Wildcat in Bed

"What are you wearing?" I laughed at the yearbook picture in front of me. Obviously he'd decided to take full advantage of the fact that all of their pages had been printed in color. Baby blue slacks held up by a slim white belt, a pink button down topped off with a matching cotton candy colored newsboy cap, hair gelled to infinity and beyond. Was that lip-gloss? Oh goodness…

"Clothing." He replied simply from beside me. Snow was sweeping around outside as we sprawled on my bed, stomach down and side-by-side flipping through his senior yearbook. "I know, it's not something you like to get familiar with but…" He shrugged innocently, teasing me about the fact that both of us had been lounging around in our underclothes for the better part of the evening.

"Shut up." I smirked, rocking my shoulder sideways to knock against his gently. "Whose clothes are they exactly? Perez Hilton's?"

"I would like to point out that I got the best dressed superlative of my class, thank you very much."

A surprised look popping up over my face, I lifted the yearbook to take another glance at the cover.

"I didn't know you went to a school for the blind! How cute is that?!" I gushed, my eyes dancing wildly with amusement.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes, trying to keep his own smile contained, "It takes guts to wear that much pink."

"Yes, Ghengis Khan." I babied him playfully before pecking his mouth softly. "Whatever you say. I'm just glad your sense of fashion has…evolved somewhat."

"Would you not love me if I still dressed that way?" He pouted melodramatically. It wasn't that my boyfriend didn't still dress like a girl, 'cause he definitely did. It was just much less…obnoxious than these pictures made him look. His outfits nowadays, though a little snug and made of flamboyant fabrics, were always refined and put together with an edgy sort of classiness. My friends thought I was insane, but I couldn't help finding his sense of fashion sexy. Sure he didn't dress like a quarterback, but I knew I could take him anywhere and even the adults around us would be impressed.

"Of course I would…I'd just try not to go on any dates with you in public. So, el presidenté of the drama club, huh?"

"Well, co-presidenté. With my sister, see?" He pointed to the blonde I'd become very well acquainted with over Christmas break. February had since descended upon New York, leaving it with all the same wintery weather sans the holiday perks. Not that it mattered much, every moment I spent with Ryan was like a mini-vacation in and of itself. Although lately our time together had been more and more limited, due to all his practices and classes and rehearsals. Even when he did have time, I had cheerleading and study groups and papers to attend to. Still, the spaces we set aside in our schedules for one another were always worth the wait.

"Oh, right. Hey, why do most of these people totally not look like they belong in a theatre?"

"Ah, because they didn't. Those two, Taylor and Gabriella? Total brainiacs. Scholastic Decathlon champs two years in a row."

"What about these two guys. They look way too cute to be in a high school musical."

Ryan looked over at me with his eyebrow arched at my admiring tone. It took me a moment to catch his glare, so caught up was I with the boys in the picture, but when I did a blush flooded my cheeks.

"Not that musical theatre guys can't be cute…but you're not the rule Ry, you're kind of the exception."

"They were jocks. Heads of the basketball team. State champs, back-to-back." He forced the words out, tone flat with a lack of amusement at the way I was looking at their picture.

"Wow." My face glowed with unconscious appreciation for their accomplishments. I didn't mean to be so insensitive to my boyfriend, but athletic guys had been a lifelong weakness. Ryan was just an anomaly. An amazing, hot, and sweeter-than-I-deserved anomaly. But there was no mistaking that he fit into my life at a very awkward angle.

"You're a Trojan, aren't you." He told me, in a tone of voice suggesting this was a diagnosis of some kind of disease that was eventually going to kill me.

"Uh…my family is English and Italian?" I gave him a confused look, wondering what on earth he could be talking about. "You look devastated…is it that bad?"

"Not really, I guess." He shrugged, "S'not like you can help it. Most girls are Trojans."

"Could you enlighten me as to the meaning of this foreign label you're slapping on me?" I pleaded.

Suddenly, he took the yearbook back and began flipping through it before landing on a full color shot of one of their basketball games. The picture took up both pages, splattered here and there with mini portraits of Wildcat players. The centerpiece of the biggest photo was an abnormally attractive high schooler putting a basketball up for three points, a look of determination on his face and a small 'C' patch covering his left shoulder. He was also one of the boys I'd said looked out of place in a drama club photo.

"Trojan is my name for girls who fall for the all-star types. The golden boy athletes with tan skin, broad shoulders and a good jump shot. At East High, that boy's name was Troy Bolton. Star of the basketball team, son of the coach, wanted by all."

"And he was in a musical?"

"Two actually, had leads in both."

"Damn." I mumbled, looking back down at the photograph.

"If this were a movie, you'd end up with him at the end, wouldn't you?" It wasn't even a question, but more of a statement. As though this realization were just dawning on him. As though the connection between the jocks he'd had to endure all through high school and the girl he'd accidentally fallen in love with in college was just then becoming real.

"Ryan, you know I cheer. Come on, just 'cause I like basketball games and the clothes at Abercrombie… what does it matter?"

"I know, it's just…"Sighing, he shook his head and shifted positions to lay on his back, trying to articulate the sadness in his eyes as he stared at the ceiling. "I know I'm not the guy you always dreamt about, ya know? I know if you could you'd have me playing basketball or football or something. A little taller with wider shoulders and tan skin. Baggy jeans and untucked shirts. I know at the end of the day, I'm not your prince charming. And sometimes I feel like I'm fooling myself with the hope that I ever could be."

"Why would you say that?" A hurt look pulled down my face as I sat up to face him, laying a hand on his cheek and caressing my thumb back and forth as I stared down into those eyes of his.

"Because it's true." Taking my hand from his face, he held it to his chest and tried to ease my fears with words he thought would chase this back under the rug. "Don't worry, I know you love me. Sometimes I just remember how different we are. It's no big deal."

"It is if it bothers you that much." I mumbled, curling up against his side. "Ryan, I chose you. Those boys are hot, but they're not you. They wouldn't take longer than me to get ready or go shopping with me. They would never help me stretch before cheer practice or try to teach me to play the piano. They wouldn't be able to dance like you or sing to me like only you can. I love you Ryan, not just because you're attractive or because my parents like you but because I don't want anyone else. I promise."

For a moment he just stared at me in silence, trying to take in what I'd said. Attempting to erase his insecurities about our relationship in some real sense.

"I want you too." He assured me. "It's not that I doubt our feelings for each other, I just doubt how long this can work."

"It'll work as long as we want it bad enough." I told him, firmly believing that if we just tried we could make it.

"Love isn't always enough." He reminded me. "Plenty of people fall in love. It's their lives that rip them apart."

Leaning down, I kissed him firmly and stayed there for longer than usual, trying desperately to make him feel how much I needed him. How much I never wanted to let him go. Finally however, for lack of air, I had no choice but to pull away.

"Does it count that I don't want that to ever happen?" I breathed, his face still in my hands.

"It absolutely does." He nodded, the smile on his face softly lighting up his eyes.

I always felt like Ryan would have felt out of place in high school. He obviously enjoyed himself, but let's be honest. Kids like him don't always fit in and it can be tough for them and that feeling of always being on the outside of things takes a little while to get over. So I kind of wanted to explore what that had done to Ryan, since we usually only ever see his confident, energetic side. Tell me what you think! ;)

-Rachel