A/N: Okay guys I'm thinking of finishing the story within these next few chapters. I'm getting bored with it, and if I am, that definitely means you are. So will today be the day of the long awaited kiss?
Maybe...maybe not. Find out!
"Ryan!" Sharpay hissed, poking her brother in the ribs with the end of her pink pen. He shifted himself over on the three seater couch and stared with determination at the TV. She jabbed him again, this time with her long witchy nails. He sighed.
"I'm trying to watch this, you know. Jeez!" he rolled his eyes and then continued to stare blankly at the massive screen. Sharpay studied him for a moment, "No you're not, you're not even paying attention," she pointed out slyly. She grabbed the remote off the arm of the sofa and muted the sound.
"Sharpay!" Ryan roared indignantly, making a grab for the remote. She stuffed it under a cushion and then rolled on top of it.
"Okay, what's this program about?" she said impatiently as Ryan made attempts to push her off the sofa. He stopped struggling and bit his lip.
"...Sharks?" He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question. Sharpay smirked and shook her head, he blond curls swinging in a messy disarray. She still had her pajamas on and it was nearing lunch time. Ryan knew Sharpay wasn't one for "the bed-head" look and wondered what she was playing at.
"Nuh-uh," she waved her hand at the television.
"It's about London in the 1940's actually," she laughed unkindly and folder her arms. Ryan pursed his lips, he wasn't the arguing type of person, and yet he wanted nothing more than to scream at his sister and clobber her over the head with a blunt object.
"Okay, okay. What do you want?" he said in a long steady exhale of frustrated air. How long had he been holding his breath? it felt like far too long, his lungs ached. Sharpay leaned in a little closer.
"Answer me this," she paused, fiddling with a loose thread on her pajama bottoms.
"Are you...Do you lo-like Troy?"
"No,"
"Why are you bothering with hi-"
"The bet," Ryan grunted. He sighed back into the sofa and held his hand out expectantly for the remote.
"Sharpay!" he reminded her, waving his empty hand about. She dug under the cushions and handed it to him silently. They both stared at the screen, neither concentrating or watching it at all.
After ten minutes both Ryan's and Sharpay's stomach rumbled at exactly the same time. They both glanced at each other and let out hoots of laughter.
"Go and make me something to eat Ry," Sharpay smiled manipulatively and stretched out like a cat on the sofa, pushing Ryan off his seat with her foot. He glared, but couldn't stay mad at her for long. He missed times like these. Him and Sharpay just lounging around the house all Saturday in their bed clothes, singing old songs and eating ice cream for breakfast.
He wanted those times back. So just like he was told Ryan went to the kitchen, and pottered, clanged and banged about in the cupboards. How hard could making toast and scrambled eggs be?
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"Buggering Hell, For God's crapping sake!" Ryan cursed loudly as he stubbed his toe on the corner of the oven. He hoped comically over to the table and clattered down heavily into one of the four chairs. He groaned, and blew out a puff of air which ruffled his hair. He massaged his big toe gently.
The front door bell rang and there was a commotion from the hall way. He could hear Sharpay's gushing voice as she greeted somebody. It could have been the parcel delivery guy, Ryan knew his sister had a bit of a "thing" for the young postman.
He wiped his eyes in the crease of his elbow and hobbled over to the sink. The kitchen was heavy with smelly smoke by now, Ryan glared at his feeble attempt at breakfast. The eggs were welded to the frying pan, and were still letting off a terrible burnt stench. Four pieces of charcoaled bread lay abandoned on the counter top. Perhaps he had toasted them on a too high heat setting. It would have been easier to call the house keeping staff to cook the late breakfast, but it was their day off.
Usually Ryan's mother stayed at home on Saturdays , but she was away on business in Ibiza. Apparently Mr and Mrs Evans were thinking of expanding to more foreign countries.
Ryan was slightly ashamed of how much he still relied on his parents, he couldn't even survive one Saturday alone.
He washed his hands under the hot water tap, lathering rose scented soap between his fingers. That was the down side of living with two woman, everything must be pink and smell of chocolate coated flowers.
"I see you're absolutely terrible in the kitchen," Ryan froze and spun around, his hands still wet and dripping water on the floor. Troy was stood in the door way, he had a black t-shirt over his arm. He put it down carelessly on the table and joined Ryan by the sink. He squirted some soap onto his hands and splashed them under the water. He adjusted the cold-hot balance and then rinsed the suds off.
"What are you doing here?" Ryan asked , face blanching as Troy wrinkled his nose at the smoking pan of eggs still on the cooker. He snatched it up and slung it out of sight into a bowl of warm water. He would have put it in the dishwasher but there was too much food on it. However, food implied something edible, eating the mess he had created would be classed as man slaughter.
"Your shirt,...I just picked it up from the dry cleaners," he explained calmly, picking up one of the pieces of blackened bread with interest. Ryan wiped his hands in a fluffy kitchen towel and then threw it at Troy. He snagged it from the air without a glitch.
"Nice one," Ryan commented as he hastily cleaned crumbs off the unit with a damp dish cloth.
He fetched a clean bowl form the cupboard and cracked three more eggs into it. He whisked them with difficulty, why did cooking have to be so hard.
"You're doing it wrong," Troy noted, he grabbed the salt cellar from the table and sprinkled some into the bowl. He nudged Ryan out of the way and took over the preparing completely.
"Don't mix it like you're stirring a big cauldron," he whisked the mixture rapidly so that his hand was just a blur of color.
"It's all in the wrist," he said placidly , slowing down just briefly so Ryan could follow his technique.
"Get me some pepper, I've already put salt in," Ryan frowned. The cabinet the pepper was in was just above Troy's head. He leaned over, angling his body away from Troy so he didn't have to touch him when he got the seasoning.
"Here," Ryan said breathlessly, handing Troy the little ceramic bullet shaped bottle. Troy took it wordlessly and sprinkled it into the orangey yellow mixture. He gave it a quick whisk and then stood back to admire his work.
"There ,it's ready to cook now," he told Ryan, who was putting more bread in the toaster.
"Woah!" He cried, rushing forwards. Ryan looked alarmed.
"What?" he said warily, freezing solid with his hand poised in mid air. Troy slapped the bread out of his hand and adjusted one of the dials on the chrome toaster.
"You had it set on Seven!" he snapped. Ryan rose his eyebrow.
"And?"
"And?!" Troy repeated incredulously. "What do you mean 'and?' it'll burn straight away. Christ, I thought it was impossible to burn bread when you have a toaster. Apparently not. Only an idiot could succeed in-" Ryan thumped him on the arm. He folded his arms and stalked over to the cooker. He slammed another frying pan down onto the hob.
"Point taken-" he snapped. "-I'm a culinary retard, we can't all be Michelin star chef, you know." he growled jokily. Troy let out a bark of laughter.
"It hardly takes a genius," he mumbled, discreetly rubbing the area where Ryan had hit him.
Ryan grunted something inaudible and ignited blue flames on the hob. He picked up the egg mixture from the unit and made to tip it into the pan.
"And you have to stick some oil in there first," Troy said snidely, he was already grabbed the bottle and was drizzling it around the pan, it cracked sizzled and hissed when it touched the metal. He turned the heat down and then smiled up at
Ryan who had sat on the counter.
"Better than watching Gordon Ramsey," Ryan teased with a returning smile.
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Ten minutes later, a box of eggs and a loaf of burnt bread, they sat down to fluffy scrambled eggs and golden toast with pools of molten butter.
They ate quickly and silently in the living room. Sharpay had to suddenly 'wash her hair' and rushed up stairs. Ryan suspected she was partly telling the truth. She would probably come back down in an hour or so, reeking of perfume and looking perfectly plastic. But he didn't plan for Troy to stay that long. That was until Mr Monopoly got involved. They were soon sprawled on the rug, with fake money all around them.
Troy groaned like he was personally in pain as he landed on Ryan's park lane, which was bearing a gigantic red hotel. He glanced down at his hand of money, knowing it wouldn't be enough to cover the cost. He had already sold all of his property, so that meant...He threw his money at Ryan fell onto his back with his arms extended to the heavens.
"You win! you fiend! You've cleared me out!" Troy wailed melodramatically.
"Are you happy now?"
"Eureka!" Shouted Ryan, also throwing his money into the air so that multi colored notes fluttered around. Troy chuckled, and then his laughter soon turned into hysterics. Ryan gave him an edgy look, but couldn't hold back a giggle of his own too. Troy snatched his blue hat from his head and put it on his own.
"I think I look sexy in this," he snickered in a sing song voice into an empty glass. Ryan snatched his hat back and glared.
"Ha ha," he said without an inch of humor.
"Oh come on Ry, you know I looked sexy," Troy prodded sarcastically, flattening his hair down with both hands. His head fell to the side on the rug so he could look at Ryan. He was surprised to see the other's face so close. Troy was reminded of that day at rehearsal when they had been forced to stage kiss. The thought still made his stomach flip sickly.
"Yeah, you did," Ryan said unthinkingly and then froze, looking as if he would like nothing more than to eat his words. They both looked at each other with wide eyes.
Troy looked so helpless, his hands were either side of his hips his eyes wide. Ryan sucked in a deep breath and flipped over, there was no time like the present, he had to get this damned kiss over with at some point. He expected Troy to freak out, scream at him and leave the house, but he held perfectly still looking Ryan right in the eyes the whole time. He felt unnerved as he tilted Troy's head up with his index finger. His palms were sweaty, his heart was going BANG BANG BANG against his ribs. He wondered if Troy could actually hear his racing pulse.
He kissed Troy, just a slight peck on the lips at first. It was rather like how one kissed their auntie. He pulled back to measure his reaction. Troy didn't utter ,he had his eyes closed ,his face was beet red and his breathing was labored.
Ryan closed back in with an inflated ego. He crushed his lips against Troy's , keeping his teeth out of the way .Ryan ran his tongue impatiently across Troy's lower lip. His hands started to wander up Troy's body. He lightly scraped his nail under his neck.
Troy responded much more enthusiastically than Ryan had expected. He found the roles had reversed as the much stronger boy rolled over and pushed his into the floor. Not once breaking their violent kiss. It turned into a battle of dominance to be the Alfa male. Ryan groaned as Troy roughly scraped his teeth across his neck.
A door slammed and they both sprang apart like somebody had tipped water over their heads.
Troy stared at Ryan, his eyes still raw with lust. His gaze traveled over his ruffled hair, swollen pink lips and the way two of his shirt buttons had been ripped off in the kiss.
"I gotta go." Troy said horsely. He pleaded to high heavens as he rushed to the door that Sharpay hadn't caught them in the act. If she knew, that meant the whole school would know.
He all but ran to his truck, fishing for his keys in his pocket. What would he tell Gabriella? It would kill her. He would ...tell her nothing, he would see her tonight, just like normal. They would kiss...No. That didn't sound right.
"Come on!" Troy shouted in frustration. His keys were nowhere in his pockets.
It didn't dawn on him that he might have left them in the house until Ryan was grimly by his side, keys dangling from one hand. Troy took them impatiently. He didn't glance at Ryan as he crunched the Truck into reverse and spun out of the drive way spraying gravel everywhere.
As he drove Troy wondered...
Was he gay?
A/N: Okay...so. Interesting. Thanks Guys for your reviews! Keep 'em coming!
Much Love!
-Gabriella-