Kelsi Neilson initially paused at her afternoon piano-playing when she heard the boy's voice in the hall, floating out from one of the rooms; it wasn't like anything she'd ever heard before, not from anyone in this school she'd ever heard, anyway. Troy's sometimes-shaky baritone was familiar to her now; so was Ryan's adventurous tenor, every note of both always pure and tenacious. But this---she squinted, the brim of the oversized fedora she'd donned that morning falling low on her forehead. This was unfamiliar.

"Troy?" she called softly, although she knew there was no way this guy's voice belonged to him—and it was unlikely that she'd ever find him singing aimlessly in the halls after school, no matter how much she'd fantasized about it in quiet moments she'd be hard pressed to admit toIt was gravelly, low, and husky— almost at the point of sounding flat, but not. It was, however, the inventiveness of the singer that caught her attention. He was singing an old Peggy Lee song she recognized from one of Ms. Darbus' records, reinventing the music, dancing and retreating from the edge of each note till the old standard was almost unrecognizable. He obviously couldn't hear her—the singing had gotten louder, if anything else….

This was driving her slightly insane, she had to admit. Who was it?

Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she stood up, folding her music into her folder carefully before she slipped out from behind the baby grand and poked her nose into the hall. No visual on the person yet, although the voice was growing stronger, more confident. It was the chorus now; he'd fumble on the verses, she predicted. Sure enough, the voice faltered after the bridge, then with a touch of humor, began again, making up words this time.

Kelsi couldn't help it—her usual wariness was overcome, and she laughed, despite herself. "Who's there?" she called, moving through the doorway. The voice stopped abruptly.

"Kelsi?" The voice answering her was uncertain, now; and only a couple doors away, in the…home economics room? The question only had a brief moment to go through her head before Zeke Baylor's dark head popped out. He looked confused, but when he recognized her, he grinned, a flash of bright teeth that momentarily lit up his thin face.

"Hey," she said softly, suddenly shy; she looked down at her feet. Around Troy, she was fine now; around the other Wildcats, she still sometimes felt like she had no business speaking with them. You've been working with him for a summer, get over it, she told herself sternly, and then lifted her small chin, lips curving up into a smile. "Cooking?" she asked.

He nodded, and it was only then that she realized the hall was filled with the aroma of baking bread and cheese, and some sort of spice. Garlic, maybe? Basil?

"Welsh rarebit," he explained before she could ask, when she wrinkled her nose. "No practice today, so…." He trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed, then tilted his head. "The guys are practicing at the park, but…I guess I was a little more excited about this than about scrimmaging next week."

"What are you doing?" she forgot her shyness for a moment, moved forward; the room did smell good, and she was curious, in spite of herself. "Is it for a class?"

"Sort of." He stepped back, wiping his hands on the apron tied around his waist. She recognized it from the country club's kitchen that summer. Now that Chef Michael had his name embroidered on the front, Zeke wore it every time he cooked. His eyes were bright in the soft light, eager. "Come on—let me show you."

Kaelsi shrugged her slender shoulders and followed him, tucking her hands into the pockets of her low-slung, baggy black trousers, grateful for the warmth in the room—the oven, as well as the wonderfully cheesy smell, was comforting on that cool rainy day. It was September now--- third week of school, to be exact--- and cold for a fall day in Albuquerque. Students had taken advantage of this, wearing all of the trendiest fall fashions usually reserved for the East Coast. Sharpay, she remembered with a smile, had purchased a Juicy Couture sweatsuit and white sheepskin Uggs specifically for the occasion. Poor thing. She'd been sweating by the end of the day—it wasn't that cold. Kelsi, a direct opposite, wore loose, comfortable cast-offs that made her resemble Annie Hall, in a way—the ever-present spectacles, fingerless gloves, and of course, the battered felt fedora.

Her thoughts were interrupted when her classmate pulled the oven's broiler open—and her blue eyes widened. "Wow," she said, softly.

"Yeap." Pleased with himself, Zeke pulled the toasted cheese on bread from the broiler. "Second batch. I've been experimenting with different kinds of cheeses."

"What's it made of?" Kelsi asked, leaning on the counter while he made room for the tray among all the various pots, pans and mixing bowls scattered about; and her thoughts drifted in and out as she listened to him describing the eggs and sharp cheese, the pepper, the spices, the heavy cream, how to mix, how to broil, the delicate difference between a mere toasting and broiling….

Zeke grew more and more animated as he talked, and Kelsi, as before, found herself being drawn to his voice, the rise and the falls of the timbre, his gestures as he explained this mixing technique or that way of peppering an egg. He talked, he moved, he broke eggs and grated cheese and flung things around; she rested her chin on her hands…and watched. He moved gracefully despite his lanky figure, and seemed more at ease here than on the court, in a sense.

"You taste," he said abruptly, thrusting a piece of toast somewhere near the vicinity of her mouth. He wasn't even looking at her, actually; somehow, he was doing this and beating up another bowl of…something at the same time. Automatically she recoiled, and fell back, a small shriek escaping her lips as she grabbed in vain for the tabletop.

Zeke looked up at the sound, and his eyes widened. Leaning across the table, he grabbed her just in time, the forgotten toast lying on the table. "My God, I'm sorry," he apologized profusely, and scrambled over to her side, brushing crumbs off her lap and front, actually lifting her bodily and re-settling her on the stool. "Are you okay?"

Kelsi nodded wordlessly, jerking away from him almost involuntarily and removing his hands from her waist—she'd never been so embarrassed in her life. And he was close—far too close for her comfort, anyway. She could feel the heat radiating from him, could smell a mixture of cheese and bread and cologne and warm, clean, guy scent----

Jesus Christ. Her cheeks were flaming, now, and she instinctively reached up to cover them with her hands. Why, oh why did she blush so easily? This was Zeke, for God's sake. And his fingers, in their frantic brushing, were---

"Oh….stop!" she exclaimed, batting his hands away from her general chest area. "I'm…fine, Zeke. I'm fine."

"Sharpay hates it when I do that, too," he admitted, looking down. Kelsi, who was straightening her clothes, finally looked up to see him raise his lashes and meet her gaze with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Sorry. Guess I would have learned not to spill on people by now."

"Or knock them over," Kelsi replied dryly, glad that her face was finally cooling down, and doubly glad he'd moved away from her. His closeness had unnerved her—and not necessarily in a bad way, either, which made her all the more nervous. You're pathetic, she told herself sternly. Couple friends of yours pair up, you're the odd one out, and you're ready to jump the first guy you meet. And Zeke was with Sharpay now, wasn't he? She remembered how closely he'd been holding the tall blonde girl the last night of summer vacation, at the staff picnic; the kiss she'd witnessed while trying to slip out obtrusively. Sharpay had looked…soft, she remembered. Submissive, even, looking up at his face with a rare expression. And Zeke—

Much as she blows him off, he knows how to get to her, she remembered herself thinking. But no—she couldn't. Not now. Instead, she forced herself to meet his eyes, swallowed hard before speaking.

Crushing on Zeke Baylor, of all people? This could. Not. Happen.

"Waiting on Sharpay to finish?" she asked quickly, picking up the pieces of toast with quick, nervous fingertips. Drama was rehearsing today, last she'd heard. They hadn't needed her, though, which left her free to compose. Zeke blanched for a fraction of a second; then he responded, quietly. "No."

Before she could query as to why, he changed the subject. "Waiting for Jason? That was you playing, right?"

She nodded, not bothering to clarify that there was probably a snowball's chance in hell that Jason would be waiting for her now or ever—in that way, anyway. He wasn't interested in her, not like that, no matter what everyone else thought. They had paired off almost instinctively at events all summer long, but he'd never so much as held her hand, other than for the impromptu romp or dance. However, she'd noticed his eyes wandering more than once to the curvy, dark-haired Martha—who, amusingly enough, now tailed Ryan devotedly. Interesting, yes, but not very flattering to her.

"We're not together—" she began, then settled for, "I'm not waiting for him." She didn't wait for guys. Or rather, guys didn't wait for her. Not usually. And she didn't care, right? Or hadn't. Or whatever.

Zeke peered at her curiously; then, he sat back. "Ah." It was an inhalation of breath, barely audible. "Sorry," he said after a minute. His hands were resting on the tabletop, still for once. They looked darker than usual against the pale table-top; long and lined with veins. Strong. Capable. "Didn't realize," he added.

Kelsi shrugged, biting her lower lip till it reddened. She didn't feel much of anything; wished she did in a way, if for nothing but to give Zeke a reason to look at her so sympathetically. "It's okay. We never were---anything. Just friends."

"Could've fooled me," he said; then he looked at her, tilting his head. The light caught his eyes, giving them a glint that made him look particularly astute. Kelsi felt a stab of irritation she couldn't suppress for some reason, and spoke before she thought.

"Where's Sharpay?" she asked, raising a brow. He didn't miss the point and sat back quickly, as if he'd been slapped. When he spoke, though, his voice was light.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Kels." Something in his expression had changed, but he turned his head too quickly for her to read it.

"No meeting after practice anymore?" God, her mouth was on turbo. She couldn't stop for the life of her.

"No." His voice was deliberate, heavier than it had been. "We do meet…sometimes. When her highness wishes it."

"Oh." Ashamed now, she was silent; she could hear the anger in his voice, slight as it was. She couldn't apologize, though; she'd injured his pride enough. Instead, she jumped off the stool, nearly stumbling on the way down. Zeke reached out to steady her, but she shook her head, wiggling out of his grasp. The sudden recognition of loneliness was almost too much for her; it was too much like her own. He was staring down at her, expression suddenly soft.

"You okay?" he asked, low.

She nodded wordlessly, swallowing down a reply, hard. She couldn't speak now. Instead she turned, blindly beginning to pick up things at the tabletop, wiping up, throwing away wrappers and buttery plastic knives.

"Kelsi---"

She began to work faster. Quicker I can finish, quicker I get out of here…she thought, irrationally.

"Kelsi."

"I need a towel," she blurted, then leaned across the table, eyes suddenly blurring. God. She wasn't going to cry, was she? What the hell was wrong with her? "…table's sticky, you know that…."

"Kelsi." She could feel him moving closer, could smell that scent that still clung to him so stubbornly. Stop, she told herself sternly, then turned her head, only to have him grab her shoulders. His hands felt very big, very warm. Too warm. "Kelsi?"

"Let me go," she mumbled, shaking her head.

"It's not…Jason, is it?" Zeke manfully took a stab, and it almost made her laugh, how off base he was. "God, Zeke. No. we're not…we're not anything. We never were. I'm not his type—or anyone else's in this school, you know that?" The words were barely out of her mouth when she blushed hard, mortified she'd said the last part out loud. Jesus. She must be more tired than she'd thought.

He bit his lip, not answering. Kelsi thought for a moment that he hadn't understood, then realized he was simply holding his tongue. A long, quiet moment, then—

"I'm sorry," he said simply, reaching up and adjusting her hat.

Kelsi didn't know why she did what she did next; maybe it was because she couldn't look into his face, didn't want to see the pity she knew would be there. Maybe it was because he was so close, and even though he wasn't touching her, she could still feel his warmth, his solidity. Maybe she was just exhausted. At any rate, she closed her eyes, then leaned forward, resting her cheek against his for the briefest of moments.

"Kels…" he didn't finish, and he didn't move, either; and for a minute she fancied they'd become a single person of sorts for a moment, drawing comfort from the other. She didn't allow herself to get carried away, though a part of her wanted to—desperately. With a sigh, she pulled back, only to be stopped by fingers on her lower back.

He was looking at her intently now, with soft brown eyes that made her feel downright-- exposed. Too intently. Color rushed up to her face again, and she was about to speak when---

"Oh, this is rich."

The voice, oozing with sarcasm, floated from the still-open doorway of the classroom, and Zeke jumped back as if he'd been burned, for the voice belonged to none other than Sharpay Evans.

She was standing in the doorway of the classroom, dressed to the nines in a tight blue cocktail-length sequined number and heels—it must have been a dress rehearsal, Kelsi thought, biting her lip hard and staring down at her shoes. Sharpay's full lips were curved upwards into a smirk, and that perpetually raised right eyebrow was almost hitting her hairline. Neither she nor Zeke spoke, although glancing up she thought she saw him swallow.

Sharpay moved into the room with her usual smoothness, eyes narrowing, taking in the little scene with a single cursory glance. "I thought I would stop in and see you," she said, addressing Zeke as if Kelsi wasn't in the room, "but I guess you found something else to amuse yourself with."

The nasty lilt in her voice made Kelsi look up in spite of herself. She could feel the color draining out of her face. She'd always been somewhat unnerved by Sharpay's bossiness, but this—this was downright nasty. She met the girl's eyes, feeling her heart rise into her throat. She hadn't--- they hadn't been doing anything wrong, but---

"Shar---" she began somewhat hoarsely, wondering where her voice had gone. She could feel Zeke moving to her side, but his presence wasn't reassuring now. "Nothing was—I mean, I was just helping him out---"

"Mm-hm." Sharpay clearly wasn't impressed by her explanation, but on closer look, Kelsi saw something that made her pause.

The older girl despite her make-up, her, dress, too much eyeliner—she looked….scared. Lost, almost. It was hard to see, but it was there, behind the anger glimmering in those normally unreadable blue eyes. And when Kelsi realized this, she stepped back. Sharpay…she liked Zeke. Very, very much. Well--- enough to be afraid of losing him to someone else, at any rate.

"Kels—" Zeke's deep voice broke in, making her blink, interrupting her thoughts. "Shar---"

Kelsi cut him off. "Never mind, Zeke. I'm out of here." With a shrug of her slender shoulders, she pushed past the "ice queen" and headed for the door. "Thanks for the company—and…sorry." She didn't even look at Sharpay. After what she'd seen now, she didn't think the girl could scare her anymore. Not when it concerned this, anyway. And Zeke—well, whatever moment they'd shared—it was lost, now. His gaze was fixed on Sharpay; and Kelsi knew instinctively that he'd seen the same thing she had, and had been touched by it just as much.

Good luck, Zeke, she thought, leaving the room and its deafening silence behind, pushing her hands deep into the pockets of her overalls. Her head was beginning to ache, almost as if she had a cold or had been crying for a long time. But--- no. She pushed back against her thoughts and lifted her small chin, moving as fast as she could, away from Sharpay's tearful accusations, which were beginning to leak from the room, from Zeke's soothing baritone talking to her, calming her, from….everything.

It was back to square one for her, she guessed. Probably better that way.