes of the people surrounding them, and they bore no importance.

They were both completely, for lack of a better word, fucked up, but what would one expect when parents don't pay attention to how their children are growing up. In late nights of parties and vacations they found comfort in each other because there was no other place to look. Congratulations are in order mom and dad, aren't you proud?

His mother had begun to speak, some mindless toast of some sort, and as Ryan raised his glass his fingers brushed against the top of hers as their glasses crashed together. Her eyebrows raised and a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. It wasn't long before he felt the tips of her toes creeping up the side of his leg. He gulped slightly at the contact and for some reason his clothing began to feel constricting and binding. He looked at her and shot her a glare for having this effect on him and the devilish smirk that graced her features only widened. He cleared his throat and his mother turned to face him.

"Sharpay, don't we have to work on that dance number so we can have it ready for Mrs. Drabus by Monday?"

"I'm sure it can wait, Ryan." Sharpay said as she bit her lip to hide the smirk. He looked at her sharply and one look said it all. No more games Sharpay. "But practice does make perfect. So if we may be excused mother."

Even before their mother gave them the "ok" they walked out of the expensive dining room. Sharpay had barely shut the door to his room before he had her pressed against his light green walls.

"Why must you be so difficult?" He asked quietly as he brought her wrists slowly over her head. His face was just inches from hers and she could feel his warm, mint breath tickling her skin.

"Just part of my charm I guess." she said in a smug voice that was barely above a whisper.

"Now see, that is why people refer to you as Ice Bitch, because you're just too smug." He scolded her. Her expression turned to mock hurt and he laughed at her quietly as he brought his lips up to her ear. "But don't worry, I find your charm intoxicating." And his closeness sent shivers racing down her spine. He held her wrists in one hand and the other laced around her neck, his fingers tangling themselves in her mass of blonde hair. His fingers traced little nonsense designs on the back of her neck and her head arched up slightly and a smile formed on her lips. She was beautiful to look at and heavenly to feel, but who would have ever guessed that the 'Ice Queen' could be manipulated by her lap dogs touch?

He brought his lips to the delicately pale skin of her neck and his teeth grazed her there. He was careful not to leave a mark. He never did. Even without looking at her, he knew that her eyes were shut and she was biting down on those glossy pink lips of hers. His hand left her neck and found rest on her hip, he pulled her closer to him and she squeaked slightly at the sudden movement. He left small kisses on her neck and collar bone and for as long as he could, he avoided her lips. Ryan held the theory in his mind that a kiss was the bases of truth and this was a particular truth that he was never too thrilled about discovering. So he would always hold off kissing her until finally she would grab him by the chin to face her and her eyes would plead to him, and there was no more denying the truth. He would do anything for her. Ryan Evans was in love with his sister, and by God may he be damned.

They made no promises to each other. As they held each other at night, he never insisted that it would never end. She never told him that she would never love another man. They just would lay there in their sin of utter comfort and Ryan would repeat the words, so wrong, so wrong, in his head until, like most words, they held no more meaning in his world of gray, were it's not as simple as black and white.