Heavenly Habits

He collapses on the floor in front of the movie screen, breathing heavily as he laughs.

I fall down beside him gasping for air as I giggle.

He looks over at me, a huge grin on his face, bright red lips spread wide apart revealing his perfectly shaped teeth, white as egg shells. His eyes have a mischievous glint in them. I narrow my eyes at him, telling him not to do what I think he's going to do.

Suddenly he's hooked his arm around my neck, pulling my head to his chest. I groan loudly, letting him know how much I hate this even though I revel in his touch. My head against his hard, muscular chest, his pale arm soft and smooth against my throat is my heaven. He laughs and starts to ruffle and muss my hair with his free hand.

I wrestle in his arms, trying to free myself, but his grip is too strong and I am too weak. Weak in my own strength and weak in the fact that I want and crave his touch far more than a friend ever should. I don't actually want him to let go, but I must. Its part of the game, after all.

He laughs a little at my struggle, and then feeling bad pecks the top of my head and falls back on the floor, yanking me down with him.

He instinctively pulls me closer to him and I'm getting weaker. I focus on the screen, I focus as hard as I can on the Von Trapp children for fear of what would happen if I do or think about anything else.

I can't stop thinking about him. He's right here, arm around me, close so close.

I want to be closer to him, even closer. Being the crazy insane idiot that I am, I tuck my head under his chin. I know I shouldn't have, but I wanted to so badly. It's not like its awkward. Ryan's always been my cuddle bear. It's just in these past few years that I've felt like ripping his clothes off when we're this close.

He's pleased with my movement and he starts to play with my hair, satisfied.

I grin and remember the first time I realized Ryan would become so much more than just an elementary school pal.

We were eight years old and were on the playground at school, swinging side by side. I had long hair back then, longer than it is now. It reached my waist and it kept whipping me in my face as I swung. I remember that day so clearly now.

"Ugh, my hair keeps flying into my face," I groaned as I pumped my legs faster and faster and swiped at my hair.

"Put it in a ponytail," Ryan said matter of factly, as if I, a girl, who knows all things about hair, should have realized such a simple solution.

"I think I'm gonna cut it," I said, confidently. "Real short,"

Ryan suddenly stopped swinging and turned to me, big blue eyes wide open with sheer terror.

I stopped as well, scared that he had seen something or hurt himself. "What is it, Ryan?"

"You can't cut your hair," he whispered softly, embarrassed as he reached over and grabbed a long strand of my hair. He pulled on the end of the curl, causing it to spring out of his hand.

"Why not?" I asked, confused. "It always gets in the way."

"Cause, your hair is too pretty to cut, Gabby!" he mumbled shyly. "Please don't cut it."

I blushed and to make him feel better said, "Ok, Ryan, I won't cut it. I won't ever cut it short."

"Really?" he asked, his smile instantly brightening his face.

"Really," I answered grinning back.

And I've had long hair ever since. Never has it been less than several inches beneath my shoulders.

He presses his nose to my hair and I giggle nervously.

"Wait, now you're smelling me," I say, praying I don't sound flirtatious.

"I believe it's my turn," he says and makes a show of inhaling the smell of my hair. "Lavender," he remarks. "My favorite."

I smile up at him and my heart is pounding. You see what he does to me? He can't just say these things to his friend.

"I know," I answer, quietly, unsure of what to say.

His attention falls back to the movie and I concentrate on not moving a muscle.

Just as I'm beginning to relax, the doorbell rings. Ryan groans in displeasure, obviously not wanting to get up.

He reluctantly pulls away from me and stretches his arms up and out.

Again with those gorgeous arms. Must he show them off?

I slowly pull myself up into a sitting position and tap his knee.

"Dude, you kinda need to get the door," I say.

"Dude, you wanna get it for me?" he asks, a lazy grin forming.

"Race ya," I scream and jump up, but he's much to quick for me. He's followed suit and already up on his feet.

Before I can get anywhere, he's picked me up by the waist and flung me over his shoulder, racing down the stairs with such speed; you'd think I was lighter than a feather.

"Ryan! Put me down!" I scream, trying my best to sound angry as I laugh. He laughs too and drops me by the door.

"Now we both win," he says with a smile and chucks my chin like I'm a little child.

He reaches a slender hand out and twists the silver doorknob.

"Evan's residence?" a sleepy teenager with shaggy dark hair asks, plastic takeout bags in his tan hands. He looks about our age and I feel his eyes flicker over me like I'm a work of art he's examining.

Ryan notices and his eyes cloud over. He steps in front of me, shielding me from the man's view.

He nods sharply and takes the bags from the guy's hands. "This should cover it," he snarls and slaps a twenty and a ten into his hand.

"You got a problem, man?" he asks, grinning sleazily at me.

Ryan's fists clench around the plastic bags and I touch his arm, begging silently for him to not do anything.

"Fuck off," he says in a low, threatening voice and slams the door in his face. I watch as he deadbolts the door and turns toward me.

"You okay?" he asks quietly. He drops the bag and wraps his arms around me.

I nod against his shoulder, staring off into space.

"I was gonna kill him, but I decided he wasn't worth going to jail for," he jokes.

I giggle a little and he releases me. I stare down at the floor, feeling disgusting. I hate when guys look at me that way, like I'm a piece of meat, something to devour.

Ryan cups my chin and lifts my face up, his eyes staring deeply into mine.

"Are you sure?" he asks again.

"Yes," I answer.

"One of these days, I am gonna get in a serious brawl. I mean between you and Sharpay, the two most beautiful girls in the world…" he trails off, smiling at me.

"Ryan…" I mumble, blushing.

"Its true," he says sweetly. He ducks back down to pick up the food and grabs my hand leading me into the kitchen.

Once there, he sets the bags down on the counter and opens the fridge.

"And your choice of beverage is…" Ryan starts, desperate to push aside the unsettling moment that just occurred. I guess its part of growing up though; things aren't as simple, as innocent. The world isn't what you thought it was.

"Iced tea," I respond brightly, as eager to forget as he is.

"That sounds good. I think I'll have that too," Ryan decides as he pulls a pitcher of fresh tea out of the fridge.

I watch as he pours the tea over the glasses of ice. He's crushed mine, cubed his. His memory of what I love never ceases to amaze me.

I smile unconsciously and he notices. Returning my smile he asks, "What?"

"Nothing," I say shyly. "It's just…its moments like when you remember I like my ice crushed that makes me think of how wonderful you are."

I really didn't mean to offer that much information.

He grins and rattles off, "Two sugar packets, no lemon."

I nod blushing, all thoughts of freaky delivery boy out of my mind.

"And you're the exact opposite, all about the lemon and only half a sugar packet."

"Which you think is completely ridiculous," he adds, smirking.

I giggle. "Well, I mean why not just use all the sugar!"

Ryan laughs. "Cause Sharpay would kill me if I did."

"True," I respond slowly. "But is she here now?" I ask.

Ryan grins evilly and dumps three packages of sugar in his tea. I laugh as he takes a sip and chokes on the sweetness.

"How can you take this much sugar?" he sputters. "Its almost sour." He sticks his tongue out childishly and shudders.

"I've had a lot of practice," I say smoothly.

"Oh, I see," he replies. "Well, I must say, your ability to drink pure sugar is astounding!" He chuckles as he adds more tea to his glass and takes a sip, sighing satisfactorily. "Much better,"

"Can you at least still taste the sugar?"

"I can…sugar pie," he adds, like the dork he is as he breaks into song.

Sugar pie, honey bunch

You know that I love you

Oh I can't help myself

I love you and nobody else

He sings cheerily as he arranges the takeout on the Evans' mahogany table.

I giggle, melting at his velvety voice as we sit down to eat.

So I know it's been two weeks and I'm truly sorry. I've had a tough couple of weeks, but I'm back and hopefully better than ever. Lol

Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next. We had some random talk of tea, a sleazy delivery person, and some cute fluffy moments. I hope you don't find me too strange. Lol.

Thank you readers and reviewers. You guys make me want to write!