Fickle

Old Fiat

Wow! I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I've been uninspired lately. And bored. But not in the mood for writing. Arg. Anyway, I apologize for the lateness.

By the way, many of you were pretty close to accurate in your predictions, but I still want more! I can refurbish them into ideas for these chapters. But I love feedback of any kind, so all is appreciated.

For all those who like insider tidbits, I wrote the last segment first and then went back up and wrote the rest. Weird, huh?

Sorry for any typos and such. This was a bit of a rush job and a quick posting.

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Chapter Three: Break-Up Dancing

"What?"

I think that was the word I had heard most often in the past fifteen minutes. Actually, it was the only word I'd heard other than my own stupid babbling.

Okay, so that's probably a bad way to start. Let's go back to… Late July—Chad's birthday and the days preceding it and the days following…

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I decided I would make there was nothing I disliked about Ryan before I broke up with Gabriella. This study of my emotions came in steps, most of which I'd gone through. While it may sound weird, I've gone through this mental checklist with most of the people I like. It's a very useful way to dismiss crushes and such. (Exception: Tyra, because nothing will ever come of that and no matter what I do she is still hot. Also I can't really talk to her.) Anyway, this is the way the list goes:

1.) Observe him/her physically (is there anything you dislike about his/her appearance? His/her walk? His/her habits?) Done. I'd been doing that the past couple of weeks.

2.) Observe his/her vocal patterns (anything you don't like about his/her accent? His/her "catch phrases"? Any common grammatical errors you don't like?) Done. I love his voice. (Isn't that awful? I feel so stupid writing it.)

3.) Talk to him/her (Speak to him/her about his/her opinions, hobbies, and favorites. How many things do you have in common?) Not done.

So the only thing I really needed to do was talk to Ryan. This was a frightening concept, seeing as most of the time when I liked someone and tried to talk to them… Well, while I could actually do it without stuttering or making too much of a fool of myself vocally, I still blushed like crazy. This used to happen a lot with Gabriella, even after we were going out.

What if I spoke to Ryan Evans in a group setting? That wouldn't be so bad. Well, it probably still would be, but not as much so. That way, I could ease myself into talking to him. Yes!

But where would you speak to Ryan Evans in a "group setting"? asked a part of my brain that I've been considering taking, slaughtering and eating for breakfast.

I considered this thought for a moment, and then it hit me. Chad's birthday party was in a couple of days! I knew all the Wildcats were going over to his house for a "big" party (No, not a teen movie-style party. Those don't actually happen a lot with the East High student body because most of them are very moral Christians [or Jews. I'm included in this minority. and so stuff like that almost never goes on.) and, so, Ryan would probably be there. He and Chad had formed a kind of friendship over the summer that I doubt I will ever understand. But he would be there. I could talk to him.

I'm a genius.

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Not that many people were at Chad's party (this was actually very good, because I dislike crowds), just a couple of friends; Ryan, Zeke, Jason, Chad, Martha, Kelsi, Taylor Sharpay, Gabriella and me. I doubt Chad's mom would've let one more person in the house, even Andrew Lloyd Webber. (She loves The Phantom of the Opera for unknown reasons.)

It was fun though. We sat around watching all three Spider Man films, shouting the lines before the actors said them because we'd all seen them so many times. Ryan actually did a fair impersonation of Mary-Jane/Kristen, perfectly holding up his falsetto. Chad began to deliver Peter/Spider Man/Toby's lines to Ryan. It became a big acting fit where I was cast as Doctor Octopus, J. Jonah Jameson and the Sand Man. We had actually gotten to the point where we were physically acting out the scenes (it was Sand Man's creation so I was writhing on the carpet while everyone else laughed from the beige, leather sofa.) when Chad's mother came in.

I'd always thought Mrs. Danforth was pretty, in a very foreign sort of way. She was Italian—actually raised in Rome—and had skin the color of caramel and thick, dark hair that fell in deep black waves to her shoulders (though it was usually pulled back in a ponytail). She had a slim build and very long legs. She stared down at me on the white, pushy mass, more than a little confused. I looked up at her and blushed.

"Hi Mrs. Danforth," I said, my voice a little high-pitched. "What's up?"

She said something to Chad in Italian and he paused the film, which, as I hadn't realized before, was turned up almost all the way.

Waiting until all of our ears were adjusted to the sudden quiet, she spoke.

"There is a cake in the kitchen which you can all frost if it didn't fall from your movies," her voice, despite her round, bouncy way of speaking, was reprimanding in tone. I could see she was laughing slightly though.

We all got up and followed her to the kitchen. Chad would always have every guest help frost the cake at all of his birthday parties as a tradition. Usually though, it would be just me, him, Jason and Zeke. Because of the additions of six (I think) other people, the cake ended up with at least an inch of frosting. Probably more. We all got so hyper because of it though. (Of course, we had to eat it once we had finished all of our dinner where Chad's mom attempted hamburgers, but they ended up tasting a lot like meatballs.) After Spider Man 3 ended, Chad slipped a CD into the stereo system. Hello Goodbye, if I wasn't mistaken.

Anyway, we were all dancing around the beige and slightly dull living room when I took my chance. Ryan was dancing by himself near the edge of the room, his pink poor-boy cap bouncing on his head as his body carried through the complicated dance steps. His feet tapped, his torso spun, his arms always slightly out for balance. For a second, I was hypnotized again, but then I remembered that I had to talk to him and pulled myself out of the Evans-trance. (That thing needs to be patented. They would seriously make a fortune on just up-tight businesswomen alone. Or maybe it only worked on me.)

I walked over to him, trying to block out the electronic voice pounding out of the speakers. Ironically, the song seemed to say the exactly what I'd been feeling.

"You are the one, the one that lies close to me

Whispers "Hello, I miss you quite terribly."

I fell in love, in love with you suddenly

Now there's no place I could be, but here in your arms…"

I stepped right in front of him, a smile on myself. Damn, I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Ryan seemed not to notice though. I guess he thought my cheeks were red from dancing.

"Hey," I said softly.

"What?" he said, looking slightly confused and, to my horror, adorable.

"Nice dancing," I said this louder. He smiled, truly grateful.

"Thanks Bolton," he said. "I can show you how. Right now, if you want."

My first instinct was to say 'No thanks,' but if I wanted to find out how much I liked Ryan I would have to get close to him, right? I nodded and he began to show me a couple hip-hop moves. It was fun. Ryan was having the effect on me that Gabriella once had. I felt amazing. I felt perfect.

Uh-oh… You like him. Nice work, Bolton, I thought, but continued the frenzied dancing lesson with Ryan. We actually began to chat a little while we danced. Apparently, Ryan liked one thing more than dancing and singing—baseball. This surprised me a little, but it was actually sort of cool. I was never very good at baseball, but always loved watching it. We talked about our favorite sports teams, songs, movies and teachers at East High. He gave me his opinions on the government and Britney Spears.

We always agreed.

Eventually, Chad plugged in his iPod and while the train of electro-pop stopped, it was replaced with other dance songs. I actually blushed at the harsh, but still smooth that voice screamed out of the speakers "I want your… sex." Ryan laughed at my scarlet cheeks, knowing it wasn't from dancing. His cheeks were pink too. He was flushed from dancing. I could see that he was sweating through his white button-up shirt and wondered how he could kick that high in those skinny jeans.

We danced on, our conversation fading away. Our movements were perfectly in sync. I guess Ryan had listened to as much David Bowie as I had because he knew every cue in Let's Dance. At the end of the song, as the male voice faded into the guitar and drumbeat, I looked around. Only Ryan and I were still dancing.

The room burst into loud applause.

I looked at the blonde again. His hair stuck to his forehead as his lungs heaved for air. His face was the same pink as his hat, but he seemed happy. He laughed a clapped as well, bowing once or twice as a joke.

He looked cute.

And I felt flawless in his presence.

Damn it.

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I spent several days mulling things over in my mind. I was, quite honestly, head over heels for Ryan Evans. This was quite… disturbing. I mean, I still liked girls, but now Ryan stood above all of them in his ivory-skinned glory. I tried to think back—had I ever liked a guy before? Yes. My first English teacher, a tall, dark haired man, was probably my first crush.

Now that I really looked at it, I'd always been a little… (I know this sounds creepy, but—) ambidextrous sexuality wise. I'd never actually thought about it before, though, but it was true. I had always liked girls, but I'd always had a vague attraction towards some guys.

That took two weeks to sort out, yet now I write it; it only took one hundred and seventeen words. I can be really slow at times.

Anyway, despite the fact that I still thought many members of her sex were beautiful and that she herself was drop-dead gorgeous, I realized that I would really have to stop my relationship with Gabriella. Even though I still loved her, it wasn't the same. Ryan was the one that made me feel special now.

This was going to be tough…

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I had asked Gabriella to go out to see a movie with me on Saturday as a sort of "last date" thing, even though she didn't really know it was our last date. Anyway, after seeing the movie (Balls of Glory, very funny, but a little… "too much" in my opinion.) we went out to dinner and then decided to walk around the park a little.

It was pretty dark out so all the colors that were normally bright and vibrant were gray or blue. I looked over at Gabriella. Stunning, as always, but not in the same way as him. Her hand fit perfectly in my own as we walked, side by side, along the sidewalk. A perfect smile bloomed on her face as she looked up at the indigo sky, her hair shone and her tanned skin looked like the softest of silks. I watched her for a while as we walked, sort of hoping I was would fall back into the same love she had wrapped me in when we met last January.

But I couldn't.

I turned away from her, suddenly finding the bluish-green grass interesting.

"Gabriella," I said. It almost didn't sound like my voice, like I was lip-synching to someone else's words. "I want to talk to you about something."

"Okay," she said, her piping, bird-like voice always made me happy, even though I only really thought of her as a (beautiful) best friend now. "Let's sit on the swings! Come on, Wildcat—let's have a race!"

I laughed as she took off down the sidewalk and ran after her. She beat me though, and I fell once my foot hit the sand covered area that was the playground.

"Ow…" I groaned, getting up from my back-down, legs in the air position. Even better, the streetlights were on around the playground, so I was spotlighted. Rubbing my sore back, I sat on the swing beside Gabriella. She was laughing. I turned pink.

"Okay, okay," I laughed, swinging slightly but mostly keeping my feet planted on the ground. "It was funny, but I need to talk to you about something, something serious."

She stopped laughing but turned to me with a broad smile. "Shoot."

Suddenly I really wished I was more… anything when under pressure in something other than basketball. It was like, once I really, really had to pass a quiz or test, my mind went blank and the answers flooded out of my brain; the moment I had to be articulate, immediately I became a stuttering idiot, incapable of words with more than one syllables.

I looked down at my sneakers and blushed even harder.

"I-I-I…" I spluttered. "I really love you, Gabi…"

"Oh my God, Troy!" she said, sounding blissfully happy. I looked up at her. Her eyes were filled with tears, her mouth pulled into a watery smile. "Yes!"

"Yes, what?" I asked, suddenly confused. Why did she look so happy?

"Are you—" she took a deep breath. "Proposing to me?"

"What?" I sat up straight, shocked.

Her smile dimmed and her cheeks turned red. "A-aren't you?

"No!" I yelled. Oh geez. This made everything even harder. Of course, I didn't really make anything better by shouting but I was just so surprised. She turned away from me, clearly embarrassed.

"Gabriella," I placed a hand on her back. "I… think we should break up."

She spun back around. The tears falling down her cheeks weren't those of happiness. Her lip trembled.

"What?" she asked. Her face was the image of disbelief.

"I really, really love you, Gabi," I said, looking at my clasped hands. "But… I've found someone who makes me feel really special."

"What?"

"You're beautiful; you're the image of perfection, but there's a person who I find… I don't know… more so…"

I went on rambling like this for fifteen more minutes. I don't even remember what I said. It basically awkwardly repeated myself as Gabriella looked at me, eyes full of incredulity and hurt. It was so hard. I know that sounds stupid, because it had to be so much harder for her, but I still felt so attached to her.

Finally, I ran out words and fell into silence, letting myself swing a little. I was still keeping my gaze on my hands, memorizing every line and crease, but I could feel her eyes on me. She was trying to read me the same way she read those Algebra and Chemistry equations—trying to add up my hanging head, slumped shoulders, shaking hands and horrible words in some logical manner.

"Who is it?" she asked, her voice cutting through the thick blanket of quiet.

"Who?" I asked, still examining my hands.

"Who makes you feel more special? Please look at me."

I paused, but brought my head up to meet her gaze. "Ryan," I whispered, getting lost in her warm brown eyes.

"R-Ryan?" she spluttered, she shook her head slightly but never stopped looking into my eyes. "Troy, are-are you gay?"

"I-I-I-"

No. No, I'm not. I'm bi. I wanted to say, but I couldn't speak for several minutes. I don't know why I couldn't, but when I thought about it from Gabriella's point of view… Wouldn't that just sound like a lie? She seemed to think so when I finally spat it out. She cocked one eyebrow and looked at the sandy area around the swing set.

"Troy, I…" she struggled to find the words, her long, delicate hands twisting around each other in her nervousness. "I love you. I always will love you. I… I probably will never stop loving you…" A few more fresh tears dribbled down her cheeks. "But—" she turned back towards me, took a deep breath and managed a smile. "I will do anything to help and make you happy."

I was stunned, frozen. Gabriella was a truly amazing person. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her swing closer to mine. Her shoulders jerked slightly and I could feel a damp spot spreading around my shoulder.

"You're my best friend," I said into her ear. She tilted up her head and gave me a (rather tear-sodden) kiss on the cheek, but I didn't blush this time. I just pushed her head into my chest and we rocked on the swings in the pool of yellow light, the only bit of real color in a sea of dark blue.

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Poor Gabi! We all love you::hugs::

Please review!

-OFsI