Author Note:

Okay kids, I made this one extra long to make up for the lack of length on the past chapter. So hope you enjoy.

Thanks, as always, for the fabulous reviews. Please keep your questions and criticisms coming – they make me write faster and keep me on my creative toes.

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What was going on?

One moment, I was laughing over something completely ridiculous and the next moment Troy was looking at me like…

Like…

And then the next thing I knew, our hands were connected, then his hands were on my face and then his lips were on mine…

And then pure, unadulterated lust just took over.

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Okay, when I started all of this, I had no idea that it would be this good.

The things that this woman can do with her tongue…

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Holy shit.

I'm yelling back to my high-school self and telling her that all of her fantasies were totally true. He was that…

Holy shit.

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What was that sound?

Is she moaning?

Am I making her moan?

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"Troy," I breathed, finally coming up for air.

"Sharpay," he moaned back as he kissed his way down my neck.

All logical thought … gone…

No. Sharpay. Focus.

"No. Troy," I said, more sharply, pulling his face away from my neck.

"What?"

"What the hell are we doing?"

He shifted a little in his seat, which shifted me… when had I climbed onto his lap?

"We are making out," he replied, punctuating each word with a kiss on one of my fingers. "Do you need a further diagram or something?"

I untangled myself from him and nearly leapt up off his lap. "No, Troy!"

He sighed, "Sharpay, what the hell is the problem?"

"I just… I mean… We were ready to kill each other a few hours ago in the car! How the hell did it get to here?"

He smirked, "Perhaps we're here because we were ready to kill each other. Love and passion and all that."

I rolled my eyes. "That's fabulous logic, Bolton."

"Well, what do you want from me?"

What do I want from him?

"I suppose… "

"Listen, Sharpay, I have no idea what we're doing, but can you calm down so we can get back to it?" He took a quick sip of his precious Fanta and continued, "I was having fun."

"I was too!"

"Then we're agreed! Let's get to it!" He got up off his seat and made his way over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, "Now, where was I…Ah, here. I was here."

His lips were on my neck again.

Did he have any idea what he does to me when he does that?

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"Troy."

What was that voice?

"Troy."

"Umph."

"Troy."

Now the voice was sharper. The voice should calm down.

"Bolton, get the hell off of my couch!"

Now the voice was accompanied by a harsh smack to the back of my head and the blanket being pulled off of me.

"What do you want?!"

"I want you to get your ass up and into the shower. We've only got about forty-five minutes before we need to leave for the airport."

Oh. The voice was Sharpay. Now it makes sense.

I unwillingly opened my eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them. She was frantically stomping around her apartment, throwing things into bags. She was already dressed, but still had a towel wrapped around her head, turban-style. I sat up and stared at her.

"Sharpay." I said, through the sleep junk in my voice.

"Shower, Troy."

"Sharpay."

She turned around and made eye contact with me as I rose from the couch. "What?"

I crossed the room and kissed her forehead, "Good morning."

She smiled, "I'm sorry, good morning." She leaned into my arms for about a second and then abruptly pulled away. "Now, shower, pack, and let's go to Rwanda."

As I stood and let the lukewarm water hit my body, I reviewed the events of last night.

It really wasn't a big deal. I mean, it's not like we had sex or anything.

Now, it's not like I didn't want to…

But my world shifted last night.

My mind is spinning a million miles an hour and I'm just not sure what end is up right now, to be honest. After some fabulous making out that happened during dinner… and after dinner… we settled down to watch a movie… which led to more making out…

At one point, it got quiet. There was some background noise on the TV and Sharpay had found herself resting on my chest. She quietly asked what this all meant and I quietly replied that I had no idea.

That was the extent of the analysis.

At about eleven, Sharpay made her way off of the couch and into her bedroom. The absence of her was a little hard to bear. Harder than I thought. I quietly got out my computer and called Gabi over the Skype. Of course, she didn't pick up and it's not like I would have actually told her anything so I'm not quite sure what I was thinking.

What was I thinking? Did I regret any of it?

I'm normally not that guy who analyzes things, but this just feels like something worth analyzing.

Not only had I kissed Sharpay, but I had loved it. I felt like I had come home after years of wandering in the wilderness. Like I was coming up for air after living underwater.

Awesome. Now I sounded like a Hallmark card.

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"How long are you in Kilgali, Mr. Bolton?"

I laughed, "Please call me Troy."

My guide, Pierre, smiled and nodded. "Yes, please," he replied. I had found that everyone in Rwanda replied with 'yes please' as their standard answer. It made Sharpay giggle a little every time, which of course sent me into emotional fits.

"I am in Kilgali for four days, Pierre."

"Oh, Troy!" He exclaimed, turning up the hill towards the hotel. "That is not enough time! How will you see everything?"

"I guess I'll have to come back, Pierre."

He smiled, "Yes you will. And we will have to make sure that you have the best visit that you can while you are here. Even for this short time. Now. We are here."

"And where is here?"

"This is the hotel that Miss Sharpay told me to bring you to. Hotel Des Mille Collines, the best hotel in Kilgali."

Why does that sound familiar? Hotel Des Mille Collines.

And then I saw the logo.

Shit.

Shit.

Holy fucking shit.

No way.

We're staying at Hotel Rwanda?

As I was mentally digesting that, I could hear Pierre asking me a question. "I'm so sorry, Pierre. What was that?"

"I asked you if you also needed a ride to dinner this evening or if you and Ms. Sharpay would be dining in the hotel."

"You know, Pierre, I'm just not sure. Can we call you?"

"Yes, please," he affirmed and we said our goodbyes. I made my way into the lobby to find Sharpay sitting in one of the red and gold chairs.

"Sharpay," I muttered under my breath as I took a seat next to her. "You so did not tell me that this is where we were staying."

"I didn't know myself until we got here. I freaked out too, believe me."

Once we landed in Kilgali, Sharpay and I had gotten picked up by some Oxfam employees and taken to a coffee shop in the city center. After some awkward introductions, they needed to have a staff meeting and I got the vibe that they'd love it if I wasn't there, so I offered to hang out at the coffee place until they were done. Pierre was the one to swing by and get me after their little meeting and he had thrown in a free tour of Kilgali on our way to the hotel.

"Isn't this the most beautiful country you've ever seen?" Sharpay asked me as we made our way to the elevators.

"I can't get over how different from Kenya it is."

"Seriously! It's one of the reasons that I love it here. It's like Hawaii in the middle of Africa."

We took the elevators up to our rooms and agreed to take a few minutes to get settled before meeting up for dinner. I noticed pretty quickly that the extra door in my room led right into Sharpay's.

Excellent.

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"You know, towards the end of the genocide, they were drinking the water out of the pool," I remarked calmly.

Troy paused mid-bite. "Exactly what I wanted to hear. Thanks."

"You said that you wanted to know about it all," I shrugged. "1994 wasn't exactly a picnic."

"You say that like you were here."

"Of course I wasn't. We were in elementary school. But when I lived here in Kilgali, I worked with women who had contracted HIV/AIDS from the genocide, so I've heard lots and lots of stories."

His brow furrowed. "Like they contracted it during that time period?"

"No, like the people that were the perpetrators of the genocide? Rape was used as a weapon of war. It's really how HIV/AIDS spread in Rwanda, along with pregnancy and scores of other venereal diseases. The rebels didn't kill everyone – sometimes they were content with leaving them for dead."

He stared at his burger like it was a life raft. I felt awful. Sometimes I forget that just because I've been dealing with these truths for so long does not mean that everyone else is used to them. The fact that rape is a chief weapon of modern warfare is a common reality for me now. It affects my everyday work and I've come to accept it as one of the things that pisses me off but that will probably never get better. I forget that it's not part of everyone's reality.

Ryan and Em always say that I'm impossible to take to dinner parties. Once someone starts asking me about my job, I have a hard time stopping. I'm the freaking queen of the overshare.

"Was that too intense?" I asked Troy quietly. The blood had slowly started to drain out of his face.

He shook his head. "I guess it's just really real. Sitting here, in Kilgali… it's just not a movie anymore."

I sympathetically nodded and reached for his hand across the table. I was about to speak when I saw him open his mouth to continue.

"I can't believe how much I didn't know before I came here," he said. "Andrew always says that it's the 21st century in places besides America and I never really knew what he meant. But he means that life is real for these people, too. Life is life everywhere and it's occurring in real time. I'm not living in a textbook reality right now. I'm walking in a country where if someone doesn't have a leg, it was probably hacked off by a machete and it happened during my life time and I'm just not sure how to deal with that."

"You're not expected to know, Troy."

His crystal eyes made contact with mine and bore deep into my soul. "But I should be. As Americans, we're the most resourced country like ever, right? Well, then shouldn't we be held accountable for knowing and helping and…"

I cut him off. "Helping gets a little messy."

"Not for individuals," he retorted. "On a governmental level, yes, I agree. But… I don't know. Didn't you say something the other night about refugee children in Darfur?"

"Yeah, It's a major issue. No one is sure where to put them."

"There's a prime example," he smacked the table for emphasis. "I watch the news almost every night and that's the first time I've ever heard about this. I've never even heard The Daily Show comment on it."

I chuckled. "When I first got back from Papua New Guinea, I was incensed that all anyone could talk about on CNN was the summer blockbuster movies and what celebrities were in rehab."

"How did you handle your anger?"

I made a face, "You sounded like a therapist just then."

That earned me a french fry thrown at my face. "Shut up," he said.

"I handled my anger, Dr. Bolton, by not watching the news and reading books about things that I cared about. And when my friends at school were getting vapid and materialistic, I just left."

"You left school?"

"Well, kind of. I'd just get away for a little while. I'd usually grab my photo album and a journal and head down to Central Park. If it was night time, I'd head to a diner or something. Coping mechanisms."

He nodded. "I'm going to need those."

I smiled. "Yeah, you are."

"Thanks, Dr. Evans," he laughed.

We ate in silence for a few seconds. The statement was out of my mouth before I could even filter it. "Of course, you could just not leave."

He stopped mid-bite. "What?"

"You could just stay here. Shift your base of operations from San Diego to Nairobi and stay here."

He was quiet a little too long for my comfort.

"I can't do that," he replied.

I knew that he couldn't. I knew that it was ridiculous to even say out loud. And yet… when he actually said that… it was like … I don't know… I had to bite back tears.

"I know, I was really just kidding," I said quickly.

He stared out at the pool. "No, you weren't."

"Of course I was."

He sighed deeply, "Sharpay, no woman who kissed me like you kissed me last night would just be kidding about me staying. And no man who kissed you like I kissed you last night would …"

The trailing off was going to be the death of me.

"So what does that mean?" I said quietly, praying that he couldn't hear the tears in my voice.

He took one last bite of his burger and pushed back from the table. "No clue, Sharpay. I have no fucking clue."

I watched him walk back into the hotel and felt myself glued to the chair. What was I supposed to do with all of that? How was I supposed to react?

I felt like I had stumbled into a bad Meg Ryan movie.

What the hell was going on?

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