Part Ten: Coaxed

“Hey, Ryan,” Zeke greeted, arriving next to my locker. I eyed him sceptically. Hadn’t he heard? No, wait. He had been there when it happened.

“Hey…” I said slowly.

Zeke was smiling- not the expression I expected to see on one of the best friends of the guy I’d just dumped. He held up a Tupperware container in offering, “Cookie?”

I continued to watch him for a moment, then reached in for one as he shook it hopefully. As my fingers touched one of the cookies, he gasped. Realising my mistake, I pulled my head back quickly, but it was too late. “What happened to your hand?!”

“Nothing.”

His eyes flickered, but he just shook the tub again. “Then take a cookie,” he challenged.

I stared him down for a moment, then rolled my eyes and reached in again, taking a cookie as he studied my hand. I bit into it, acting casual. “They’re really good.”

“Who did that to your hand?”

“I did.” I took another bite of the cookie, chewed. “So what’s with the cookies?”

He shifted on his face, as if he were ashamed at being caught, “Chad’s very sorry.”

“Tell him it’s fine.” As his jaw dropped, I shrugged, “He’s loyal to his best friend. I don’t resent him for that.”

He sighed, closing his container, “But you’re not taking him back?”

“No.”

“But he’s so-”

“Sorry?” I finished. “Yeah, I know. And I’m not holding what he did against him, but it’s going to take more than undoubtedly delicious cookies to tempt me back.”

He sighed, “Okay.”

“Hi!” Gabriella enthused, bouncing up to us. Her eyes landed on the container still in Zeke’s hands at once, “Ooh… Are those what I think they are?”

“Double chocolate chip,” Zeke told her dutifully, opening it so she could take one. He offered it to me. “One for the road?”

I grinned, “Why not?” I took another cookie, ignoring Gabriella’s gasp of horror, and waved Zeke off. “So, what’s he got to say?” I asked her, taking a bite.

Her eyes went wide and faux-innocent, telling me that I was bang on the money with that assumption. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Montez.” I shrugged, “Plus, I saw him shove you in my direction.”

She groaned as I grinned at her condescendingly. “You’re good. Okay, here’s the deal: He feels terrible. He called me last night, and he was freaking out. Saying that you’d wrecked your hands.” She examined them as I bit into my cookie again, “And I’d say he was right about that.”

“Admittedly, not my best idea.”

“Ryan,” she said seriously. “I know that Troy can be a complete and utter moronic douche bag at times. He tends to act now and think later. But he does care about you. And he’d rather have you as a friend if nothing else.”

I rolled my eyes, “Gabi, we never were friends.”

“Never too late to start.”

I sighed, “Well, that’s not going to happen if he keeps hitting on me.”

“He’ll stop,” she promised. “He’ll act normal. Or…as normal as Troy’s capable of acting… He is a bit strange…” She glanced at her watch, realised the time, “Walk and talk, Evans.”

“I don’t know,” I said reluctantly as we walked down the corridor towards our form room. “It would be weird.”

She shook her head, “It wouldn’t. Please. He’s sorry. Just give him a chance. He won’t so much as look at you funny, and you can make a fair judgement on his character.”

I chuckled to myself, “If Chad had sent you, he’d be laughing. Zeke may have the baked goods, but you have the pitch.” As we walked into form, I followed her back to her desk, perched myself on it. “Okay. You tell him that I’ll give him one chance. I don’t want him to mention it, and we’ll just go straight into the friend attempt.”

She pulled me down into a slightly uncomfortable hug with a look of joy on her face, “Thank you! I’ll tell him. You won’t regret it. He’s great once you get to know him, and…y’know; he’s not eying you up and stuff.”

“Don’t you have a way with words…” I teased, pushing her in the arm playfully. Then Ms. Darbus bustled in, and I moved to my seat, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the two boys across the room.

*****

I steadied my feet on the ladder over the stage, and stretched up to use the staple gun to attach a lurid pink flower to the set for the new winter musical. Then I cursed as two more flowers slipped out from under my arm.

“Flowers falling,” a voice commented. “Apt for this season.” I turned on the ladder to see Chad standing in front of the stage, hands tucked into his pockets casually. He hopped up onto the stage in one oddly graceful move, and walked to collect them for me while I just watched him suspiciously from my ladder. “What’s with the flowers, anyway?”

I shrugged, “Sharpay’s orders. I’ve learnt not to disagree.” I took the blue one he held up, and went to staple it in place, “Least they’re not all pink.”

He handed me the last one, watched me attach it to the set. “How are your hands?”

“They’re fine,” I told him flippantly, climbing down the ladder and walking to set the staple gun on the set tool table. As I turned back, he caught my wrists in an expert move. I could see why he’d waited until the gun was out of my hands. “Let me go,” I ordered him, keeping my voice cool and my face hard.

But he ignored me, his eyes taking in the damage. “Why would you do this to yourself…?” he breathed.

I scoffed, jerking him off, “I didn’t mean to. This isn’t me self-harming over you.”

“No, this is you being too wrapped in your own fury to protect yourself before beating up a punch bag,” he retorted. I glared at him, wondering who had told him the gory details. It had to be either Troy or Sharpay. I moved back to take in the whole set critically.

“Be glad it was a punch bag and not someone’s face,” I said mildly. I frowned upwards suddenly. “That flower’s squint,” I muttered, starting forward.

He caught my arm, “Ryan, will you stop moving and just talk to me?!”

I stared into his face; saw the irritation on it now. The frustration in the crease between his brows, the annoyance reflected in the brown of his eyes. “I’ll talk to you once you have something interesting to say.”

“I don’t want us to be over.”

“I don’t like being called a liar.”

“I didn’t call you a liar!” he exploded, and he let go of my arm before his anger led him to do something he might later regret.

I took a single step back, narrowing my eyes at him, “Why are you even here? I told Zeke I didn’t mind you backing Troy.”

“But that you didn’t want to give it another go,” he added. “Why?”

I sighed. I hated explaining my feelings to people. The words never seemed to convey it properly. “Because…I don’t want to be with someone who thinks I’ve made something up. Someone who could easily use that against me in the future.”

He looked affronted, “How could you believe I would do that…?”

“Because it’s a rule, Chad,” I told him hotly. “Friends always come first. And I love that you think like that. I love that you’re so loyal to your friends. And I get that you don’t want to believe that Troy would ever do what I claim he did. But I don’t want to be there the day that you decide that I’m some attention seeker who wants to push you and Troy apart so that I can have you to myself.”

“That wouldn’t happen!”

I held up a hand, silencing his protest, “But it would. Because it always does. Because I’m not worth believing. People think: ‘Oh, that’s Sharpay’s twin. She’s lied in the past, so, hey, he must lie too!’” I looked up into his eyes, “It happens all the time, Chad. I’m not watching it happen again. Not this time.”

It was like he was looking at me through new eyes. He stared at me with a shocked expression, his mouth hanging open slightly. When he managed to speak, it came out in a whisper, “How can you have such a low opinion of yourself…?”