Stacy in Bloom Chapter 21: Never Gonna Give You Up, a kids incorporated fanfic

.21.

"Never Gonna Give You Up"

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

.xxxxx.

The next week passed by in more or less a complete blur, as the Kids – and their audience – hustled to get through their finals at school. Suddenly, it wasn't such an uncommon appearance to see books and papers strewn across the tables at the P*lace, or the spacious interior of the Garage. It amused Ryan when his bandmates started asking for study breaks instead of soda breaks at practice, but he could certainly understand their desperation. He considered himself to be a pretty good student, but even he was feeling the pressure brought on by the close of a semester. Between drama with the band, the cold war versus Brian, and his Juilliard application, he hadn't been quite as on top of his schoolwork as he usually was.

With a bit of urging, he managed to convince Stacy that their shared study time at school would be better spent working in the library, though it was rather difficult to get any actual studying done. She had taken to resting her head against his shoulder as she thumbed through her class notes, making him all too aware of her constant and very near presence. It made it hard for him to concentrate on such immaterial things as the long list of dates corresponding to the Hundred Years' War that he was supposed to be memorizing for his history exam. At the same time, however, he didn't begrudge her presence. He remembered how tough it had been the first time he'd taken finals in high school, and he did his best to bolster her confidence in her academic abilities.

When she wasn't studying her class notes (as freshman exams were spaced out further than those for upperclassmen), she was studying him, and he could never quite feel comfortable being the object of such close scrutiny. Any time he looked at her, he noted a dreamy, faraway cast to her expression, and wondered what, exactly, was so fascinating about himself that it would elicit such a reaction. Watching someone else study was about as thrilling as watching paint dry, in his opinion. When, at the last, his curiosity got the best of him, he was surprised to suddenly be inundated with questions about his plans for their big date in a week's time. He'd steadfastly refused to give her details, not wanting to ruin the surprise he'd been working on for her over the last few weeks; only when she reminded him of the fact that her parents didn't know about or approve of their relationship did he concede a bit of ground. They were going back into the city, he informed her, for – if she could manage it – the entire day.

He couldn't wait. And, by the look of her expression when he told her that, neither could she.

Their relationship might have been holding steady, but the end-of-the-year crunch wasn't as kind to everyone else. There was such a hue and cry raised about not having enough study time during one afternoon rehearsal that Ryan suggested the band not perform during the final two weeks of school. The others looked at him with collective horror, as if he'd just suggested burning down the P*lace or something equally unthinkable.

It had only been a joke, brought on by his annoyance at their complaining, but it led to a pretty serious discussion of the band, their performance schedule, and the time commitment it demanded of them. Kenny and Connie wanted to seriously consider a hiatus during finals week, but they were outvoted by the others. Secretly, Ryan was glad of it – performing was something of a stress relief for him (and, he suspected, the others). It allowed him to put the craziness of the week into perspective and blow off a little steam at the same time – and, judging by the others' reactions, it served some sort of useful purpose for them as well.

The group did make a few temporary changes, though. Taking a page out of Richie's book, the others dragged a couple of the stools from Riley's counter on stage, and began playing truly stripped down sets, picking simple songs with strong harmonies or instrumentation that allowed the others to show off their newly acquired skills. Ryan rocked the house with his take on George Michael's "Faith," Devyn led a beautiful rendition of the Beatles' "Help!," and even Richie got into the spirit of things, leading a lovely cover of Ben E. King's "Stand by Me."

By the time Friday rolled around, Ryan had forgotten about how anxious he'd felt about retaking his place in the band. The group's popularity hadn't waned in the least with him on stage, though he wasn't sure he'd ever get over the disconcerting feeling of having a gaggle of lovestruck girls watching his every move. It was a bit amusing – he'd never really noticed fangirls before – and more than a bit unnerving, because he could practically feel the collective swell of jealousy whenever he paid a modicum of attention to Stacy on stage. It was an ugly reminder of Brian's master plan of audience manipulation, and yet another seed of doubt planted in Ryan's mind about this so-called bargain. Their afternoon audiences were mostly populated by kids from the middle school; playing on their loyalties could very well prove disastrous.

The band's trepidation over Brian's cunning plan was soothed somewhat by the time that first Saturday concert rolled around. As it turned out, he wasn't asking for much – and he'd done his homework, attending each and every one of the afternoon sets to observe the audience. That, together with his notes from previous performances (which, if Ryan was totally honest with himself, he found it a little creepy than he'd actually taken notes), had culminated in a fairly simple set piece of production, mercifully devoid of any choreography. Ryan wasn't too happy about the fact that he didn't have a say in picking the song, but had ultimately agreed to Brian's choice – he'd been dying to bring in some music with a bit more edge to it than their usual fare of happy pop covers.

With a bit of work, discussion, and compromise, the band had mastered it rather quickly. The performance itself was flawless, much to everyone's satisfaction. Near the end of their Saturday night show, Stacy and Devyn positioned themselves at opposite corners of their middle riser, swaying along to the beat of the mid-tempo ballad. The song was Foreigner's "Say You Will," and they were singing an improvised harmony of the chorus. The audience – and mixture of ages, some familiar faces as well as new, curious ones – seemed primed for whatever was to come, easily enraptured by the girls' perfected sound – as well as Ryan's sudden appearance on stage, emerging from the depths of the dance corps sans guitar.

He descended into the audience under the glare of the spotlight as the first verse began, climbing the stairs of the riser behind the girls, who turned back to look at him on cue. Though he'd been instructed to look straight ahead, his eyes instead drifted down to his right, where Stacy sat, gazing up at him adoringly. He just couldn't help it – whenever they were together on stage, he was drawn to her, as if they were the only two people in the room, and the rest of the world just seemed to melt away…

When he did rouse himself from his reverie, turning his attention to his other "admirer," Devyn, his expression shifted from dreamy to amused – the younger girl was staring at him with a big dumb grin on her face, totally enjoying the moment. He finished his verse and turned around, descending the steps as the girls launched into the chorus. He circled around the riser on Stacy's side, settling himself in the middle between the girls. This time, according to Brian, he was supposed to his attention to each girl for exactly half of the second verse, but again he found himself lingering on his girlfriend, unable – or, maybe unwilling – to fight the natural chemistry that blossomed between them.

A slow smile curved over his mouth as Stacy rested her hand on his shoulder, the song building to its highest point in the final chorus, and he could plainly see that she was just as affected by their strong attraction as he was, her eyes glittering in the golden glow of the spotlight. He was nearly jolted out of his skin when Devyn grabbed his other shoulder and pulled him towards her, and he couldn't help but crack a smile. She was having serious fun with it, really playing it up to an obvious degree, so he did the same, gazing back at her plaintively. Kenny and Connie joined them on the riser as the song swelled into a close, and when the final note was struck, the audience very nearly erupted out of their seats with applause.

Obviously, song number one had gone perfectly to plan.

Well, almost.

Beyond the starstruck expressions of Devyn's friends down front (and the cat-calling, whistle-blowing noises coming from the displeased contingent of Stacy's admirers further back), Ryan had noticed the one group he'd hoped he wouldn't see once this plan was set into motion. They hadn't shown up during the afternoon sets at all that week, and, perhaps foolishly, he'd let down his guard, thinking that maybe they'dd found some other way to occupy their time on Saturday nights as well.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Stubbs McKinsey and his band of bone-headed baseball players were staring straight at him, their expressions an odd mixture of total disbelief and amusement, hiding behind Cheshire-cat-like smirks.

.xxxxx.

"Well, well, well."

Ryan paused momentarily, his eyes falling shut as the snarl of a voice washed over him. He'd been dreading this moment for the last two days, and had spent most of that morning attempting to avoid it.

"All hail the king of the feebs!" crowed Steiger, still from behind him.

"Cradle robber," Bobby put in gleefully.

"I never took you for the type to chase a piece of junior high tail," Stubbs drawled.

Ryan kept walking, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging them. Of all the possible scenarios to arise from playing along with Brian's oh-so-cunning publicity plan for the band, this was what'd made him vacillate the most about the whole endeavor. He didn't play along with the rigid high school social strata, but he was acutely aware of how it would judge him, and Stacy, now that news of their involvement had spread. He didn't care that she was three years younger than he was, but to everyone else, their age difference was the first – and most glaring – thing they saw.

He would have been content to just ignore them and their juvenile teasing, but found himself stopped short when Michael, the quiet one, suddenly stepped in his path. "How could you?" he hissed, a hurtful glare etched into his features.

Before Ryan could answer, Stubbs chimed in once again. "Yes, how could you?" he chided, throwing his arm around Ryan's shoulders and giving him a playful squeeze. "Seriously, Ryan – slumming for freshmen? Look at yourself! You could have any chick at this school!" The big, blocky boy topped off this remark with a 'you're one of us!' smile, waving his free hand at the other members of the senior baseball squad, as if to indicate that they were responsible for his supposedly-envied social status by virtue of their association alone.

Ryan worked hard to control the rush of anger that burned through him as he looked from one teammate to the next, each wearing that same, stupid, twisted smirk – save Michael, who looked seriously angry and hurt. The one I want is her, he thought, and I shouldn't have to explain that to you guys – nor take heat for dating a freshman, or being friends with middle-schoolers. His friends were more than just their age to him. They worked hard on Kids Incorporated, and the fact that they were so different and yet still such good friends is what made the band so special.

He turned his attention to Stubbs, who was still laughing and joking with his friends, his arm a heavy weight on Ryan's shoulders. He considered the bulky team captain for a moment, his memory fading back to the previous year. It seemed a lot of the locker room chatter after practice and between games had focused on finding/dating/leering at girls. No girl at the high school was exempt, or so it seemed to Ryan, who, admittedly, had only half-listened to the conversations. At one point, Stubbs and his pals had even put together a ratings list of the girls from that year's graduating class, an exercise Ryan thought pointless and cruel – so he didn't participate in the antics.

It'd be useless trying to reason with him, Ryan decided. He thinks of girls as objects to be conquered, instead of human beings in their own right.

As Ryan was studying Stubbs, he became aware that Stubbs was staring just as intently at him, and he felt his stomach weaken a little bit. It was obvious that Stubbs and crew weren't done with him yet – and wouldn't be, until he'd given them the reaction they were fishing for.

"For her, though, I'd consider it," Stubbs announced, tightening his grip on Ryan's shoulders. "Slumming, I mean – I don't usually go for fresh meat, but she looks like a tasty little morsel. So tell me – what's she like between the sheets? And how willing are you to share? Maybe the rest of us would like a turn under that skirt!"

Ryan felt nothing but heat and rage at that moment, but before he could act on it – and potentially embarrass himself, right there in the hallway – Michael shoved Stubbs roughly, breaking the captain's hold on Ryan's shoulders. He looked as angry as Ryan felt, though on the surface of it, he had no reason to be.

Stubbs found the maneuver funny. "Geez, Mike, be cool!" he admonished with a thin smile. "You can have her next if you're so hot to trot!" He glanced back at Bobby and Steiger, who were now flanking him. "The rest of us are having our needs taken care of."

Steiger's eyes lit up as they fell upon Ryan, who was still working to keep his temper in check. "Are you kidding?" he drawled. "Ryan here is practically a saint! I've never heard a word spoken against him, have you? In fact," he continued, taking a step closer and grabbing Ryan's chin, his thumb and index finger pressing into the corners of his jaw, "I'll bet he hasn't even made it to second base with this chick yet!"

Ryan narrowed his eyes, doing his best to look unimpressed as he wrenched out of Steiger's hold. The rest of them were laughing uproariously, as if Steiger was incredibly clever to use the old, crude baseball metaphor.

"I don't know," Bobby mused. "The way she was looking at him on Saturday night? I certainly hope he's getting some from her!"

"Adoration like that only comes once in a little girl's life," Stubbs observed knowingly.

Ryan's hands fisted at his sides, the desire to punch one – if not all – of their sneering faces becoming more overwhelming with each passing second. He wasn't a violent person, prone to lashing out with his fists rather than his words, but it was very definitely one thing to insult him, and quite another to insult her. Stacy had done nothing to warrant their cruel remarks, and using her to get to him? That was weak. It was obvious that they were pushing him, testing him, trying to make him admit that he was ashamed of this relationship. He thought back to what he'd told Stacy last week: I don't want to hide in dark closets with you forever.

It was true. He didn't. And he felt no shame in admitting that.

Maybe, Ryan considered as he stared long and hard at his teammates, they were the ones who felt shamed. It had been scarcely a month since they had all been openly drooling over her, proclaiming her hot and worthy of their attention, and wheedling him into setting up an introduction. Maybe – now that it had somehow been made real to them, that she really was just a freshman, and yet still worthy of a senior's attention – it was them who felt uncomfortable, unable to reconcile the fact that they found her attractive with the fact that they thought her – quite literally – beneath them.

"Look," he said shortly, swallowing his anger as best he could, "it's really none of your business what we have or haven't done. Some guys don't kiss and tell." He shrugged, relaxing his hands flat against his sides, but kept a sharp eye on those he was addressing. "I'm sorry she blew you guys off from the start, but the fact of the matter is, we've been together for a couple of months now. She was never free, and never interested."

Stubbs narrowed a challenging glare at Ryan. "Oh yeah? We'll just see about that," he retorted in a low voice. "Good luck trying to keep a good-looking girl like that to yourself. Who knows? Maybe once she gets a taste of the world beyond what you're able to offer her, she'll find out what satisfaction really means." He shrugged, elbowing Bobby and Steiger in the ribs and signaling that he was ready to go. "All I'm saying is – watch yourself. You're not nearly as badass as you think you are."

And you're not as clever as you think you are, Ryan thought darkly, watching the trio walk away, Michael trailing a few steps behind them. If you think you can steal her away, you've got another thought coming.

.xxxxx.

The final week of the semester was a long, tough slog. For the members of Kids Incorporated, it felt like they were doing little more than studying feverishly, freaking out while taking their tests, rehearsing like fiends, performing briefly, and somehow falling asleep at the end of every day, only to get up and repeat the cycle come morning.

Finally, however, Friday rolled around – sweet, merciful, no-performance Friday.

That afternoon, the group drifted in the store room backstage at the P*lace, and proceeded to drape themselves across the various pieces of furniture in somewhat dramatic fashion.

"Sleep," Richie murmured from his spot at one of the vanities, his head tucked into his folded arms. "Precious sleep!"

Connie was sprawled out on the floor. "I thought finals would never be over," she moaned with a low sigh.

"But I'm glad they finally are," Devyn replied agreeably from her perch in the ratty old armchair across the room. She slung her legs over one of the arms and settled in place. "I think to celebrate, we should do 'School's Out' tomorrow night!"

The younger kids giggled at the thought, just as Kenny came trudging through the garish pink door.

"Hi, guys," he greeted them glumly.

Devyn immediately sat up in her seat. "Kenny!" she said, her face etched with concern. "What's wrong?"

"I have bad news," he replied, slinging his backpack to the ground and sinking into a seat at a nearby table.

Ryan wasn't paying attention to the conversation around him. He was sitting across from Stacy at the long table in the middle of the room. A book was open in front of him, but he wasn't looking at it, either. Instead, his eyes lingered on his girlfriend, who was sitting as silently as he was and paging through a magazine. In contrast to him, she was completely engrossed in her reading material, her lips quirking into a smile each time she ran across something amusing. She seemed relaxed and radiant, no trace of the anxiety or fear that had claimed her during her first, rough run through high school final exams.

He might not understand why she found him fascinating, but he could look at her forever and never get enough – he loved to let his eyes linger, tracing every delicate feature. She was wearing her hair long that day, shiny and full and falling over her shoulders in waves of soft curls. She had yet to unpin the flower he'd given her that morning, an unusually dark colored winter rose, one that was striking in its contrast to her honey-blonde locks. At some point – he wasn't sure when, but he'd only just noticed it – she'd taken to matching her lipstick to the flower as well…and, well, that made it hard not to stare at her mouth, especially when she was smiling, a hint of white beyond ruby red lips.

It still struck him as slightly amazing to know that he could kiss those lips whenever he wanted, and it was probably during downtime at rehearsals when it was hardest to resist the urge. Just as he was trying to think up some excuse to get her alone and away from the others for a minute – they had arrived separately to rehearsal, straggling in with the younger kids as their finals ended at school – she glanced up, meeting his gaze, those lips curving into a knowing smile.

He smiled back. They kept their distance at rehearsal, living up to their promise to keep their relationship on its own time and not the band's, and it really was for the best. Any time he was alone with her, aside from the good feelings that bubbled up inside him, there was also the memory of Stubbs's threat. He hadn't seen any of the other baseball players since the ugly confrontation in the hallway on Monday, but the atmosphere between teammates had definitely lost its playful camaraderie. Nevertheless, he'd decided to keep the guys' crude teasing to himself; he knew if he told Stacy about it, it'd only upset her, and that was the last thing he wanted. Between the scrutiny of their classmates and the band's loyal fans, it had already been a rocky coming-out party for their relationship.

What she didn't know couldn't hurt her.

"Earth to Ryan," she teased.

He blinked, breaking himself from his thoughts. "What?" He glanced up, noticing the long faces surrounding him. Devyn and Kenny were sitting together on the armchair, while Richie had propped himself up at the vanity and Connie was standing beside him, no longer sprawled on the floor. "What's going on?"

"I have bad news," Kenny repeated with a sigh. "My family's going on vacation next week. Well, my mom and my brothers and my sister and I are." He shrugged, averting his eyes to the floor. "She wants to take us to Charleston to visit her family before Christmas."

Ryan felt his stomach twist. It was obvious Kenny wasn't looking forward to a family vacation without his father, and what that meant for the future of his parents' marriage.

"I'm really sorry," Kenny murmured. "I'm going to miss rehearsal all next week for the New Year's Eve party. I hope that doesn't mess up the plans too much…or else I guess I could always just not perform…"

"Not perform?" Ryan repeated incredulously. He shook his head. "That's not going to happen. All this means is that we need to start working on it before you go. We'll still have a week to pull things together when you get back – that's usually when we start working with the dancers anyway."

"And speaking of dancers," Stacy sighed. "What are we going to do about Brian and the final number? We're supposed to choose, after all – to finally 'reveal our relationship' to one and all, as if it wasn't already obvious."

"I don't know," Devyn contended. "You guys are definitely the talk of my class at school. Everyone loves the flirting, but they're about evenly split on whether it's more than that."

I wish my classmates were still in the dark, Ryan thought wryly. "Well, I'm not too concerned about that just yet," he said instead. "It's just one number of about twenty, after all. We should start trying to pull together a list of songs we want to perform. There are a couple that we do every year, because its tradition, but the rest? It's totally up to us to choose."

Kenny shook his head, his eyes wide. "Where do you even begin?" he asked.

Connie nodded. "The possibilities are endless!"

Ryan smiled. "Well, we usually start by going through the entire year of Billboard," he replied, pointing to the Kids' collection of magazines piled in the corner. "It's hard to remember what all the biggest songs were by the end of the year, especially after finals have fried our brains."

"Oooh, good idea," Devyn agreed, pouncing on the stack. "Come on, you guys, let's start going through these!" She, Kenny, Connie, and Richie dived for the magazines.

Ryan retrieved a fresh piece of composition paper. "I'll start making the list," he announced, writing down the traditional lineup of songs near the top. "Just call out the possibilities, okay? Then we'll narrow it down from there."

Stacy went up front to see if the year-end issue had arrived yet – it had gigantic, fold-out charts of the year-ending Billboard Hot 100 singles and Top 200 albums in the back – while the others settled in with stacks of back issues. Every once in a while one of them would call out the title of a song, and Ryan would dutifully write it down, along with other notes to keep in mind: how many numbers the dancers would need to work up, which songs would work best for which singer, and a reminder to call Tommy Morgan and bring him back on board for rehearsals, starting next week.

He was beginning to feel excited, the fatigue of the semester's end quickly melting away with the anticipation of planning this big project. There was only one more Saturday night concert to get through before they could throw all of their energy into planning this, their biggest performance of the year. They were already hanging signs around the neighborhood to advertise, but somehow, it hadn't felt real until now.

Stacy returned, empty-handed. "Nothing yet," she sighed. "Riley said it probably wouldn't be here until next week." She sat down beside Ryan to look at his notes.

"Wow, I had no idea the Dirty Dancing soundtrack charted for so many weeks," Devyn noted. "Months, even."

Kenny looked up. "It's on your charts, too?" he asked. "Because I'm looking at May and it's the #1 album. How's that for crazy?"

"I just love the final number from that movie," Connie sighed with a reminiscent smile. "I could re-watch that dance over and over again and never get enough."

Richie looked up suddenly, a huge grin cracking the corners of his face. He began to wriggle like an excited puppy, much to the bemusement of his bandmates.

"Are you okay?" Stacy asked, lifting a concerned brow.

"That's it!" he cried, not even acknowledging her words. "That's it, that's it, that's it!"

"What's it?" Kenny asked.

"That's our final number!" Richie said triumphantly, standing up and throwing his arms out wide.

The others simply stared at him, a mixture of concern and skepticism clouding their expressions. Richie was well known for his wild and crazy ideas, and by now, his bandmates knew that it was usually best to just ride them out. His schemes rarely harmed anyone…well, anymore.

"Don't you get it?" Richie continued. "It fulfills all of the requirements!" He glanced from Kenny to Devyn to Connie to Ryan and Stacy as he spoke. "Number one, it's a show-stopper. Number two, it's memorable. Can you imagine how many people would pay to see us recreate that performance? Number three, it's a love song – so it's the perfect piece for Brian's deal that you guys choose something about your relationship! And number four – best of all – it's a dance number."

Stacy nodded, understanding dawning across her features. "Richie, you're a genius!" she declared.

"Now there's a sentence you don't hear every day," Ryan drawled.

Stacy dismissed his comment with the wave of her hand. "No, it's really perfect if you think about it. If we can get the dancers to agree to do that infamous final dance – "

" – it'll put Brian out front," Ryan concluded, warming to the idea with an approving nod. "Which is what I suspect he's wanted all along."

"You don't think he'd let Dee do it?" Connie asked.

Ryan shook his head. "No way. A chance to recreate the most famous dance of the last decade? He's going to want it for himself."

Kenny looked at the others thoughtfully, taking in their growing excitement. "So let me get this straight," he mused. "You guys will still be singing a schmoopy love song, but because it's this schmoopy love song, all the attention will be on him instead?"

Devyn nodded. "It's like beating him at his own game," she put in. "But he won't even realize it, because he's going to be getting the attention he wanted all along – and he won't be able to humiliate Ryan or Stacy or the rest of us to earn it."

"Then we're all in agreement about this?" Ryan asked, only to be met with a chorus of nodding heads. He grinned. "Awesome. I haveta say, I'm impressed! I like the way you guys think."

Devyn smiled. "We have to stick up for each other, you know," she reminded him enthusiastically.

"And it's such a memorable number that if we advertise that we're going to perform it, we'll have a gigantic crowd," Connie added.

"Think of all that money!" Richie breathed, his eyes growing wide.

"Yes, think of all that money going to repay Riley," Ryan corrected him wryly. "First, though, we have to make sure this happens. Here's hoping Brian thinks it's just as good a plan as we do – though obviously for different reasons!"

.xxxxx.

Much to the band's surprise and delight, Brian was completely agreeable to the idea of concluding the New Year's Eve concert with a full-scale, true-to-life recreation of the famous final dance from Dirty Dancing. He didn't offer the slightest hint of skepticism or curiosity as to why the others were so insistent on the song, and it quickly became clear why when he laid out his plans for the final, flirty Saturday night number.

Ryan pursed his lips as he stood in the wings of the stage that Saturday night, watching as the others set up for their final number. His grip on the microphone was hot and clammy. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd performed in the last four years without his guitar, but, unlike tonight, those had all been by choice.

From the moment Brian mentioned the name of the song he wanted them to perform, Ryan had been against the idea. Rick Astley had one-hit wonder written all over him and his cheesy pop sensibilities, but it seemed Ryan was alone amongst his friends in harboring that opinion. When Brian outlined the performance notes that went along with the song, he'd flat out refused to do it. It had taken the entire band begging him to play along – and Stacy promising to make it worth his while – for him to concede his position.

He could only hope Stubbs and his cronies weren't in the audience tonight, because they'd never let him live this one down.

It was a shame, too, because the concert had been a total success to that point. The girls had led a sassy rendition of Dolly Parton's early '80s crossover hit "9 to 5" to kick things off, a performance which had only been topped by a rousing cover of Alice Cooper's classic "School's Out" which had every kid in the P*lace singing, stomping, and dancing along. There was obviously a lot of excess energy to blow off now that winter vacation had officially begun.

And, now, it had come down to this – Ryan sacrificing himself on the altar of dignity in order to insure a large crowd at the New Year's Eve party. He tried to tell himself it was worth it, but the only measure of consolation he took was in the fact that none of his bandmates looked too jazzed about the idea, either. Brian had obviously chosen well, however; when the music began, the already wound-up audience let loose a great cheer, which sounded suspiciously like the swoon of preteen fangirls.

Ryan made sure to shoot Brian a dirty look as he ambled on stage, in order to make his disappointment crystal clear. Brian merely smirked in response, twirling out of the spotlight as the first verse of the song began.

"We're no strangers to love," Ryan began, walking across the stage to where his girlfriend stood, her cheeks stained red and her eyes downcast. "You know the rules and so do I / a full commitment's what I'm thinking of / but you wouldn't get this from any other guy..."

Another rush of cheers sounded as Kenny, Connie, and Devyn bounced onstage behind Stacy, half-leading, half-dragging Ryan back to the opposite corner as he continued to sing out to his beloved. "I just want to tell you how I'm feeling," he sang plaintively, "Gotta make you understand…"

He tried hard to concentrate on Stacy as the others launched into the chorus behind him, but now, he was all too aware of the audience around them – he couldn't just melt into their own, private little world. It didn't help that she was looking anywhere but at him, like she was embarrassed to be serenaded – almost as embarrassed as he was to be doing it.

Undeterred, he soldiered on through the song, taking the second verse into the crowd – and onto the riser standing in the middle of the stage. He smiled flirtatiously at the dancers who flanked him, all the while sneaking glances out into the audience. When he was satisfied that his baseball "buddies" weren't darkening the corners of the room, he relaxed a bit – until he turned to Kimberly and winced at the way she was beating up his precious guitar. It had been Brian's brilliant idea to let the girls mock-play guitars for the number, but Ryan had been hard-pressed to part with his vintage Fender Strat. He didn't let just anybody touch it, especially someone who obviously had no idea how to play it.

He was relieved to turn and make his way back to the stage for the reprise of the second verse, and he headed straight for Stacy. "We've known each other for so long," he sang, "your heart's been aching but / you're too shy to see…" He was pleased to see that she'd gotten over whatever had been occupying her mind before. She smiled at him now, more than receptive to his flirtatious advances.

"Inside we both know what's been going on," he continued, amused himself when she nodded sagely, "we know the game and we're gonna play it…"

He took her hand and brought her to the middle of the stage as the band launched into the chorus, and together, they walked up to the middle riser. Her grip on his hand was surprisingly strong, and when he glanced over, he recognized that adoring look on her face. As the song drew to a close, he ad-libbed from Brian's script, turning to face her and taking both of her hands in his. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, but the look in his eyes as he gazed at her was one that told her he was going to hold her to her promise to make this embarrassment worth his while.

The audience erupted with manic cheers, with Devyn's friends Emily and Rosie leading the pack right down front. Brian recognized his opportunity and took that exact moment to push between the happy couple, grabbing Ryan's microphone and announcing a reminder to the crowd about the New Year's Eve concert. "You won't want to miss it!" he crowed happily. "It'll be a night to remember!"

Ryan and Stacy exchanged a glance behind his back. He doesn't know the half of it, Ryan mused, reaching for her hand once again.

Stacy pulled him close the moment the show ended, before they went back to join the rest of the band on stage. "There's a day I'm looking forward to more than that one," she admitted in a low tone, as the audience slowly broke up all around them.

"You and me both," he murmured, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. December seventeenth can't come fast enough.