Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hot, hard abs. Smooth, shining, just out of reach. Pecs, arms, all muscle. He's hard and he wants but it's all just beyond grasp. If he could just touch or see, but he can't look up and see who it is. Or down. But it's dark and everything gets fuzzy and he doesn't want to lose him, lose the feeling, the rubbing, the- ah right there. He's tangled, twisted, rubbing, if only there could be more, more, more. BEEP BEEP BEEP

Fuck.

The alarm clock. He shudders, pulling an arm free from where it's tangled in the sheets to turn it off. Normally he'd hit snooze until the last possible second, but not after a dream like that. He practically springs from bed, rubbing sleep and the lingering visuals out of his eyes. It was just a dream, the unconscious mind doing unconscious things. If he can just get away from his bed, out of his room, into the bathroom, a cold shower, put some physical distance between himself and his dream everything will be okay. It's totally normal and doesn't mean anything and he's absolutely fine, a-okay, normal.

Even still, Chad can't help but think that the day just started and already it's going to suck.

---

He's doing it for the car. Chad just needs to keep telling himself that. The car will make it all worth it. Because otherwise he's going to dump the iced tea with 'too much ice', 'oh, no that's not enough ice', 'this is unsweetened? I really want sweetened', 'wait, it's sweetend with sugar? I only use fat-free, non-aspartame artificial sweeteners' on Mrs. Bates stick-up-her-ass head.

Chad walks back to the kitchen scowling. This job sucks. If only he didn't need the money. Then he sees Troy. And there's that too. Troy, for some inexplicable reason, loves the job. And it's not even the Gabi thing, because she's off by the pool and not in the kitchen with them, so they barely see each other. In fact, that seems to be the one downside that Troy sees with the job, not the members or Fulton or any of that. But that he doesn't see enough of Gabi. When Troy complains about it, Chad just smiles and nods. He doesn't get it. One, Gabi keeps dragging them into ridiculous musical things. And two, he and Taylor work better the less they see each other.

But there Chad is, by the food prep, doing something to make Martha laugh. Chad walks up to him to see what's so funny, and Troy offers Chad his arm. Chad totally missed the joke, but he plays along, taking Troy's arm, half a step behind as Troy leads them skipping across the room. And it's easy to pick up on the song Troy's singing, since they've been singing doing the same buddy routine since they met at the after school basketball program in second grade.

So of course that's when Fulton walks into the kitchen to make Chad's life even more of a living hell. "Danfoth. Bolton. You're caddying today. $40 a bag. You've been requested."

"By who?" Troy asks.

"Dude! Who cares? For 40 bucks I'd caddy for Godzilla." Plus, caddying gets them out of this awful, awful kitchen. They'll be outside, on the golf course. And caddying is easy. Chad knows exactly what to do-- carry the golf bag around the golf course. None of this insane re-serving a glass of water or ice tea over and over again because bored rich people need something to entertain themselves

Chad's practically forgotten that Fulton is there, lost in fantasies of money and betting to be outside in the sunshine, until he says, "Close, very close." Chad looks at Troy disbelieving and finds that Troy looks worried. Then again, Troy likes being in the kitchen, so what does he know? Maybe today is looking up.

Then Fulton's leaving, grabbing a cookie cookie from the tray Zeke's carrying, mumbling an unmeaning "thanks," gesturing for Troy and Chad to follow him. So they do.

---

They're caddying for the Evanses. For once, Fulton was right. Chad would have preferred Godzilla.

---

"Oh Troy, that was so much fun, we have to do this again," Sharpay tells Troy as he puts her clubs away. Chad rolls his eyes, listening to Troy try to stammer out something that sounds like a thank you and an oh my god never again at the same time.

Chad was so wrong about caddying, which seems to be par for the course today (and haha, he's making golf jokes in his head). Even for the money, he'd rather have spent the day waiting tables. There's nothing worse then spending the day with the Evanses. They're just so… annoying, maybe. Chad doesn't even know. Sharpay is shrill and soul sucking. And Ryan is just so gay. It's weird and uncomfortable and awkward and Ryan never seems to get it. If Ryan would just look like he knew it was weird, maybe it wouldn't be such a problem, but he never does. He's just so out there that Chad has to shoulder all the crawling skin and stomach knots and uncomfortableness by himself when he's the normal one. It's just not fair and everything would be so much better if Ryan would just go away.

But no. Instead he's everywhere Chad turns, with his stupid family who're so impressed with themselves, being happy and laughing and frankly, just sucking at golf. Mrs. Evans and Sharpay were so bad they even made Ryan look good at it. And don't they realize it's a sport? It's competitive. They're supposed to be trying to win. Not make Chad go deaf from all the shrieking.

He just wishes Ryan and the whole Evans family would go away. Barring that, he and Troy really need to get going. Chad's sure that Mr. Fulton will be waiting for them to serve dinner perfectly cleaned and pressed despite having spent the day dragging around golf bags in the hot sun.

So Chad goes to rescue Troy from his own good nature. "Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Evans," he cuts in. "Troy and I really need to go get ready for serving dinner."

"Of course, son," Mr. Evans booms. "You need to go get ready for dinner," he repeats as though Chad didn't just say that. Because all thoughts in the world must originate with Mr. Evans, he's just that smart. "Go ahead, thanks for caddying."

"You're welcome," Chad says, barely getting the words out before he's turning around to pull Troy back to the employee locker rooms with him.

"Dude, you would have been stuck in that conversation forever," Chad says to Troy once they're out of ear shot.

"I know," Troy says. "I just don't know how to get Sharpay to leave me alone."

"You can start by not humoring her all the time."

"I don't humor her. I'm just a nice guy. And we're being paid to listen to her."

"Well, you're going to nice-guy yourself out of a girlfriend."

"No way, Gabi is awesome and she knows I totally love her." Troy pauses, then, "Did I tell you I'm having dinner with her tonight?"

Chad sighs inwardly. He didn't mean to start another one of Troy's Gabi-is-awesome speeches. He's past the point where he wants to break them up. And really, Troy should be giving Gabi 'my best friend Chad is awesome' speeches. Because she's the one who doesn't like him, not the other way around. But he does still feel bad for the whole Spring Musical thing, so he shuts up and lets Troy continue talking about it all the way through changing back into their waiters outfits and going back to the kitchen.

Now that his golf caddy shoes are off and he's back in his regular waiter loafers, his feet feel just how much they walked chasing Sharpay's golf balls all over the course. Which is a perfect opportunity to interrupt Troy's date plans with, "Man, my feet are killing me, that was totally more than eighteen holes of walking."

"I know," Troy says. "I couldn't say anything but those Evanses really suck at golf."

"I know, man." He wishes they could relax in the jacuzzi or swim in the pool or anything other than go spend the next however many hours on their feet serving dinner. Which gives him an idea. "I bet we could totally get Zeke to lend us some sea salt to soak our feet in."

"Oh yeah, that would be totally awesome."

And of course Zeke is game for it. Chad rescued Troy in enough time that dinner service hasn't quite started yet, and they can relax and complain about the day. Troy thinks Sharpay would be the perfect person to send to colonize the moon.

Chad's fantasies are a little closer to home, and after a day like today, a little more violent. "Next time I see Country Club Princess I'm gonna launch her and her pink cart straight into the lake."

"I'll build the ramp, buddy," and Chad smiles at that.

Of course, Fulton can smell people having fun at Lava Springs like a shark can smell blood in the water, so he comes in barking, "Danforth, this is a kitchen, not a day spa. You and Jason suit up for dinner duty in the dining room."

Fulton pulls Troy up and Chad and Troy exchange a confused look, because Troy always serves dinner. But Chad doesn't have time to linger to see what Fulton has for Troy. He gets his apron and tray set to begin dinner. He's gotten quick at it since the summer began, and he's ready to go way before Jason, who's usually working in the back, doing dishes.

Which is good, because the next thing Chad knows, Fulton's back shouting at him again, this time, thankfully giving him a ten minute break before dinner service begins. And with a "chop-chop," from Fulton, he's darting out of the room to take full advantage of it.

Just outside the door, he finds Troy, who has suddenly acquired a suit on a hanger and a blue tie hanging around his neck. "What?" Chad begins to ask, but Troy doesn't even let him get the full sentence out before he answers.

"I've been invited to eat dinner with the Evanses, can you believe it?" Troy says, disbelievingly.

"That's ridiculous," Chad says, because there's really no other way to put it. Not good (certainly not good because Chad never wants to see the Evanses again) and not bad (because Troy gets out of working for the evening, and he gets to eat a real Lava Springs dinner; for all its faults, Lava Springs has amazing food). Just ridiculous.

"If I'm not back, can you tell Gabi I'll be late?" Troy says urgently. And of course he's not using this dinner as an excuse to make fun of the Evanses with Chad. That's what Chad would do. He's just worried about Gabi missing him.

But Chad's a good friend, so he says, "Sure, I'll tell her."

Troy spares him time for a, "Thanks, man," before running off to change for his fancy dinner.

---

Chad's headed to the locker room when he runs into Ryan, because every time he thinks his day can't get any worse, it does. The hallways in this part of the club are narrow, so Chad is totally claiming that it's an accident when he shoves past Ryan, shouldering him out of the way.

"Hey," Ryan says, pissed off. "Watch where you're going!"

"Make me," Chad mutters under his breath, continuing down the hallway, itching for a fight.

"I could," Ryan says, angry, rising to Chad's challenge, stopping Chad in his tracks. "I own the club after all," Ryan sneers.

"Oh, that's right, you'll run and tell Mommy." He hates everything about Evans, the spoiled rich-kid-ness of it all. It kills Chad. "Fucking fairy," he mumbles under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Noth-"

Ryan cuts him off before he can even finish the word. "That wasn't nothing. If you're gonna say it, say it." Ryan moves so he's standing right in front of him, so close that Chad can't not look at him. There's nowhere else to look. They're having this out.

"Fag. There, happy?" Chad spits out the words, challengingly, leaning forward, straining into Ryan's space. His heart is pounding, adrenaline racing, whole body hot and flushed angry. Why does Ryan always have to be there, getting in Chad's face? If he would just go away, everything would be okay. If Ryan were just not there, it would be fine. Chad wouldn't have to think about it, about guys, about everything.

Chad realizes he's been staring at Ryan and glances down. Chad's fists are clenched, arms tensed for a fight. He hates Ryan. It would be so easy to just do something- punch Ryan, hit him, push him into the wall, make him stop looking at Chad, make him stop making Chad think things.

Ryan looks right in Chad's eyes when he says, "Asshole," and something in Chad breaks.

"Oh, how original," Chad leans back, pulling out of Ryan's space, and his fists drop back to hands at his side. He needs to get out of here, away from Ryan, back to his friends, his life, where things are safe.

Chad turns to leave, walking past Ryan to go the way he came, this time leaving plenty of space between them, like he's afraid to catch something from Ryan.

Ryan's not done. "Go back to serving drinks and stay the fuck out of my way," he calls after him.

Chad pauses, and opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. He has nothing to say. For once, he and Ryan are in agreement. Chad wants nothing more than to stay way the hell out of Ryan's way.

---

Dinner service is thankfully, finally over. Because some cosmic force decided today would be the worst day ever in Chad's life, the Evanses and Troy were seated in Chad's dining section tonight, and Chad had to serve them all of their seven million courses in the longest dinner in the history of ever.

When dinner is finally done and Chad can clock out, he goes to see who's still around who might have a car to drive him home. He really doesn't want to have to call his mom, although he will if he needs to. She picked up double shifts this summer because they're all worried about paying for college, and when he thinks about that he's less angry at the whole job situation this summer, just thankful.

It's not until he's walking by the pool and sees Gabi that he remembers his promise to Troy. And it seems like he's too late, because before he can get to her, she's calling out to him, "Hey, Chad."

He picks up his pace, hurrying over to where she is, answering with a, "Hey, Gabi."

"Have you seen Troy?"

"Yeah, sorry, he told me to tell you he's stuck having dinner with the Evanses tonight."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know," he answers, shrugging. "They invited him."

"Wow, thanks," she says, rolling her eyes. "That was rhetorical."

"Oh." Then, because he's trying to get Gabi not to hate him, he adds, "Don't worry about it. Sharpay's totally a bitch. Troy will never fall for her tricks."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"Um." It was, but as bad as he is at reading Gabi, her wrinkled nose and raised eyebrows scream disbelief at him. Chad doesn't get girls. She hates him because he tried to break her and Troy up. So shouldn't she be glad that he's supporting their dating now? But no matter what his answer is, when it comes to girls he's always wrong. Even more so with Gabi than most.
"Being nasty about Sharpay isn't going to make me like you. She's not that bad."

At that, Chad snorts. Because there's no way Gabi's serious. Sharpay is exactly that bad. And this time, at least, it seems he's right, because it looks like Gabi's fighting a smile at his snort as she says, "And even if she is, I am better than that."

Chad returns Gabi's half smile with a full one of his own. He knew he'd win her over eventually. Except it seems he's too quick with that thought because she's dropped her smile and looking vaguely unhappy again.

"You know what your problem is?" she asks.

"No."

"You judge people before you get to know them."

"No, I don't," Chad says defensively. He's a totally nice people person. Some people just suck. And he so doesn't need this today.

But Gabi's not letting him go. "Yes, you do. You judged me and decided I wasn't good enough for Troy. And now you're doing it to Sharpay."

That's not fair. "I spent all day caddying for the Evanses, and they're all crazy," Chad says.

"Sharpay totally helped Troy and me with the spring musical," Gabi says. "And Ryan is so nice. He was helping me choreograph water aerobics the other day and he was great with it."

"Ryan is not nice," Chad says defensively. He is not.

"Oh yeah, why not?" Gabi challenges him.

"We-" Chad starts. But he can't tell Gabi about the fight in his hallway. He flushes hot just thinking about it, Ryan so close and so angry, treating Chad like nothing, like dirt, acting like he has nothing to be ashamed of. He can't tell Gabi anything. So his abortive sentence is left hanging.

Gabi takes it as confirmation of her point. "Exactly," she says. "You should get to know people before you decide you don't like them. And, if you took a moment to step into someone else's shoes, you'd probably realize that you're the jerk."

Chad says nothing, because there's nothing you can say to that. He just stands there as Gabi folds towels, unsure if he should leave for not. Gabi answers that for him, speaking again, "Thanks for letting me know about Troy."

That's a clear dismissal. And Chad is glad to take it, leaving the pool area, decided finding a ride isn't worth is, he's calling home and putting this whole day behind him.

---

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Chad swipes his hand at the noise, holding on to the last traces of pure, dreamless, sleep. The noise is coming from a phone. Not his phone. An iPhone. And it's ringing. Before he's even processed this his sleep-numb fingers have hit the screen, answering it, so he might as well say something. "Hello?" he answers groggily.

"Who are you and what are you doing with my phone?" a much more awake voice on the other end asks.

"Who is this?" he says. He's still not awake, but he doesn't remember taking anyone's phone.

"What do you mean, 'who is this?'" the voice says, getting angrier. "You're the one who kidnapped me and stole my phone."

"I didn't kidnap you or take your phone, psycho," he says, waking up just enough to be confused by the crazy person on the other end of the phone. "I was asleep, until you called."

"Then how do you have my phone?"

"It's not-" he starts to defend himself, because even half asleep he would know if he stole a phone, and he didn't. Then he remembers he's talking to a crazy stranger on what is definitely not his iPhone. "Okay," he concedes, "so it's not my phone. Maybe it is yours."

"Oh my god, how do you not know if it's my phone? You're the one that kidnapped me," crazy guy says.

"Again, I didn't kidnap you," he says. And then, "Hold on, let me get up. Maybe we can figure out what happened."

"What do you mean 'we'?" crazy person says, starting to get shrill. "You kidnapped me."

"God, shut up," he says, exasperated. "I didn't kidnap you, you fucking drama queen."

"Oh great, not only did you kidnap me, now you're making fun of me too."

"For the last time, I didn't-" he starts, then cuts off, in a huff of exertion. "Never mind, I'm up. I'm gonna see if I can figure out what happened."

"Fine," crazy person says before falling silent.

Chad gets out of bed. And now that he's awake, he realizes it's not his bed. Where Chad knows he has a dark green, plaid bedspread is a mound of cream and blue rumpled blankets he just climbed out of. And maybe crazy guy's not so crazy, because he knows he fell asleep in his old, familiar bed, in his old, familiar room.

This is not Chad's room at all. It's easily twice the size of Chad's, and none of his clothes or sneakers are strewn all over the floor, the way he knows he left them yesterday. There's no basketball in the corner, or koosh hoop over the doorway. In fact, the giant room is crazy neat, big and empty, all the stuff presumably put away in the walls of light wood cabinets.

Whoever's room this is, they must be loaded. There's a flat screen TV on a dresser across from the bed, and speakers hung discreetly in the corners. Because if the iPhone wasn't enough, the far bedside table has a sleek, new-looking Macbook.

Tech jealousy firmly in place, Chad turns around to see if he can find anything else that might explain who crazy guy is or where he is. There's something on the wall behind him. He doesn't register that it's a mirror until he turns around again. He brings up his hand. So does the person on the wall. He wiggles his fingers. So does the other person. He does it again, just to be sure. And the reflection follows.

Then, he picks up the phone again, and tentatively asks, "Ryan?"

"I thought you didn't know who I was?" Ryan says, pissy.

"No, Ryan," Chad says, panicked, voice that's not his own going high and breathless. "Look in the mirror."

There's silence, presumably while Ryan gets up and finds a mirror. Then, "Chad?"

"Yeah, Ryan?" he says. He almost doesn't want Ryan to say it. Doesn't want him to confirm whatever horrible, horrible thing is happening. But Chad's having a string of bad luck with first thing in the morning wishes.

"I'm-" Ryan starts, and Chad doesn't need it confirmed, because he can hear the confusion in his own voice. But when Ryan starts again, it's not in confusion. "What did you do?" he asks accusingly.

"Me?" Chad says in disbelief. This is his worst nightmare. He would never do this intentionally. He still can't really process what happened. Maybe he's in shock. Or still dreaming. This can't possibly be happening in real life. Things like this just don't happen.

"Yes, you. What did you do?"

"Nothing. What did you do?"

"I didn't do this," Ryan says.

"Well, neither did I!" Chad says, barely keeping from shouting.

"Of course not," Ryan says, but he sounds like he doesn't believe Chad at all.

There's a muffled noise at the other end of the line, and then, "Crap," said under Ryan's breath.

"What?" Chad asks.

"Your mom," Ryan says. "She's looking for you."

"Oh, yeah, I need to go to work."

"Uh-"

"Just put on clothes, don't say much, and go with her. Mom drives me to Lava Springs every morning on her way to work. I'll meet you there and you can fix whatever you did."

"I didn't do it," Ryan says. Then, "Wait, what?" Chad's not happy with it either, having to go out as Ryan. But whatever Ryan did isn't going to fix itself by Chad hiding in Ryan's room. Ryan must have figured out what Chad's suggesting, because he adds, "Wear a hat."

"What? Why?" Chad asks. Out of all the things you could tell someone who's has to pretend to be you, that's what Ryan deems important? He really is shallow.

"You're in my body. Wear a hat," Ryan repeats, not clarifying anything at all.

"Fine, I'll wear a hat," Chad says. He wonders if there's anything he should tell Ryan. There are too many things. Don't be gay. Don't sing. Don't dance. Be nice to my friends. Flirt with Taylor. You're playing basketball tonight with the guys. Have fun. Don't look at them. Don't look at them that way. But it's too much. Ryan will just never be Chad, like Chad will never, ever be like Ryan. So he just says, "Go hurry up. My mom doesn't wait for stragglers."

---

'Maybe I'll show up in just a hat,' Chad thinks hysterically when he steps into Ryan's closet. It's huge. For starters, Chad can step into it. And then he can keep stepping. It's not so much a closet as it is a room filled with all sorts of clothes in color order. And Chad's expected to find something to wear in it.

The first item Chad's eyes are drawn to are a sequined. . . a sequined something. Chad doesn't know what it is. And hanging off the back of the striped not-top, not-pants is a green glittery head with googley eyes and a ruffled blue thing. With this in his closet, Chad doesn't think Ryan should be allowed to make fun of other people's clothing. But that's not the point. The thing is not helping Chad get dressed and back to himself, so he puts the monstrosity aside and keeps looking.

Rows of pastel polos follow, and then button-down shirts in every color and pattern imaginable. Then come the sweaters, which go on for far longer than sweaters every should, and Chad lets out a bubble of hysterical laughter that at least he can be thankful it's the summer and he doesn't need to touch the sweater section. Coming up to the back wall of the closet, Chad finds pants, and it feels like he's been flipping through clothes forever already. So he grabs a pair of black pants, without over-thinking it. They're black pants. If somehow he screwed that up, well, that's Ryan's problem.

Chad turns, and the monstrosity must have been hiding this at the front of the closet. Because beyond the sweaters, there's another row. There are hats. A whole wall of them, floor to ceiling shelves of neatly lined up fedoras and newsboy caps, a cowboy hat and even a ridiculous straw sombrero. Chad is stunned in place. Maybe hats really are what Ryan's all about. It's overwhelming, and ridiculous, and underlines just how surreal this is. Chad's not Chad. And now he's standing in front of a wall of hats. He would think he's dreaming except for how all the laws of physics are being obeyed. He's not flying, or walking on the ceiling, or anything. He's just not himself.

He pinches himself, just to be sure. But all it does is hurt. It doesn't make him wake up in his own bed. It doesn't make his hair grow out into a fro or make the closet shrink down to a regular size, cramped with slogan t-shirts and basketball sneakers. It doesn't get rid of the dozens of hats on display in front of him.

He's standing there, no idea what to do, just scanning the wall. Choosing a hat shouldn't be this hard. But it's the first step in being Ryan, and that's an insurmountable challenge Chad doesn't want to undertake. A red fedora catches his eye, and it's as good as any; better even because it's in East High colors, so he grabs it and heads back the way he came. He grabs a green polo, because it's there, and that's really all the thought that Chad can spare to give it before he loses it entirely. The sooner he can get dressed and get to Lava Springs, the sooner he can put this whole mess behind him.

---

Chad forgot about the cars. Or more specifically, that Ryan presumably has one that Chad will get to drive to Lava Springs. Chad found keys in Ryan's bag, and, finally ready to go, he went down to check out the garage.

There's Sharpay's hideous pink convertible, which means Sharpay must still be asleep somewhere in the house. Chad shudders at the thought, and is so glad he's getting out of here before he has to see her.

Beyond that is an absolute dream. A blue BMW Z4. It's so perfect Chad's afraid to even touch it. He holds his hands out, runs them along the hood, a hairsbreadth away from touching it, like there's an invisible forcefield surrounding the car's sheer perfection. And it is perfect, absolutely beautiful, with dark tinted windows and a retractable hard top that's up at the moment. It's just not fair that Ryan gets this beauty of a car.

Chad stumbles back at that thought, fumbling with Ryan's bag for keys. This could be Ryan's car. Which would mean that Chad gets to drive it.

Recovering the keys from the bottom of Ryan's bag, Chad clicks the lock and deflates as something behind him chirps to life. This isn't Ryan's car. Chad reluctantly turns away, eyes glued to the convertible for as long as he can keep it in his sight, until he's all the way around.

And finds a Vespa. A bright, baby-blue Vespa. His life cannot get any more ridiculous.

---

Ryan is pacing the parking lot in Chad's body, when Chad finally shows up.

"What are you doing out here?" Chad hisses at him, before Ryan can open his mouth. "You're supposed to be at work."

"My parents own the club, it's okay."

"Mine don't," Chad says. "And you're wearing my body."

"Yes, but if I'm with you, Fulton will think I'm with Ryan and you can just say it's okay. He has to do what I say."

"Well, isn't life nice for you," Chad sneers.
"Not at the moment," Ryan says. "Right now, I'm stuck in your body."

"And I'm stuck in yours, so don't pull your whiny shit about it."

"You are infuriating," Ryan says, before grabbing Chad's arm and pulling him towards the back entrance of the fitness wing. Chad pulls his arm away, but Ryan's grip on his arm holds. Ryan's body is either a lot weaker than Chad realized, or Chad's is a lot stronger. So he has no choice but to follow.

Once inside, Ryan lets go. "We can talk here."

"Where are we?" Chad asks, looking around at the giant mirror at the front of the room. Ryan follows Chad's gaze. It's still not any less startling.

When he looks into his own eyes, he's looking back at Ryan's. And there's Ryan, right over there in Chad's body. And this wasn't funny when it started, and it's certainly not funny now. Chad just wants it over. Wants to be back in his own body and done with this not-funny practical joke of Ryan's.

"My dance studio," Ryan says, answering Chad's question.

"Oh," Chad says, still not looking away from their backwards, flipped, not right reflections. "So, you really didn't do this?" He watches as the wrong body speaks.

In the mirror, Chad sees Ryan look away from their reflections, and at Chad. "No, I didn't." Then, "You really didn't either?"

"No, why would I want to be you?" Chad says.

"So what are we going to do?" Ryan asks.

Chad has no idea, and that's terrifying. He doesn't want to be Ryan. But he has to be at work right now. He can't deal with this right now. It's bad enough his this has messed up his life, he can't let it mess up his life, as messed up as that sounds. "I think you're going to have to go work for me," Chad says. "I really can't miss work. I'm saving for a car."

"Oh," Ryan says. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. What do you usually do all day?"

"Hang out with Sharpay, sit by the poll, yoga, dance, whatever. It's summer, you know?"

"Oh," Chad says. He doesn't know, obviously, he's working this summer. But Ryan needs to go work, so all he says is, "I don't think I should hang out with Sharpay."

Ryan laughs, and Chad's about to be offended, because nothing about him or about this nightmare is funny. Then Ryan speaks: "No, you should definitely not hang out with Sharpay. She'll know it's not me immediately." Ryan pauses. "You can hide out here. It's my private dance studio, no one should bother you."

"You have your own dance studio?" The more Chad learns about Ryan's life the more charmed and ridiculous it is. Chad wants to have the whole summer free. Only he wouldn't waste the time dancing in some stupid talent show. He could be playing so much basketball, and training for the season, for scholarships, although in his fantasy he wouldn't need one.

"It used to be for yoga classes, but my parents had it converted when I started choreographing seriously. They have the large studio for yoga. They didn't need this one."

"Oh," Chad says. Of course.

Chad's interrupted from his jealous pondering by Ryan, apparently panicking, "What am I going to have to do for work?"

"I'm a waiter," Chad says. The job is pretty self-explanatory. And Chad knows for a fact that Ryan's been on the waited-on end of the Lava Springs restaurants. He should know what to do. "You've been to restaurants. You go to the table, ask what the people want, write it down, bring it back to the kitchen, then when the food's ready, bring it out to them." It really is that easy.

Then something dawns on him. "Try not to say much to my friends. Just be, you know, friendly." This is much more important than taking orders. Ryan has the potential to screw with the Wildcats.

"No problem," Ryan says. "I'm an actor, I can handle it."

This doesn't ease Chad's nerves at all. "No, really, just," he stalls, racking his brain, "pretend they're, like, Sharpay, you know, people you like. Don't be a jerk."

"Why not? You're a jerk and they like you," Ryan says, rolling his eyes, turning to go. Chad just stands there, looking at him. Ryan grabs Chad, and pulls him along behind him.

This time, Chad pulls hard enough to wretch his hand free from Ryan's grasp. "No, really, don't mess with my friends."

Ryan sighs. "I won't, now let's go."

"Where?"

"To your job. Or do you suddenly not care about that anymore? You need to tell Fulton it's okay I'm late," Ryan says.

"Oh, right," Chad says, having forgotten all about that while worrying about what Ryan was going to say to his friends.

They get to the kitchens and there's Fulton, waiting to make Chad's life a living nightmare. Except Fulton smiles when he looks at Chad, and says, "Good morning, Mr. Evans." Chad's never seen him smile before."Mr. Danforth." And ah, there's the scowl Chad is used to. Except it's not directed at him. It's directed at Ryan. And maybe there is a plus side to this-- karmic retribution. Fulton being a dick to an Evans for a change. "You're late."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fulton," Ryan says. "Ryan needed me."

Fulton looks at Chad again. And looks. It's weird. Then Ryan elbows him, and says, "Isn't that right?"

He's Ryan. Right. "Oh, uh, yeah, I needed Chad for something."

"Oh, no problem, Mr. Evans," Fulton says.

Then, to Ryan, "Well, go clock in." Ryan gives Chad one last long look, before turning to clock in.

Now that Ryan is done with him, he's off to work Chad's job. Everyone in the kitchen is ignoring Chad, since he's Ryan. It's exactly as it should be. For as long as Chad is Ryan, they'll have no need for him. It's a depressing thought to accompany him back to Ryan's dance studio for the day.

--

Hiding in Ryan's dance studio isn't so bad for the first few hours. Chad doesn't actually know anyone who has an iPhone, so playing on Ryan's is awesome. Chad reads all the top stories on ESPN and checks out what music Ryan has. Then he updates Ryan's Facebook status because it seems like something that would piss off Ryan. Then he finds game apps on Ryan's phone and gets super competitive about beating Ryan's high score.

And actually, that's another good thing that would piss Ryan off. So Chad plays Tetris, (beating Ryan's high score on practically the first try) and Brick Breaker (only actually beating Ryan's high score by a tiny bit after playing forever). Then Chad finds Bejeweled and tries to beat Ryan's high score, but fails. And then continues to fail and fail and fail until the point where he would throw the phone across the room, except, you know, it's an iPhone, and you just can't do that to an iPhone.

Ryan shows up at early lunch time with a grilled chicken salad for Chad, which makes Chad want to go back to beating all of Ryan's high scores because he knows good and well that Lava Springs serves the best burgers and spicy sweet potato fries, and he's stuck with a salad. But Ryan doesn't stick around long enough to get pissed at any of Chad's diabolical phone shenanigans. He just drops off the salad with a frazzled, "I don't know how you do it."

"What?" Chad asks.

"This job," he says, shaking his head, curls bouncing around ridiculously, and Chad seriously hopes he doesn't look like that. "I've got to go back before Fulton or anyone notices I'm gone. Bye," and he leaves.

So Chad eats the damn salad.

He's bored. He's been hiding for four hours, seventeen minutes, and approximately fourteen, no fifteen, no sixteen seconds, and since he put down the iPhone there's really nothing to do in a big empty room.

He gets up from where he's been sitting on the floor with his back against the mirrored wall and paces to the other side of the room. He turns around to pace back, and is startled. It's Ryan looking at him. He averts his eyes, looks down at his shoes and paces back, until he reaches the mirrored wall and can pivot back around. Maybe pacing is out.

Chad jumps up and down a few times, runs in place, shakes out his arms. He is really not good at sitting still. Everyone knows it. He's kind of impressed that he lasted as long as he did that morning. But now he's going stir crazy. If only he could go out and run for a little while, or shoot hoops, or something. He could see what this body is capable of.

There's not much he can do in the dance studio. But he can take off his hat, drop to the floor, and do some push ups. Up, down, up, down. It's better than nothing. And Ryan must be stronger than he looks, because Chad isn't one of those wimps who fudges his form or struggles through the bare minimum in gym the way most of his classmates do (even some of the guys on the team). And Chad blows right through the minimum and just keeps going. Up, down, up, down. He starts to feel the burn in his arms sooner than he normally does, but much later than he thought he would.

Chad feels the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the muscles in his arms shaking when someone bursts into the room.

"Ryan! What are you doing?!?" Sharpay shrieks, causing Chad to collapse down on the floor.

"Uh. . ." Chad says, stalling. "Push-ups."

"I can see that," Sharpay says. "Why?"

Why didn't Ryan tell him what to do? Oh, that's right. Because the whole game plan was to avoid Sharpay. "Um. . ." Chad says. He's just going to say as little as possible.

Sharpay seems to agree, snapping "Never mind, it's not important." Maybe Sharpay and Evan really do share one brain. Except no, because then Sharpay would definitely know he's not Ryan. And she just continues talking. "I thought we were going to rehearse the Star Dazzle performance this afternoon. And then you went missing all morning. I mean, I know Troy's not available to practice, because he has to work," Sharpay rolls her eyes dramatically at that, like she can't fathom the concept of work, "but it's still important we practice. It has to be perfect. I want that trophy."

"I can't," Chad blurts out. Because he does not dance. And he definitely can't dance a routine he doesn't know with Sharpay. She will know something's wrong before they even start.

"Why?" Sharpay asks. "You're too busy hanging out by yourself?"

And wow. Chad kind of thought Sharpay was just that mean to him. She must be nicer to Ryan, because why else would he spend every waking hour with her? But no, she is apparently so self centered that she's that awful to everyone, Ryan included. Chad is suddenly really glad he's an only child. He would never want circumstances of birth to force him to hang out with someone that terrible to him. He's glad he's free to have friends that actually like him.

But back to the point, "I'm working on core strengthening," Chad tells her.

"Whatever," Sharpay says, waving her hand dismissively. "I'll see you later." And she stomps out.

Thank god she's gone.

And, now that he's said it, he might as well keep working out. So he rolls over to work on sit-ups.

---

Chad exhausts the exercises he can do without leaving the room and Ryan's body. So he spends the rest of the afternoon writing out instructions for his life on the back of some sheet music he found in the closet. Rule one – you are not better than my friends. Rule two – you are not better than my friends. It's like Fight Club, that rule's worth repeating. Rule three is the same, but for his parents. Then there's a dozen rules about the job, how not to get Chad fired, because he needs the money for college and a car. There's Chad's address and to call his parents or take the bus if he needs to get around. Then, Chad figure's Ryan's never taken public transportation in his life and writes out instructions for which bus line gets you where. All of this is the easy stuff, the physical logistics of his life. The next part is harder. It's the gossip, and friendship, and things Chad just knows.

Chad's in danger of running out of sheet music to defile when Ryan storms in.

"Oh my god, your job is horrible."

"Hello to you, too," Chad says, looking up.

"People suck," Ryan says. "They just look through you. And nothing is ever good enough. Who the heck wants exactly three-quarters of an inch of lemon in their glass of water?"

"Mrs. Silver," Chad says, knowing exactly which ridiculous, bored housewife Ryan is talking about. Chad personally thinks she shouldn't complain, if that's the biggest problem in her life. But, when he gets it right on the first try, she leaves an extra tip. So, he's not going to complain about it.

"Exactly!" Ryan says, still apparently angry about it. "She's always so nice to me when I'm me. But she's horrible to you. Who cares if the lemon slice is one inch and not three-quarters!"

"How many tries did it take?" Chad asks, amused. It's nice to see Ryan angry at something other than him for once.

"Four," Ryan answers.

Chad sighs inwardly. There goes all his extra tips. "Well, get it right sooner next time."

"I am fixing this tonight," Ryan says decisively. "I am not doing that again. Your job is terrible."

"Great, fix it," Chad says. "If I never have to talk to your sister again it will be too soon."

"You saw Sharpay?"

"She came by, said I was supposed to practice your talent show thing with her this afternoon."

"You rehearsed with Sharpay?" Ryan asks, alarmed.

"No," Chad says. "I told her I was working on core strengthening today."

"What did you actually do?"

"Core exercises."

"In those clothes?"

"I took off the hat?" Chad answers, unsure of what's wrong with that.

"In the future, please don't get my day clothes sweaty," Ryan says, testily, like he's only barely not yelling it. "I'll show you where my locker and work out clothes are if you're going to work out."

"I thought you were going to fix this," Chad says.

"I am," Ryan says.

"Good."

"Good."

"Here," he says, shoving the pile of papers at Ryan, "it's instructions."

"For what?" Ryan asks.

"My life," Chad says.

"Oh," Ryan says, glancing down at them, before looking back up at Chad. Chad doesn't know what to do next. He wants to go home. But he's Ryan. Ryan seems stuck too.

Chad breaks the silence. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hopefully not," Ryan says.

"Right, bye," Chad says, getting up. He walks around Ryan, and turns left. He pauses, turns and goes right. He's not going to the employee parking lot to get a ride with Troy. He's going to get on Ryan's blue moped and go back to Ryan's house.

---

Chad drives Ryan's silly, blue moped back to Ryan's house. He doesn't know why Ryan got stuck with a moped while Sharpay got a convertible. It's a dumb vehicle, even if it's one more vehicle than he has. But it gets him there, and has the bonus effect of being a one-person ride, so he can avoid Shapry for a little longer. He doesn't know what he's going to do if she comes by again.

Chad doesn't see her car in the garage when he pulls in, so he assumes she's not home. Great. That gives him just enough time to grab something to eat from the kitchen and make a bee line for Ryan's room. He shuts the door behind him with finality. He made it. One day as Ryan down. Hopefully no more to go. Chad has no faith in Ryan's ability to do pretty much anything besides sing and dance, but he seemed just miserable enough that Chad thinks he'll have this fixed by tomorrow. Although Chad doesn't know what Ryan could have to complain about in Chad's life. Chad's life is awesome. He's got a ton of friends, unlike Ryan, who seems to spend a lot of time by himself in a little dance studio room and somehow, although Chad can't figure out how, not go crazy from boredom.

At least Ryan has a cool room at home. Someone made the bed while he was gone, and there are more pillows piled up on it than Chad's ever seen outside of a department store display.

Chad jumps onto the ridiculously made-up bed. He spares a thought for how Ryan probably takes his shoes off before he gets in bed, then decides he doesn't care. He grabs the laptop, puts it on his lap and opens it up. It's already on. Now, what can he do to mess with Ryan on it? Ryan, apparently, is one of those people who checks the "save my password" box on all of his regular sites, because Gmail brings up Ryan's inbox. But there's nothing really there that he can mess with. There's a bunch of theater newsletters, announcements about tickets on sale and auditions coming up, some college tour information, and that's about it. Nothing scandalous at all. There's Facebook, but Chad's message from earlier is still up, and he's not sure where to go from there.

He can try to beat more of Ryan's high scores, except there doesn't seem to be any games on the computer itself, Chad doesn't know what game sites Ryan might play on, and if Ryan has a gaming system, it's not in his room. He's just poking around at the Documents folder, totally uninterested in all of Ryan's school papers, when he opens up a folder called "Stuff" and wow. Those are naked men. Ryan is really, definitely, very, very gay.

Chad clicks through them, one after another. He's not sure if he's clicking fast or slow; time suddenly distorts with each new picture giving Chad a jolt. He can't tear his eyes away, drinking in each image, taking in the details he never lets himself study: the trail of hair leading down from bellybutton to briefs, nipples, dick straining beneath the fabric. But before he has it all, he's clicking to the next, not willing to let the feeling settle in his beyond the initial illicit thrill.

Jake Gyllenhall is staring out of the laptop at Chad when the door bursts open, and he slams the laptop closed, looking up, flustered, at Sharpay as she throws herself down on the bed at Ryan's feet.

"I am so bored, Ryan," she whines, rolling over to look up at where he's sitting at the head of the bed. "Entertain me."

"The door was closed," he says, dumbfounded.

"Yeah, so?" she asks, looking confused.

"So, learn to knock." That's common courtesy, right? Like one of those things people learn in kindergarten. You knock before you burst in on people looking at pictures of mostly naked men.

But apparently the Evans twins missed that day of school, because Sharpay is giving him a look like he's crazy for even suggesting it. Of course she wouldn't knock. She has no other manners, why would she have this one? "What's gotten into you, Ry?" she asks. "You're not still angry about me doing the Humu Humu thing with Troy, are you?"

"Uh." Chad has no idea what she's talking about. Whatever it was must have happened while Ryan was still Ryan. And Troy didn't tell him anything. But whatever it is, Sharpay and Ryan are like one person (except Sharpay is way more horrible), so he feels comfortable saying, "No, it's fine."

"Great. I knew you'd realize how important it was for me and Troy."

Her and Troy? What? There's something Chad's missing. But it seems like Ryan's not really expected to participate in his own conversations, because Sharpay just keeps talking. "So, really, more Sex in the City? Or maybe it's a Real Housewives night?"

"Uh, no," Chad says, because it might not preserve the illusion that he's really Ryan, but he'd be hard pressed to think of something he wants to do less than watch one of those shows with Sharpay.

"What do you want to watch, then? I'm up for anything."

"Uh, I don't really want to watch anything." Why won't Sharpay go away?

"So then we can do something else. Don't leave me hanging. There is so nothing going on tonight."

"I was just going to hang out here. By myself," Chad tries, because Sharpay doesn't seem to get subtlety.

And that finally works. "Fine," she huffs, getting off his bed. "You know, you say you're not mad, but you're acting like a little bitch."

Chad doesn't know what to say to that. Ryan probably cares what Sharpay thinks of him. But Chad couldn't care less. And she's gone, which is all he wanted. So he lets it be. He closes his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. With Sharpay gone and the door once again firmly closed, he slowly opens the laptop to see what else Ryan has.

---

When Chad wakes up as Ryan again, he is not amused. Normally a day off from work would be awesome, but not if he has to spend it hiding in Ryan's studio, with no friends, no basketball, no anything he likes. Plus, Ryan said he was going to fix this. The fact that he didn't worries Chad, although he wouldn't really admit it. That would require him to admit that he thought Ryan could do something in the first place. And the only thing Ryan's good at (supposedly, Chad wouldn't really know) is putting together outfits. But still, Chad kind of thought it would just . . . go away.

And now that it hasn't, he has to face the fact that he's Ryan for another day. With that depressing thought, Chad drags himself out of bed to tackle the first challenge of the day: picking out a hat.

Hat and outfit chosen, and breakfast eaten, Chad figures he should probably make his way to Lava Springs. He can check in with Ryan and see how he utterly failed to fix anything. But first he grabs Ryan's iPhone, because it's possibly the only thing that is going to get him through another day. And he got a text from himself? Or no, his number, but it must be Ryan. Chad opens it, and it's telling him to meet in the dance studio at 9. Chad looks at the time-- it's already 8:47. Lava Springs is at least a half hour away, so it looks like he's going to be late. Great. Ryan failed to fix this and now he's calling ridiculously early meetings about his failure.

There's nothing he can do about being late now, so he grabs Ryan's moped keys with a sigh at the ridiculousness of it all, and gets going.

"You're late," Ryan stops pacing, spinning around to snap at Chad when he pushes open the door to Ryan's dance studio.

"And I thought you were going to fix this," Chad snaps back. Almost as soon as he says it, he realizes it's a dumb retort. Being on time and figuring out how to un-body-swap them are not equivalent tasks. But Ryan gets under his skin like no one else. Apparently literally now.

"Whatever," Ryan says. "You're the one that Fulton's gonna fire if I'm late too many times. And I did fix it. Sort of."

"Dude, you didn't fix anything. I'm still you." Chad knows Ryan can't be that dumb.

"It's going to reverse itself on Friday."

"Really?" Chad asks. That's three days away. He doesn't want to be Ryan for three more days. But it's better to know that it's three more days than to worry that it might be irreversible. He can do three days. Hell, it might be fun. He can work some more on beating all of Ryan's high scores. Or, a traitorous part of his mind thinks, spend some quality time with Ryan's hidden computer stash of hot guys.

Then Ryan ruins it, continuing with, "That's always what happens in Freaky Friday."

"That's a movie." Or, at least Chad thinks Freaky Friday is a movie. "In what universe are movies supposed to be real life?" Chad's worried again. And angry. The worry crashes back down on his shoulders harder than before. For a minute he felt free, knowing he had three days free reign of someone else's life, with his own safely waiting for him to return. But now he might never get himself back. And Ryan has his life, can mess it up so much worse than Chad can even imagine. Ryan could be horrible to his friends. Ryan could be gay to his friends.

"In the universe where people switch bodies?" Ryan suggests, and it takes Chad a moment to pull back from his panic to remember what question Ryan is answering.

Chad's not even going to dignify that with a response. Because Ryan is ridiculous and watching shitty teen movies doesn't count as fixing anything, and right now he just wants Ryan to go away. It's disconcerting to look at Ryan in his own body, and it's unsatisfying to direct his glare at the wall behind Ryan or the floor under his feet, and that just makes him angrier. So he deliberately drops it, taking the easy, angry, out. "Go to work, but if you get me fired, so help me..."

"It's not like you tried to fix anything," Ryan says, angrily. "And here," Ryan gives Chad a stack of papers. "Here's how to not screw up my life." Chad takes them, and Ryan wastes no time storming out of the room.

Chad looks down at the papers he's left with. At first glance it looks mostly like what to wear and how to get dressed in the morning. Upon closer look, that's exactly what it is. Chad drops down to the floor to start his long day of sitting around, and gets to reading them.

---

Chad was trying so hard to avoid Sharpay again. But on second thought, sitting in Ryan's dance studio was probably not the best place to hide. And today, Sharpay doesn't accept any excuses for why he can't spend the day with her. On the plus side, Sharpay doesn't seem to except Ryan to talk at all, just follow her around and agree with everything she says, so he doesn't need to worry about acting like Ryan.

On the minus side, he's stuck following Sharpay around all day and agreeing with her. It's about the worst way he could ever imagine to spend a day. Sharpay is in love with the sound of her own voice, talking non-stop. It's awful. Her voice is grating, like nails on a chalkboard, and Chad's started tensing up as soon as she opens her mouth, in advance of whatever horrible drivel she's about to say, and focusing really hard on basketball plays to block her out.

He's thrilled when lunch comes, and he's able to duck away from her, while she goes to harass Troy. Normally he would try to protect Troy, or at least share the pain with him, but he's been suffering all morning, so he takes this opportunity to make a run for it.

He only makes it as far as the next room, though, before he's stopped by Kelsi, who wants to talk about the talent show.

She tells him about how the employees are doing a number, which he knew, and suggests a group number for all participants. Maybe it's a thing with theater people, but Kelsi doesn't need Chad to participate in the conversation any more than Sharpay did. He's just there to nod along and agree. Ryan's life seems to consist of a lot of listening to other people and agreeing with what they say. Kelsi has a ton of ideas for the number, she's already working on music, and, "Oh, you'll do the choreography for it, of course."

He can't, but he nods okay, because he's sure Ryan can when he's back in his own body.

"Also, we should hold auditions for someone to MC the event," Kelsi says. "I understand that usually Fulton does the job, but," and she pauses, continuing slowly, choosing her words, "I don't think he really has the personality for it."

Chad cracks up laughing. That is the nicest way he's ever heard anyone say that someone is an uptight, humorless dick. "I agree completely."

Kelsi smiles at that, practically glowing. Chad's surprised at how nice it is. Hiding in Ryan's dance studio has been whatever circle of hell boredom lives in. Ryan's main social contact is with Sharpay, and Chad's been avoiding her. He's pretty sure Kelsi is the first person to smile at him since he's been stuck as Ryan. And that's all it takes for Chad to like her.

"Great! Can you talk to Sharpay about it? She'll never do it if I suggest it."

"Of course."

"So, how's your number going?" she asks. Chad knows the song they're doing, because it kept coming up on Ryan's shuffle the other day, and Ryan apparently video tapes all his choreography, because Chad watched it the other night, while going through Ryan's computer. He wasn't really paying attention to the moves of the routines, though. Chad will barely admit it to himself, but he was paying far more attention to how far Ryan can lift his leg and the leggings he choreographs in.

"Good," sounds safe, so that's what he says.

That's enough, thankfully, to get Kelsi going again, talking about music arrangements for them, for the fall musical that year, for the other talent show groups she's working with. And it's nice to listen. Chad doesn't know anything about music or musicals, but Kelsi doesn't need him to contribute to the conversation. She knows it all, and is happy and enthusiastic to share. He can feel her happiness and enthusiasm rubbing off on him. Chad's a social person, always does better at team events. And right now he was sadly lacking a team.

But maybe the cast and crew is more of a team than he realized.

They go on talking for a while, and Chad never quite loses track of time, but it's close. He's having a good time. Or at least he is until he hears the unforgettable clomp, clomp, clomp of Sharpay stomping into the room, the noise almost as grating as her voice. Maybe he can just tell her Kelsi's suggestions and get her to leave them alone to work on the musical. That's how teams work. And it's not like Sharpay will stoop to doing actual work. So he takes a deep breath and starts, "Oh, hey. Kelsi's got some great new ideas to spice up the talent show. It's got..."

"I'm thrilled," Sharpay barks out, barely looking at him, waving a dismissive hand that he's used to as Chad the waiter, but that he didn't realize Ryan got just as much. Then, without pause, she starts talking to Kelsi. "That new duet that Troy and Gabriella sang? I need it."

"Actually, it's not available," Kelsi says. Chad's impressed. He's spent approximately an hour talking to Kelsi, ever, and he already can tell she's terrified of Sharpay. But that doesn't stop her from trying. Unfortunately, Sharpay seems to be having none of it.

"Repeat."

"Well, it's something I wrote for Troy and Gabriella, just in case they decide to..." She trails off, losing steam.

"You're an employee, not a fairy godmother. Let's have it," Sharpay says. Except she doesn't wait for Kelsi to give it to her. She rips it right out of Kelsi's hands and keeps going. "Transpose it into my key. Troy and I will be doing it in the talent show. Oh, and brighten up the tempo. We'll need to keep people awake."

Chad's been standing there boggling. He'd be the first person to say Sharpay's a horrible bitch. But that's one of those things you think without realizing the full extent of what it means. He can't believe she's really being that mean to Kelsi. That song is for Troy and Gabriella. Besides, she already has a number that she's doing with Ryan. Wait a sec.

"What about R- our song?" Chad demands, barely catching himself. "What about Huma Huma?"

"Change in plans," Sharpay says.

"What am I supposed to do with my Tiki Warrior outfit?" Chad says it before he realizes it. And he can't believe that's what he said, because wow, is it dumb. He should have said, 'What about my choreography?' or, 'What about the dozens of videos and dozens of hours I spent putting together moves for you and all of your backup dancers?' She's going to know it's not Ryan now for sure. All that time and effort, and the first thing that pops out of his mouth is the glittery fish explosion that he found looking for something to wear that morning.

Except that Sharpay barely blinks, before continuing her mean streak. "Save it for Halloween, go to a luau, sell it online. I don't know! But in the meantime, keep an eye on those Wildcats. If they're planning on being in the show, which I doubt, once they hear about Troy and me, I don't want any surprises. Oh, and don't worry, I'll find a song for you somewhere in the show. Or the next show."

"Really? Don't strain yourself, slick," Chad says, fuming. Keep an eye on the Wildcats? Yeah. How about no. Because they're a team, and Chad's beginning to see that it holds true for talent shows as much as in basketball. And if the only way he can be on the team right now is by making Ryan a part of the team, then that's what he's going to do. He can worry about getting rid of Ryan once he's back to himself.

He's storming out, when he hears Sharpay tell Kelsi, "Entertainers are so temperamental." She is such a hypocrite.

---

Chad lies to Mrs. Evans about not feeling well so he can get out of dinner, and feels bad about it because she's so earnest when she calls him 'Ducky' and tells him to feel better.

The guilt isn't enough to keep him from getting on his Vespa and getting the hell out of there.

He goes back to Ryan's house, Ryan's room. He strips out of the stupid white outfit and hat Ryan told him to wear that morning, putting on sweatpants and a t-shirt he found poking around the drawers earlier that morning. He throws himself down on the bed, rolls over so he's splayed flat on his back and puts a pillow over his head to block out the light, and he concentrates on breathing. If he lets himself think, he won't be able to keep it in. He'll tear the stupid, neat room apart. Throw the color-coordinated polos on a mixed up pile, wrinkle the pressed shirts, muddy up the rows of pristine white shoes and drag dirt across the carpeting. He'll mess up the room the way he can't mess up Ryan's stupid, perfect face.

God, Ryan's face. He's always so perfectly put together, neat and orderly. It's not fair. It's like he's not a real person. Even as Chad, his life is charmed. Ryan's hanging out with all of Chad's friends, doing his job, living his life, and no one even notices anything. Chad wants to see Ryan ruffled.

Chad calls up the memory of Ryan from their fight three days ago, which feels like a lifetime ago. Ryan's sneer broke the veneer of his smooth face, and Chad doesn't know if Ryan really was flushed with anger, or only let it show in Chad's imagination. In his head, he doesn't skirt around Ryan, running away. He knocks off Ryan's hat, musses his hair, gets his hands on Ryan's clothes, untucking him, rumpling his pressed lines. And fuck.

Chad's hard.

He chucks the pillow over his face across the room, and sits up. He is not thinking about Ryan.

He picks up Ryan's laptop with one hand, navigating right to the guy he remembers from yesterday, with his other hand pushing down his sweatpants, grabbing his dick.

He jerks off hard and fast, looking right at the screen, thinking of nothing but what's in front of him.

It's unsatisfactory.

When he's done he's just as angry as before, but now he's slumped over, sweaty and sticky, to go with it.

He wipes up with tissues from the bedside table, and idly clicks up on the laptop to look at more pictures.

This time he finds Ryan's dance videos. He doesn't know what he's looking at when he clicks on the first one. He clicks on it just to see what it is, and finds smooth lines and clean movements that go flawlessly with the music. Ryan's mesmerizing when he dances. And he must tape himself all the time, because there are hundreds of them in this folder. After the first, Chad clicks on the next, and then the next, fully entranced. Some of the videos are short clips of no more than a single spin or jump, some are fully choreographed ten minute medleys.

Chad loses himself watching, fury bleeding out. He forgets that it's Ryan he's watching. It's art, pure and simple. Before he knows it, Chad hears the front door open and the accompanying noise of Ryan's mom and dad getting home.

There are footsteps on the stairs, the only warning before Mrs. Evans opens the door and perches on the bed next to Chad. "Hey honey, feeling better?" she asks.

"Doesn't anybody knock?" Chad says, shifting around so he's facing her and the laptop screen's turned away. But it's a weary question, not an angry one, with his earlier fury burned off, leaving him drained.

"No, of course not," Mrs. Evans says, with a confused look on her face.

"Oh." And that right there explains a lot about the whole family. "Right. I'm okay, just tired."

Mrs. Evans makes a comforting noise, putting one hand on his shoulder. "What are you looking at?" she asks, reaching out with her other hand, to turn the computer around. Chad follows her gaze back down to the screen, where Ryan's frozen mid-spin in a paused clip. "Are you thinking of filming a new routine?"

"No," he says.

"You know you have plenty of footage for your portfolio," she says, voice filled with reassurance. "You don't need to worry about your applications, you will shine."

"I- okay," Chad says, not really sure what to say.

Mrs. Evans must misinterpret his confusion, because she continues. "But if you're worried, we can always film some more. Daddy and I will be out of town, but I will talk to him about hiring more time with the videographer if you want."

"No, that's okay, you don't have to."

"Whatever you decide, Ducky. Just let me know and I'll make sure it happens."

"Thanks," Chad says, choking on the natural end of the phrase, 'mom.' She's not his mom. But she's not as different from his mom as he originally thought.

"Okay," she says reluctantly, getting up slowly. "Let me know if you change your mind. Good night."

"Night," Chad says distractedly as Mrs. Evans leaves and closes the door behind her.

Chad can recall many similar conversations with his mom, in the car to and from work, the only place they seem to see each other between conflicting job schedules. They discuss their days, the future and Chad's college plans – where he can get in and what type of scholarships are available, how Chad shouldn't worry so much, they'll make it work. It's just that Ryan has that on a scale Chad can't even imagine.

Chad turns back to his laptop, his eyes are drawn to the time, and he's shocked. Hours have past since he started watching Ryan's dance videos. Now that he knows it's late, he feels just how tired he is. His eyes are dry from having spent too much time looking at the screen. So he closes the laptop and goes to sleep.

---

The third day Chad wakes up as Ryan, he knows exactly where he is. He is also furious. He wants his life back. He's over Ryan's flat screen TV, the iPhone, the shiny new laptop filled with pictures of guys, driving around on a moped and lounging around all day.

He wants his friends back. Sharpay is a bitch. And if he spends one more stupid second in that dance studio he's going to smash all those stupid mirrored walls.

Everything was set. He had a job, a girlfriend, friends. He doesn't need all this open-minded, being different people crap. He wants to be himself.

The clothes he wore yesterday are still crumpled on the floor, and he puts them on again. He can't be bothered to figure out another Ryan-approved outfit. He's downstairs before he realizes he forgot the hat, and he curses the whole way back upstairs to grab it.

Hat on, Chad takes the Vespa and drives. He drives right past Ryan's turn off to Lava Springs. He doesn't know where he's going, but it's not there.

He winds up at East High, pulling the Vespa into the parking lot he's only ever walked through, and parks it all the way at the end of the row, where the car he doesn't have is going to go next year. Every year, the basketball team seniors get the end of the second row. Last year it was Steven's. The year before, Jake's. And Chad still remembers freshman year, when he and Troy would watch Bill drive his girlfriend and head cheerleader, Sasha, home after practice while he and Troy waited for Troy's dad to finish up to drive them home.

They've been planning to park there ever since, building their dream senior year piece by piece in late afternoons waiting. Now that they're so close, everything is falling apart. Troy's run off with Gabi to be in musicals instead of playing basketball. And Chad's trying so hard to be into Taylor. He says all the right things, makes all the right moves. But it feels more unnatural than his current predicament.

And he can't avoid it, there's the Ryan thing.

Chad's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the schools not as empty as he thought. There're people exiting the side door, groups making a bee line for the edge of property fence, cigarettes already in their hands, or swinging around to the front of the building, crossing across the field that lets off right by the deli. This must be the summer school crowd, Chad realizes -- people that go to school with him but that he's never noticed before.

Once the stream of exiting students has trickled off, a familiar, spectacled form appears from the building. Mrs. Darbus pauses on the steps, looking around at all of the disappearing students, before pausing when she notices Chad.

She leaves the doorway where she's standing and walks towards him. Chad just sits there, not sure what to do. You can't get in trouble for visiting the school in the summer, can you?

He doesn't remember that he's Ryan, until Mrs. Darbus is a couple of yards away, calling out to him. "Mr. Evans, it's so good to see you."

"Hi, Mrs. Darbus," he says awkwardly.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she says.

"Oh, just stopping by," Chad says. He can't explain why he's really here. And he has no idea what Ryan would say to a teacher.

"I find," Mrs. Darbus says, pausing for dramatic effect, "that students often wind up at East High out of school hours when they need to think."

"Oh."

"Perhaps it is because this is the only place they are used to thinking," she says before pausing.

It takes Chad a second to process that thought, still worrying about what he's supposed to do. When he realizes what she said he does a double-take. "Are you making fun of your students?" he asks, boggling.

"Why, I would never," Mrs. Darbus says with a smirk and a flourish that Chad takes to mean that she most certainly is. "I hope you're not having any more problems with those basketball boys."

"I- What? No, why would you think that?" Chad stutters.

"Well, you've parked yourself way out in their spots," she says, looking around pointedly at the empty lot. "I know your spot is at the other side."

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Chad stutters.

"Good," Mrs. Darbus says. "You are one of the most talented performers I've ever seen, you should not let them bother you."

"I won't," Chad answers, running on autopilot.

"Then, may I suggest you go enjoy your summer elsewhere. Not that I don't enjoy seeing you, but there are far better places to nourish the creative spirit than East High over summer session."

"Yeah, sure," Chad says, turning on the bike. He doesn't need his creative spirit nourished, but he does need to get out of there. This whole conversation is weird and unsettling. "Bye."

"Good-bye Mr. Evans," Mrs. Darbus says, waving as he pulls out of the parking lot.

---

Chad gets to Lava Springs just in time to grab a late lunch, leaving his order with Jason in the dining room, to be brought to the dance studio.

But Jason doesn't deliver the lunch. Ryan does. And he's brought his own side of angry to go with it.

"Where were you all morning?" Ryan asks, closing the door behind him, clearly steeling for a fight.

"Out," Chad says. He doesn't answer to Ryan, and if Ryan wants to fight, bring it on.

"Out where?" Ryan demands.

"None of your business," Chad says. He doesn't even know why he doesn't want to tell Ryan. He's just stick of having to deal with him, to answer to him, to wear his stupid face.

"Oh, that's hilarious. You're me, or did you forget? I think I have a right to know where I went this morning. Or maybe I'll just decide I don't feel like going to work."

"You can't do that, that's my job," Chad says. "You just sit around and do nothing. It's not like someone will fire you if you don't show up."

"Fine, then I'll just skip you stupid team baseball game tonight. It's not like your hive-mind of a team is smart enough to fire people. They didn't get rid of Troy."

"Why would they get rid of Troy?" Chad asks. Troy's their captain.

"Troy's too busy practicing with the Redhawks to play in the baseball game with his 'best friend'," Ryan says, putting emphasis on the words "best friends" that make the air quotes obvious.

"Well, that's a great opportunity," Chad says, defending Troy. Of course Troy would take that opportunity.

"A great opportunity to show that your precious team is just a bunch of desperately popular social climbers," Ryan says. "With friends like that, who needs enemies?"

"You're one to talk," Chad scowls, folding his arms over his chest. "Sharpay doesn't stab people in the back, she stabs people in the front."

"What the heck are you talking about?" Ryan asks.

"She kicked you out of your musical number," Chad tells him smugly.

"She did not."

"She did so. She even told you to sell your stupid, glittered mess of a costume on eBay."

"No way," Ryan insists.

"Yes way," Chad says, mocking him. "Troy's the new leading fish in the number."

Ryan looks baffled for a moment, before his face resolves back into anger. "What did you do? You must have done something!"

"No, she just kicked you out all on her own," Chad says, smiling. This is getting under Ryan's skin. He can tell. He loves having the upper hand.

"That wouldn't have happened if I were really me," Ryan says.

---

Chad's interrupted from his walk by Gabriella and Taylor, pulling up in a golf cart. "Hey, Ryan. No rehearsals?" Gabriella asks.

"My sister is working up something new," he says. This isn't even a lie.

"So, you coming to the baseball game?"

"I'm not staff. Wasn't invited."

"Hey, everyone's invited," Gabi says. "Come on. Hop in."

Chad knows he shouldn't. He can't act, and he doesn't know how he's going to pretend not to be friends with his friends. But fuck that. Ryan is having screaming fights with his best friend and screwing his life up left and right. Hell, for how they left it, he might not even be at the game. Chad hopes he's not. He's sure Ryan would suck at baseball, the same way he sucks at everything else. Ryan doesn't deserve Chad's life or Chad's friends. And Chad wants them back, even if he has to get them as Ryan. The offer is too good to refuse. "All right."

Chad hops on the back of the golf cart, as Gabriella hits the gas. "Hold on!"

---

They pull up to the baseball game amidst hoots and hollering cheers. Except for one glowering exception. "What, did Fulton send you out here to spy on us?" Ryan is angry that Chad's there.

Chad doesn't care. He's done playing by Ryan's rules. He's been looking forward to the staff baseball game for weeks as himself. If Ryan thinks he can rub all the things Chad loves and can't have in his face, Chad's going to do the same thing right back. "Nah, my sister did. She thinks you guys are going to upstage her talent show," he says, total nonchalance at losing something Ryan cares about.

"Oh, no worries. We were going to do the show, but then Troy bailed on us, so whatever," Zeke says, and it's weird to see Zeke back up Ryan.

But Gabi doesn't stay quiet long enough for it to settle in. "What do you mean "whatever"? It's our summer, remember? I thought we decided doing the show would be fun."

"Well, I think so," Martha agrees.

"Me, too," Taylor says.

"Who are we kidding?" Ryan asks, finally the voice of reason.

"I don't think so," Zeke adds.

"We don't know how to put together a show," Jason says.

"No, but he does," Gabi says, pointing at Chad. "If we have a real director putting it together, it could be great." Gabi looks at Chad -- Ryan's body -- directing her next question straight to him. "Have the employees ever won a Star Dazzle Award?"

"Hey, now..." Chad says. And this is why he was supposed to stay away. Because he has no idea if the employees ever won before.

Gabi must take his prevarication as reluctance to help, because she wheedles, "I know what you can do, Ryan, so why not do it for us?"

"All right, look," Ryan-in-Chad's-body breaks up Gabi's plea. "If you want to play ball, then grab a mitt, but I don't dance." Chad really hopes he doesn't look like that. Because good actor or not, Ryan's macho posturing looks ridiculous.

And there's no way Chad's not rising to the challenge. But this time, he's making Ryan's argument. "You don't think dancing takes some game?"

"You got game?"

"A little," Chad says, smirking. He was planning on going easy, because he's sure Ryan isn't really as good as him at baseball. But right there, looking at the challenge in Ryan's eyes, Chad changes his mind. He doesn't even care if it will look bad when "Chad" loses. He is going to crush Ryan.

The umpire tosses Ryan a bat to see which team is going first and Chad doesn't even care if they've worked out teams or captains or anything before he got there. He puts his hand right on top of Ryan's. Hand. Hand. Hand. Until Chad-in-Ryan's-body comes out on top.

Game on.

---

Chad cannot believe he lost. Game over, literally and figuratively. They no longer need "Ryan" for the game, and real Ryan is celebrating his win. Chad's just going to leave while no one's paying him any attention. He turns to slink off, but there's at least one person watching.

"Hey, Evans," Ryan stops him. "I'm not saying I'm going to dance in the show, but if I did, what would you have me do?"

It's Ryan extending an olive branch, and Chad smiles, following the team back to the locker room, maybe not ready to be done with the Wildcats for today.

Plus, Sharpay is never going to know what hit her. Chad Danforth is not on losing teams.

---

The hot water of the Lava Springs shower is pounding down, washing the sweat from a body still pale enough to shock him when he looks down. Chad hasn't worked that hard since basketball season, and even in the wrong body the buzz of left over adrenaline in tired muscles is the same high that it always is. Chad probably should have taken this opportunity to use the members' showers, seeing as he's Ryan and all. They probably shower you in diamonds instead of water, seeing how nice the employee ones are. But Chad didn't want to lose the happy, endorphin rush to needing to concentrate at being someone else just yet. This might be the most fun he's had all summer, even including before, when he was still himself. Even if he lost. And really, he can't believe he lost. To Ryan Evans. Even if Ryan did have the unfair advantage of being in Chad's body, he wasn't expecting to work that hard.

When Gabi first organized the game, it was supposed to be a fun way to relax after work. Something for him and Troy and the other guys. Then, when the whole body-swap thing happened with Ryan, Chad figured he wouldn't play at all, since Ryan wasn't friends with them. But the other Wildcats actually seemed to like Ryan. It's weird. Mrs. Darbus had said Ryan had problems with the basketball players. But now that Chad-as-Ryan has spent time with them, he's beginning to think that maybe it's just him that has a problem with Ryan.

Gabi likes Ryan better than she likes Chad, which, okay, he can sort of understand. He did try to break her and Troy up. But he totally apologized.

All of the Wildcats seem to like Ryan. Or him-as-Ryan. It's weird. But they don't know it's him. And they don't like Ryan in the same way they like him as Chad. Chad is brothers with those guys, even if Troy is not acting very brotherly at the moment. But they like him. They know that Ryan likes dudes and they still like him. They don't act differently around him. They played baseball with him, no problem. And no one blinked an eye when he went to change after the game. They just trooped off to the locker room with a chorus of "good game," and Zeke telling a story about (something funny) which Jason totally missed the point of (actually, Chad wouldn't put it past Jason to not realize Ryan is gay).

And, eyes closed, tilting his head back in the glorious, downpour of the shower, Chad lets himself think that he, too, likes Ryan more than he'll admit.

He likes Ryan.

Chad opens his eyes and lets himself look down. Ryan is more buff than he realized. He looks so small under the ridiculous colors and silly hats, but he's a real guy underneath them. And that is so hot. Chad picks up the soap, and under the guise of washing off, lets himself look and touch.

Chad's moving down his (Ryan's) chest, his abs, exploring, inching closer and closer to his goal.

A locker slams.

Chad is shocked out of his reverie. He's not alone. He'd lost himself in his head, but he's not alone. He's in the locker rooms at Lava Spring. And he can hear people talking, too mumbled to make out the words under the sound of the water, but there none the less. If anyone caught him, they'd be catching Ryan. But somehow that doesn't make the thought any less humiliating. And he realizes he doesn't want to do that to Ryan. So he abandons his detour and finishes washing off, letting himself fall back to the mindless buzz of his body after a good game.

Perhaps he goes a bit too mindless. He gets out of the shower, grabs a towel to dry off and goes to his locker. Twenty-four to the right, twelve, thirty-six. a combination he can do in his sleep. Pulls out sneakers, pants, jersey. He's dressed without thinking about it, suddenly ravenous for the post-game burgers.

"Really?"

"What?" Chad spins around to find himself -- Ryan -- smirking at him.

"You're going to wear that?" Ryan says.

"What's wrong with my clothes this time?" Chad sighs, exasperatedly. Just when Chad decided he liked Ryan. Why does he always have to do this? He gets under Chad's skin like no one else.

"Nothing, it's just that they're yours." Ryan puts emphasis on the "yours" like there's something weird about Chad wearing his own clothes.

He looks down. They're fine. He lifts his hands to shrug. They're not his hands. Right. Well, he's not going to admin that. He's not going to let Ryan win. "Well, if there's nothing wrong with them, then you're wearing them."

"Then you're wearing my clothes," Ryan says, turning to the locker Chad had been using.

Normally Chad would turn away when someone else is changing, but it's his body, so he feels no such compulsion. "Fine," he bites out as Ryan puts on miraculously still-white pants, pulls the white polo over Chad's body's head.

"Not worried about what people are going to think?" Ryan sneers, trying to tame Chad's 'fro under his white golf cap.

And Chad's lost again. People will think they switched clothes. Which is actually really weird now that he thinks about it. But he doesn't want to change and like hell is he backing down from Ryan. They'll get over it.

Some of Chad's confusion must show on his face, because when Ryan finally turns around to look at Chad, he huffs, "And people say I'm the dumb one," almost to himself. Then, more definitively at Chad, "What would you say if Gabi suddenly showed up rumpled in Troy's clothes?"

"But they're not having sex." That would never happen.

"Not the point," Ryan says.

Oh. Sex. Ryan and Chad. People know about Ryan. They'll think they did something. They won't say anything. But they'll think it. Chad and Ryan. Chad's heart is racing again, like he's back in the game. Sex with Ryan. Who is suddenly way closer than he realized. But they're by Ryan's locker. Which means Chad moved. To him. His mouth is dry. He swallows. Takes a deep breath. Locks eyes with Ryan and says, "Maybe I don't care."

Chad drops his gaze to Ryan's -- his mouth. He's so close to Ryan now that he can't get his whole face in frame. He can feel the heat radiating between them. If they're going to think it anyway, maybe he should just lean forward. It would be so easy to just rock forward and-- their lips just brush. It's barely a kiss. But he feels it down to his toes, blood racing hard, pounding through his veins, making his face hot, hands shake, eyes closed without conscious thought, like there's so much internal stimulation to process from the barest touch of skin that he can't possibly handle input from another sense at the same time.

He falls back on his heels, separating their mouths, and opens his eyes to look at Ryan. And he's looking at himself.

He's stumbling backwards, tripping over his feet before he can process it. He sees the anger slide on to Ryan's face, knowing what it looks like on himself. But, "No, it's not-" Chad stutters. He can't kiss himself.

"Fuck you," Ryan spits out. "You kissed me."

He doesn't like it. It's vicious and cuts him cold. It's not the hot burn their usual words cause. "No. I mean, I did," he stutters. "That's not it."

"Every time I think you can't be more of a jerk," Ryan dismisses Chad, talking to himself like Chad's not even there. Like he's invisible, less of person, not a person at all.

But, "You're me," Chad says, distraught.

And Chad doesn't know if it's the words or the broken tone that stops Ryan in his tracks, but he's not going to lose his opening. "It's not- it's not the gay thing. I swear. I- If you were you, I would-" Chad's words spill out.

"Oh."

There's silence after that, both processing Chad's rambled confession. Chad's glad he's in his own clothes. He looks at himself, and it's comforting to be wearing his own armor. And he can rub his hands, damp with cold sweat, on his thighs in the grey baseball pants. Up and down as he breathes in and out, slow and collecting. Ryan can't do that in pristine white slacks. But that doesn't seem to be the way Ryan collects himself. He's moving his hands, palms toward himself, up and down in front of himself, fingers twitching and mouth moving, like he's holding himself back from some more ridiculous action.

But somehow, he collects himself before Chad does. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," Chad says, "I will be." He didn't know he was until he said it. But it feels true. He will be.

Ryan doesn't push it, stays quiet, waiting for Chad to elaborate, maybe. But Chad doesn't want to. He remembers that he's hungry and that the later they are, the weirder it will be. So he takes another deep breath, trying in earnest to collect himself, and changes the topic. "So, how are you good at baseball, anyway?"

"Little League World Championship."

"No way."

"Yes way, with my team in Newport, Rhode Island before we moved to Albuquerque."

"Uh-huh," Chad says, not entirely convinced. "What year?" he quizzes Ryan.

"2000."

"I still don't know if I believe you."

"The trophy is in the case at home," Ryan says.

Chad snorts. He's seen the trophy case. It's enormous and filled with every 'perfect attendance on third Tuesdays of the month' certificates and 'most synchronized dance sequence of the last week' fake plastic medals that Ryan and Sharpay have ever won. It's no surprise Sharpay really likes her trophies and prizes.

"Really, bottom row, fourth from the right," Ryan says.

"I'm checking tonight," Chad tells him.

"Go ahead, I'm not lying."

And talking about baseball is easy, calming, so Chad answers, "Okay, let's go join the post-game dinner."

"Sounds good," Ryan says leading the way out of the locker rooms.

They walk out to the picnic tables behind the baseball dugouts where Zeke has manned the grill. "Where've you guys been?" he shouts, holding out plates already piled with food for the two of them.

Chad blanks. So maybe he's not as okay as he was pretending. But Ryan saves him, reaching out to grab the plate Chad had been going for, gesturing at Chad as he says, "You know this princess takes forever to get ready."

Chad's glad for the save, but does Ryan need to make him sound like such a jerk? He takes his food and sits down next to Ryan. He really wishes he could have the hotdog on Ryan's plate. But Zeke gave him grilled chicken. He's betting it's Ryan's favorite.

---

Gabi invites everyone back to her house after dinner, because staff aren't allowed at Lava Springs after hours if they're not working and no one wants the evening to end yet.

Chad looks at Ryan when the invitation is extended. Chad as himself has never been invited to Gabi's house. Gabi seems to like Ryan, but Chad has no idea if Ryan would accept the invitation. Ryan's answering shrug is no help, so when everyone agrees, he does too, saying he'll follow on his Vespa.

At Gabi's house, they congregate in the back yard and Zeke ask the question everyone's been thinking. "How did you get so good at baseball?"

Which leads to everyone lounging in or around the hammock, white resin chairs pulled up to form a circle, while Chad rehashes the story that Ryan told him earlier.

This segues into talking about baseball in general and Jason's incredibly wrong opinions on the Diamondbacks, which Ryan seems to agree with, so Chad can talk freely. He and Ryan almost get into an argument about the Red Sox, but Chad holds his tongue, because it would look weird to be arguing the wrong opinion. But being from Rhode Island is no excuse for liking a terrible team, and as soon as he's himself, Ryan is going to get an earful.

It's Zeke again who asks, "How come you're not on the baseball team? We could use you."

"Oh, uh," Chad stalls. Why isn'tRyan on the team? He's really good. And it's not like he's some other spring season team. Except. "It conflicts with the spring musical."

"Lame," Jason says. "We are so much cooler than the musical."

"Darbus loves you," Zeke adds, " I'm sure she'd let you miss some rehearsals if you had to."

Chad doesn't know what to say. He's sure that Ryan wouldn't want to miss rehearsals. If he wanted to be on the team, he clearly could have made it. He didn't even try out.

Ryan comes to his rescue, "Guys, if he doesn't want to be on the team, he doesn't have to be."

"You just don't want anyone to show you up," Zeke says.

"Whatever," Ryan says, brushing it off. "Let's talk about something else, like what's up with Troy?"

"Oh man, the Redhawks are so cool," Jason says.

"He's not even on their team," Zeke says. "He's on our team, and he should have been at the game."

"Yeah," Ryan says, chiming in as Chad.

"He better have his shit sorted out by the end of the summer, we need him for this year's championship," Zeke says, as the conversation resolves itself like so many do into talk of the basketball team.

Chad has so much he could say. But he has no idea what Ryan could say. He wants to defend Troy and be angry at him in equal parts. When the temptation to chime in feels like it's becoming too much, he excuses himself, saying, "I'm going to go get a drink, anyone want anything?" and heading towards the house where the girls retreated somewhere between discussing little league and the MLB.

"Snacks," Jason shouts after him.

Chad finds Gabi, Martha, Taylor, and Kelsi perched on bar stools around the island in the middle of Gabi's kitchen.

"Hey, Ryan," Kelsi says. "What's up?"

Chad sits down. "Not much, they're talking basketball out there so I came to get a drink. Oh, and Jason wants snacks."

"Come sit down," Gabi says, gesturing to the chair between her and Kelsi. "If Jason wants something to eat, he can get off his lazy butt and come get it."

Chad thinks that sounds reasonable, and he's in no rush to get back outside, so he sits down. "So, what are you guys talking about?"

"How Gabi should totally dump Troy," Taylor chimes in.

"What?" Ryan asks, stunned. "But he loves you."

"Which is why he keeps missing dates?" Taylor asks sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "That is not acceptable."

"Because he missed one baseball game?" Chad asks still confused.

"And he was late to dinner," Taylor says. "Gabi almost got fired for that," she adds.

"He's just a guy," Martha says. "I don't know what you expect from him."

"I feel like I should say something in defense of guys," Chad says. He had no idea how picky girls were.

"I'm sure you will be a wonderful boyfriend, Ryan," Gabi says, "We're only picking on straight guys tonight."

"So you agree with me," Taylor butts in. Which is good, because Chad has no idea what to say to that. "Troy's a bad boyfriend, you should dump him."

"He's not that bad," Gabi says. Then she laughs, adding, "But did I tell you about the brownies?"

"No, what happened?" Taylor asks.

"He ate, like, the entire batch of my mom's homemade brownies last week that she made for work. We were hanging out and watching a movie, and when I got up to answer the phone, he helped himself to a snack," Gabi says, rolling her eyes.

"So he was hungry," Chad says.

"He didn't even realize they were homemade." Gabi throws her hands up in the air to punctuate some point that Chad doesn't get.

"Boys," Martha says in a put upon voice.

"Speaking of, do you guys want brownies? I had to re-make a batch for my mom, and made a second batch while I was at it," Gabi asks.

There's a chorus of yeses, so Gabi gets out the tupperware and milk to go with it. They're just digging in when the rest of the guys stomp in.

"You're having snacks without us!" Jason says when he gets in and sees them eating.

"Yes, and you can't have any," Gabi teases, pulling the container away.

"Are those homemade?" Zeke asks. "They look amazing."

"Thank you, Zeke," Gabi says, holding out the tupperware for him. "You can have one."

"Oh, come on, that's not fair," Jason says.

"Fine, you can have one too. But only one," Gabi says, putting the tupperware down on the table so everyone can take. "Then let's move into the den where there's more seats."

So everyone takes their brownies and follows Gabi further into the house.

---

It's not super-late when Chad gets back to Ryan's house, but it's a little bit late. Chad's not sure how late Ryan's allowed to be out or when the rest of the Evanses go to sleep. The rest of the night was everyone hanging out in Gabi's den, talking about the Star Dazzle show and the rest of the summer, so he didn't get a chance to talk to Ryan alone again. Chad turns the key and opens the door slowly, trying to keep quiet and not alert anyone to his presence. His strategy so far has been to avoid as many Evanses as possible, and it's been working. He doesn't want their attention, especially coming home late-ish at night.

But his plan fails before he even steps in the door. "Ryan," Mr. Evans calls out from somewhere further in the house. "Is that you? Come in here."

Chad follows the sound of Mr. Evans voice into the living room. "Hey," he says, not knowing what else to say.

"You're home late. Where were you?" Mr. Evans asks in his slightly intimidating, booming voice. But he's smiling.

"Sorry, I was just out with some friends," Chad says, being as vague as possible.

"Sharpay is home," Mr. Evans says like it is supposed to mean something.

It doesn't mean anything to Chad. "Okay," he says.

"Do you know who you should be friends with?" Mr. Evans asks, seemingly at random.

"Who?"

"Troy Bolton," Mr. Evans says. "He's a good kid. Practiced with the Redhawks tonight. Going to make a great addition to the team. You can play basketball with him."

"Umm. . ." Chad says. It's kind of hilarious that Mr. Evans is telling Chad to be friends with his best friend. But it's also a little disconcerting how offhandedly he is dictating what should happen in Ryan's life. Especially since the things he's suggested sound distinctly not-Ryan. "I played baseball today," Chad offers. Because it's something.

"Are you going to play on the school team this year?" Mr. Evans asks, hopeful.

"I don't think so," Chad says. He doubts the guys (himself included) will stop asking Ryan about it, now that they know how good he is. But Ryan hasn't shown any interest in playing baseball, or even letting anyone know he's good at it. And, there's still the musical conflict. "But,it was fun."

"Well, that's a start," Mr. Evans says.

---

Chad wakes up early the day after the baseball game and drives to Lava Springs. It's Friday, and today should be the last day of being Ryan. Everyone always changes back on Friday, or so Ryan says. So Chad's going to enjoy his day not working. He sits by the pool and plays on Ryan's iPhone.

He orders two burgers and fries for a late lunch and then commandeers Ryan to eat with him. They start off talking about baseball, because it's an easy neutral topic. The conversation stays away from anything relating to the day before. But instead moving naturally on to senior year, and where they want to go to college, and the best french fries they've ever had. (Ryan is partial to Pomme Frites in New York. Since Chad's not a rich kid jet-setter, he goes with McDonalds. They both agree that Lava Springs' are not up to par.)

It's a good thing Ryan's parents own the club, because by the time they're done, Chad is so late Fulton wouldn't need three strikes to fire him.

After lunch, Chad takes the Vespa out for a drive, relishing the last time he's likely to have wheels for a while. And he'd never admit it, but the Vespa has grown on him.

Nonetheless, he goes to sleep glad it will all be over tomorrow.

---

Chad wakes up on Saturday. He's still Ryan. If he lets himself thing about it, he'll be angry. Because Ryan promised it would be over yesterday, and it's not. So he just doesn't think about it. He gets up, gets dressed, and because he has nothing better to do, he goes to Lava Springs. He heads into Ryan's dance studio, and nearly trips over Ryan, who's sitting on the floor, back to the mirror, head hanging between where his arms are draped over bent knees.

"Whoa," Chad says. "You okay?"

"I just thought this would be over," Ryan says.

"Me, too," Chad says, sneakers bumping as he slides down the mirrored wall to sit next to Ryan.

"Why aren't you more upset that it's not?" Ryan asks.

"Because if I let myself get upset about it, I'm going to go back to hating you," Chad says, surprising himself with his honesty. "And that didn't seem to get us anywhere."

"Why would you hate me? It's not my fault," Ryan says.

"Well, it's certainly not mine," Chad says, voice rising.

"You know what, don't be upset about it. I like you better that way."

"I don't get why you're so upset, my life is awesome," Chad says.

"This job is terrible."

"Okay, yes, the job sucks. Fulton is awful. Your parents should totally fire him."

"It's not Fulton's fault. Sharpay told him to try to get you guys to quit," Ryan tells him.

"Wow, she sure is good at ruining people's lives," Chad says. And yet, it makes total sense. The more Chad learns about her, the worse she seems. She and Ryan are not one and the same. Ryan is actually okay.

"You just need to know how to handle her."

"I'll stick with avoiding her and hanging out with Kelsi, if it's all the same to you."

"What's the deal with that?" Ryan asks.

"She's hilarious and awesome," Chad says.

"Really?"

"Um, yeah, she's your friend, shouldn't you know that?"

"We're not really friends."

"Really?"

"Yea, we're friendly, but she just writes music and plays piano for us," Ryan says. "I don't really know her or anything."

"Oh. Well, you're friends with her now," Chad tells him.

"How do you do that?" Ryan asks, perplexed.

Chad has no idea what he's talking about. "What?"

"Just make friends with people like that?"

"I don't know, I just talk to people and hope they like me. And anyway, what's the deal with me suddenly being friends with Gabi?" Chad asks. "She hates me."

"Not anymore."

"How did you do that?"

"I-" Ryan pauses, "I yelled at Troy."

"So what's the deal with Troy anyway?"

"Are you going to yell at me again?" Ryan asks wearily.

"Dude, you totally yelled at me last time," Chad says.

"No way."

"Yes way," Chad insists.

"No, it was definitely you yelling," Ryan says.

That's a total lie. Chad's gone over every shiveringly earth-shattering moment of that baseball game since it happened. And Ryan was yelling at him. But since he's trying to not fight with Ryan, as opposed to purposely picking fights with him, for a change, he drops it. "Whatever, I promise not to yell at you this time. So tell me what happened."

"I don't know. I don't know what you and Troy are usually like outside of when you're making fun of me."

Chad winces when Ryan says that. It seems like ages ago, not just last week, that he was making snide comments at Ryan and picking fights.

But Ryan keeps going. "First, I had to serve him at lunch with Sharpay, and then-"

"Wait," Chad cuts Ryan off. "Troy was eating lunch with Sharpay?"

"Yea, and with all of the Redhawks."

"Damn," Chad mutters under his breath.

"So it was bad enough that I had to wait on that table. Then, when I got the stupid cheese on Troy's burger wrong he had to stop me, and God, this sounds so embarrassing, but I thought he was going to introduce you to the Redhawks, so I go to shake his hand. And then Troy's all 'this cheese is wrong.' I thought I was going to die."

Chad's looking at Ryan with disbelief as Ryan finishes his story. Chad's been looking down for most of the conversation, because it's hard to look at himself. But now that he's looking, he sees that Ryan is studiously studying the floor between his shoes, avoiding Chad's eyes. Chad can't believe Troy would do that. Troy's the one always telling Chad to loosen up, to not be so stuck in his ways, to be more open to people, and in a few instances, to actually not be so mean to Ryan. And now this? "I take it back. You didn't do anything. He totally deserved to be yelled at."

"Thanks," Ryan says, glancing up at Chad, then falling silent.

This time Chad's the one to look down. He doesn't know what to say. They've been doing a good job at pretending nothing happened. Or more like pretending they're friends. But neither of those things are true. They're not friends, even if Chad wants Ryan. And they did kiss. And they're stuck as each other, which means Chad can't just ignore it. Every time he accidentally looks in a mirror he's reminded of Ryan.

So after a long awkward pause, he breaks the hush that has fallen over them, making awkward inroads with, "So, are we just going to not talk about it?"

"What?" Ryan asks. Like there could be anything else worth not talking about. This is huge. Epic. And Ryan is playing dumb.

"Me kissing you."

"Oh, that."

"That is not an 'oh, that," Chad says, voice raising to a scream. Ryan glares at Chad. They had been doing so good at not yelling at each other. Chad should have just let it lie. He gives Ryan a sheepish look

"What do you want me to say?" Ryan asks.

"You won't tell anyone, right?" Chad asks, the most important thing on his mind.

"Of course that's what you care about," Ryan says bitterly.

"It's important!" Chad says.

"No one would believe me anyway. You're a macho, straight, homophobic jerk."

"I'm not-" Chad starts, but Ryan stops him with a look.

"Of course not, that's why you pick on me all the time for no reason."

"I just- I don't want anyone to know," Chad says. It's weird enough that Ryan knows. That he kissed Ryan. These are things that weren't supposed to happen. He likes his life. He likes being basketball player, Troy's wing-man Chad. He doesn't want people to look at him differently or treat him differently or to even think of him differently. Even just thinking about it here makes him feel flushed and ashamed.

He's just not Ryan. Chad's thought that before. But this might be the first time it's not a mean thought. Ryan isn't at all what Chad thought he was like. Ryan has eclectic iPod that Chad was surprised contained his favorite [genre and artist] and his own home recordings of showtunes that were way more catchy than Chad would ever expect, and Ryan has a great porn collection. Ryan and Chad are evenly matched at baseball. And Ryan is an amazing kisser. He's so much more than Chad ever thought. And Chad doesn't want people to stop seeing all those things about him. He doesn't want everyone to just think of him as gay, and forget about everything else. He's just not as brave as Ryan.

Something about the patheticness of Chad's thoughts must show on his face, because Ryan knocks his knee into Chad's, and says, "Hey, it's okay. I won't tell. It's hard, I know."

"Thank you so much," Chad says in a relieved rush. "I don't know how you do it."

"I just do," Ryan says, shrugging.

"What are you going to do if we don't switch back?" Chad asks, this time not with a sense of dread, but with a sense of possibility. As Ryan he can look at guys. He can kiss them.

"We'll switch back," Ryan says. Then, adding wickedly, "Besides, you have bigger problems to deal with. You have to teach the Wildcats a show-stopping Star Dazzle routine."

"Fuck." That's the only acceptable answer for that reminder.

"Don't worry," Ryan laughs at him. "You aren't working tomorrow. I'll come up with something tonight and teach you tomorrow."

"Thank you so much," Chad says. "For everything."

"And with that, I've got to go serve food. See you later."

Ryan pushes up to stand and heads out, abandoning Chad to another day killing time in a dance studio he can't use. Today he has the added bonus of spending the day worrying about the dance routine. Except since the baseball game and agreeing to work on the Wildcat talent number, the team has all been really nice to him. Maybe he should stop hiding now that he doesn't have to worry about accidentally being friendly with his friends. So today's the day he's going to go explore the club.

---

Chad's first stop is the member locker rooms, having missed out on his chance to use them after the game. The lockers are wood, and the floors are unnecessarily carpeted. And Ryan's locker has his name engraved in it. Chad doesn't even waste a second thinking about whether or not to open it. There's no sporting equipment, or at least none that Chad recognizes as sporting equipment. Unsurprisingly, there's plenty of clothes, though. Chad does a quick inventory. It's mostly more preppy pastels screaming for popped collars, but there's one pair of red board shorts that have promise. For one, they're not pink or white. For another, they're Wildcat colors. Chad changes into them, and thinks maybe now that he's dressed for it he'll head to the pool.

Gabi's the lifeguard on duty, and Chad calls out to her "Looking good."

"Wow, Wildcat!" Gabi says.

Oh no, is the outfit no good? Chad thought he was finally getting the hang of dressing like Ryan. "Too much?" he asks.

"Only in daylight," she says, teasingly.

Chad makes a vague noise of agreement.

"East High colors, very impressive," she continues.

"Hey. Be true to your school, right?" he says.

"Absolutely. Everyone's excited about doing the show."

"Hey, I know everyone thinks that I'm Sharpay's poodle, but I really think that I could..." Chad starts, not sure where he's going with it, but if he's stuck as Ryan, Ryan is going to be friends with his friends.

But Gabi doesn't even let him try to finish the thought. "Hey," she cuts him off. "If they were thinking that, they're not thinking that today. How do you do that swing-step you did last night?"

"That's easy," he says, taking her hands, and preparing to swing her around in the silly little dance he did last night, that Ryan's body could do without any help of Chad's non-dancing brain.

But they're interrupted by a "Hey." It's Troy.

"Hey," Gabi says, glumly, smile dropping off her face.

"Hey," Chad says, stepping behind Gabi. He's not sure what to say to Troy in this situation. He's never not been on Troy's side before.

"So I called last night. I got hung up at they gym," Troy says to Gabi, totally oblivious to the hurt vibes she's giving off.

Gabi doesn't say anything and Chad can't take it. "Hey, my dad says you're doing great with those college guys."

"Oh. Yeah. They're awesome. Playing with them is like being in another world."

"Well, you missed out on a fun night. It was a great game," Gabi says, finally breaking out of her stupor, and Chad mimes swinging a bat to demonstrate.

Troy's just standing there, staring at them dopily, and Chad can't take it. Doesn't Troy realize how much of a jerk he's been to his friends and, more importantly, his girlfriend? So he plays it up a little more, rubbing in what he was missing, adding, "But the dessert afterwards had to be the best part. Her mom makes the best brownies in the entire world."

"Yeah, I know. I've had them." He's finally giving Chad a weird look, like there's something he's missing.

And Chad realizes that he's not looking at Chad, but at Ryan -- Ryan, who as far as Troy knows isn't even friends with Gabi. Maybe it's time to not get in the middle of this domestic dispute. So he says, "Well, I'll see you guys later," and books it out of there.

So much for swimming.

---

The next day, Chad wakes up with Ryan's alarm at 8am and curses having to be up on a non-work day, ignoring the fact that as Ryan every day is a non-work day. At least when Ryan wanted to meet him before work the other days, Chad could console himself with the thought that if he were himself he would be up anyway for work. But today they could both be sleeping in. But no, Ryan texted him last night with instructions to be at the dance studio by 9am sharp.

So here Chad is, dragging himself out of bed to the increasingly familiar beep of Ryan's iPhone alarm clock.

And before he even gets to leave he has to face the challenge of Ryan's closet. What do you even wear to dance? He is not putting on tights, and that's about everything he knows about dance wear.

The closet is all nicer clothes, so that's out. But there're a dozen drawers in the wall length dresser that Chad hasn't braved yet. Chad pulls them open at random, first try is sweaters, second are those dreaded tights, but he takes that as indication that he's getting warmer. The one above is t-shirts, and Chad wishes he had discovered it sooner. He could have been wearing t-shirts this whole time, even if none of them have appropriately funny sayings and Ryan probably would have vetoed the outfits anyway.

Chad pulls out a thin, white v-neck t-shirt, and keeps looking. The next drawer is jackpot, and he finds sweatpants-y pants. He puts them on. They're not quite sweatpants, they aren't fuzzy on the inside, and they're tighter and stretchier than any sweatpants that Chad actually owns. But now he's running late and he doesn't want to run the risk of pissing off Ryan now that they're actually getting along. So he just makes one stop in the walk-in closet to pick up a straw fedora with a black band around it, puts it on his head, grabs Ryan's messenger bag and the keys to the Vespa, and heads out.

After all that rushing, the dance studio is empty and dark when Chad gets there. He might as well get the room set up, since he beat Ryan there. Chad turns on the lights, drops his bag and goes to pull out the speakers. There'll be no Kelsi for this practice.

That done, Chad stands there aimlessly looking in the mirror. Ryan's face looks back at him. It never stops being less weird. Chad scrunches up his nose, making a face, and watches Ryan's do the same thing. He sticks out his tongue and shakes out his arms in an outward manifestation of restless energy and being freaked out.

"Nice," Ryan says, walking in. Chad drops the face and tracks Ryan's progress across the room to him in the mirror.

"Here," Ryan says, holding out a Starbucks cup. Chad pounces, grabbing it gratefully. "For coming in on your day off."

"It's your day off too," Chad says.

"Yea, but I've been looking forward to getting to dance all week."

"Thanks, man," Chad says taking a gulp of his coffee. "Let's get this over with."

"Nuh-uh," Ryan says. "You're going to have to be excited about this routine."

"Ugh," Chad says, before putting on a fake smile and pumping his fist. "Go team!"

"Better," Ryan says, going to plug Chad's old iPod into the speakers. "To start, just watch."

Chad leans back against the mirror as Ryan starts up the music. It's something Chad doesn't know, cheerful and sugary-sweet upbeat. It's awful and perfect for this type of thing.

Ryan begins dancing, and Chad watches. It's weird to see himself dance. It's nothing super complicated or fancy, a lot of bouncing up and down and clapping his hands in the air. But his hips circle in time to the music like he feels it. Chad's doesn't think it looks like that when he dances. He's pretty sure he just looks awkward and uncomfortable.

Ryan finishes the dance with a big arm flourish before the music ends, explaining, "That will be a ripple, with everyone going at their own time."

"Okay," Chad says, in a resigned sigh. "Let's learn this thing."

"That's the spirit," Ryan says laughing. "So, to start, you stand like this," and then he demonstrates, putting one foot out, hands out to the side, and head down.

Chad stands next to him and tries to mirror his pose. He thinks this is going to be a long day.

---

Many, many hours later it's way past a long day, but Chad thinks he finally has the dance down.

"Okay," Ryan says from where he's watching Chad run through it on his own. "I think you've got the steps."

"Great," Chad says, getting out of the ending pose and turning towards Ryan ready to sit down, have some water and be done with this.

But before he gets two steps, Ryan's bursting that bubble. "Now you just need to learn how to teach it to everyone."

Chad's head falls. "But I thought I have it."

"You have the steps, but don't have the conviction."

"That's because I'm just not a dancer."

"I thought we already had this argument at the game."

"I'm not arguing, I'm here, dancing. I'm just never going to have the conviction, because I look and feel stupid dancing."

"Here, come sit," Ryan says, sticking out his hand. Chad takes it automatically, and Ryan uses it to pull himself up, spinning Chad around, so he sits in Ryan's vacated floor space. "Watch this." Ryan goes to the iPod, and scrolls through it looking for something else. Finding it, he hits play.

Chad recognizes the pulsing beat of Umbrella right away. You can't avoid the song if you try. Ryan backs away from the speakers, swaying his hips. He moves until he's in the center of the floor, still dancing. The song is different when Ryan's dancing to it. It's no longer an inescapable pop song; it's hot. Chad's not sure when it moved on from swaying hips, but Ryan is full-out dancing, hips grinding against an imaginary partner, arms out, hands moving perfectly in time to his soundtrack, eyes closed like behind his eyes he's somewhere else, a dark, sweaty dance club with flashing lights and his pick of half-naked men instead of a bright sunny dance studio in a suburban country club. Ryan moves incredibly, like there's no one there watching him, judging him, like he has no fears in the world.

The driving beat of the song fades out slowly, like the fantasy world is getting further away, just out of ear-length, like Chad could get up and chase after it and stay for a while. But of course, the song ends, like all songs do, and Ryan's movements get smaller and smaller until he's just standing in the middle of the room. Ryan opens his eyes and looks right at Chad.

"I can't do that."

"Yes, you can," Ryan says. "You just did." Ryan gives Chad a meaningful look, which Chad just stares blankly back at. "I'm you right now."

"Man," Chad says, a disbelieving exhale. He honestly forgot that Ryan is him. He never knew he could look like that, move like that. "How did you get me to do that?"

"Stop worrying. You just need to move," Ryan says, holding his hand out. "Come on, get up. I'll show you."

Chad gets up and moves to where Ryan is standing. Ryan moves to the iPod, leaving Chad standing in the middle of the floor by himself. Ryan hits play, and Jay Z starts talking about no clouds again and Chad panics. Is he supposed to dance? Here? By himself? Ryan is supposed to be teaching him.

Ryan turns around and walks over to him, swaying to the beat already. Ryan stops within arms length, taking in Chad's startled expression. Then he reaches out, puts his hands on Chad's hips and pulls him in. "Just move," Ryan says, startlingly close. He's not a few feet away anymore, but a few inches. They're not touching except for where Ryan's hands are on him, but Chad feels the space between them like it's a solid thing, as present as a body. Ryan moves Chad's hips with his hands, and Chad sways awkwardly with him.

"What do I do with my hands?" he asks.

"Don't think about them," Ryan says. "Just move."

"But-"

"No, stop thinking."

"Aren't you afraid we look dumb?"

"No."

Chad is. He's horribly afraid of making a fool of himself, even if no one is here to see it besides Ryan. Maybe he's even more afraid because it's Ryan.

Ryan keeps moving, slow and steady, in counterpoint to the movement he's transmitting to Chad. "Come on," he says. "Stop thinking about it," Ryan coaxes. Chad's moving with him, looking down, watching their legs in the space between their bodies. He watches and focuses and copies while Ryan keeps up a steady stream of encouragement. "I'm hot. You look good. You just have to let my body do its thing. And you just saw how good you can look, so don't worry about it." And he's right. Ryan's body knows what it's doing. And if he messes up, it will be on Ryan anyway. He doesn't need to worry. He just moves.

He's moving in time with Ryan now, mind consciously blank, just going with it. He feels Ryan shift in, cutting the space between them in half and then half again, but still not touching. Chad feels Ryan's breath on the side of his face before he speaks. But none of it prepares him for the breathy whisper in his ear: "Have you jerked off in my body yet?"

Chad stumbles backward, losing the rhythm. "What?"

"Sorry," Ryan says, not seeming sorry at all.

---

Chad is pacing. He pulls out his phone, looks at the time. Today has gone by too fast and too slow. He finally wasn't bored spending all day hiding in the dance studio. He wishes he could go back to being bored. Instead, he's spent the day alternately going over the dance, pacing, and worrying. And the closer it gets to d-time (dance time) the more worried he gets. He checks the time again. It's late enough that Ryan's done waiting for the day. Chad calls Ryan in a panic. Everyone's shifts are wrapping up in the next half hour or so. And then all the Wildcats are meeting here to learn their Star Dazzle routine. The Star Dazzle routine that Chad has to teach them.

The phone is ringing, ringing, ringing, and Chad really needs Ryan to pick up. Because Chad can't do this. He needs Ryan to switch them back. Or something. Because Chad absolutely cannot teach people how to dance. He can't even dance himself. This was a terrible idea. And the phone is still ringing, ringing, ring- finally, Ryan picks up. Chad doesn't even wait for him to say hello, before blurting out, "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." Ryan's voice is droll and uninterested. Maybe Chad should have saved all his panic for the end. Because this is definitely the worst. And Ryan sounds like he used all his patience up six phone calls ago.

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can," Ryan says, and Chad can hear him rolling his eyes. "We've been over this every break today. You can't back out now."

"Yes, I can," Chad says. Backing out! That's a great idea. Why didn't he think of that?

"You were great yesterday," Ryan says. "Just pretend you're only teaching me. And you can call on me and make me be your dummy and demonstrate or whatever. I'll help all I can."

"Hurry up and get here before I make a break for it," Chad says sullenly. He hates letting people down. But he really can't dance. It's a rock and a hard place. And either way will be awful.

"You can't leave. You can't let your team down," Ryan says.

It's another offhand platitude to calm him down, but darn him. Ryan is right. Chad can't let them down. He wants to. He wants to leave and not look back and absolutely never dance again. But he can't.

"Fine," he snaps, angry that Ryan is right, and without waiting for the pleasantry of goodbyes, hangs up. The one thing Ryan's iPhone is missing from it's fancy sleekness that Chad's old crappy, second-hand phone has is the satisfying clap of snapping shut. Chad shoves the phone in his pocket, because it's as good of a target as any for his nerves. He can't believe he's doing this.

---

All the Wildcats are here, and Chad's retreated to Kelsi's piano bench, watching her fingers move up and down the keys, warming up. He really wants to talk to Ryan, but Ryan's acting a good game and talking to Zeke and Jason. So watching Kelsi's fingers run up and down the piano keys is the next best thing.

"Ryan," Kelsi says, nudging Chad with her elbow on her next run up his direction.

"Oh, yeah," he startles, looking up at her.

"I think everyone's here," she says softly. "You can start."

"Yeah, great," he says, taking a deep breath to steel himself.

"Don't worry, they like you," she says. She must sense his apprehension, and mistakenly thinks it's because of having to work with the Wildcats.

"Thanks," he says, getting up. Even if it's for the wrong reason, he's glad for her reassurance.

"Okay everyone," he addresses the room. "Time to start." Everyone gets up and stands around him, looking at him, watching, expecting. He takes a deep breath, and does exactly what they practiced. "First," he says, "Kelsi is going to play the music for us."

Everyone looks at Kelsi, and she takes their attention gracefully, giving a little wave, and starting the song. She plays through it, singing all of the parts as well, and it gives Chad a breather. He can compose himself with no one looking. He looks around, watching everyone watch Kelsi. Until he gets to Ryan. Ryan is watching him, and he catches Chad's eyes he smiles at him. Chad smiles back.

Too soon, the song is reaching it's ending criscenzo and it's back to Chad. But he's ready. He moves to the front of the room, where the mirror is, and starts. "I'm going to teach you the dance, step by step. First, face the mirror, and this is the starting pose." Chad moves his feed and arms into position. "Look in the mirror, and try to match what I'm doing."

Chad holds his position as everyone shuffles around, getting into the pose. Gabi has it immediately, as do Taylor and Martha. The guys aren't as good. Jason is completely backwards. And Zeke's arms are in the wrong place. But they're laughing at something that Chad couldn't hear from up front, and having fun. "Stay where you are," Chad calls back. "I'm going to move around and make sure everyone has it." And he drops out of position to walk around. He fixes Zeke's position, and works with Jason.

Then, walking past Ryan, he has an idea. He smirks, and says, "Hey, Chad, it looks like you do dance after all. Why don't you come up front and help demonstrate?"

Ryan makes a face. "Why me?" he says, playing the part.

"Because I like torturing you, now come on."

"Fine," Ryan huffs, relaxing into his normal standing position. He follows Chad back to the front of the room.

"It looks like everyone's got it," Chad says. "Now we'll go into the first eight counts."

---

Chad doesn't get a chance to talk to Ryan after the rehearsal, because Ryan leaves right away to get a ride back with Zeke and Chad has to stick around to close down the practice space. He listens to Kelsi prattle on about how much nicer it is to rehearse without Sharpay there as she puts away her music. He shuts off the lights, closes the shades, and locks up the storage closet.

That done, he walks her out to her car and gets on the Vespa. For one, it's more of a car than he has. And without the distraction of a radio or anyone in the passenger seat, he can let himself think. Tonight, he thinks it went well. He didn't have the nervous breakdown he was predicting. And everyone more or less made it through the first half of the dance. They're practicing every day this week, and at the very least it's something to do. Being Ryan is better when he isn't cut off from everyone and everything he knows. And despite the fact that Ryan was never friends with the Wildcats before, they all seem to have taken Gabi's lead and were cool with him.

When he gets back to Ryan's place, he finds he missed a text from Ryan that says "good job, Wildcat." It makes him smile. It means a lot that Ryan thinks he got "Ryan" right doing the thing Chad's worst at. It's nice to finally be on the same team. And, as Ryan, he can enjoy getting a compliment from a guy he likes.

---

The next few days are busy, busy, busy. He spends more time with his friends, more time with Gabi, more time with Kelsi, more time dancing. And they're getting good. He never really thought they would get through the whole routine, that he could get them through it. But now, he's thinking they might actually have a chance.

It's Thursday afternoon, and everyone has a break between the lunch and dinner serving shifts, so they're running through their routine again. And he's having fun, waving his hands probably like an idiot, but that doesn't matter, because that's what dance is about, putting yourself out there and moving. He shouts encouragement for the big finish, and everyone does exactly what they're supposed to and it really is something else that he got everyone dancing like this. He thinks they might even have a chance at winning. Although he's pretty sure that's not the point. The point is how much fun they're having. How everyone says good-bye and genuinely sounds like they don't want to leave him to go back to work. How he wishes he were going back to work with them, even though the job totally sucked. Gabi even gives him a hug before darting out.

He spins around an outburst of excess happy energy. He's happy.

"I said keep an eye on them, not turn them into the cast of Grease!" Sharpay stomps in, stopping him in his tracks.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Chad says.

"Do you want us to lose the Star Dazzle Award to a bunch of dishwashers?"

"Us?" She's the one who kicked Ryan out. He can't believe her nerve. "Well, I guess that's showbiz."

"When did you become one of them?" she asks. It's clear from her tone that she thinks it's an insult. But for Chad it's the opposite. And while Ryan's been good at acting since day one, Chad's pretty sure Ryan's getting the hang of being him too. His smiles have come easier, and his teasing, and jokes flow freely. He seems to like Chad and his friends, and his life. So he thinks Ryan wouldn't mind the comment either.

"You know, I'll take that as a compliment, But you and Troy have a good show," and he adds an exaggerated "sis."

"Oh, we plan to," she says, in her attempt to be threatening. But Sharpay doesn't scare Chad anymore. She just sounds whiney and desperate. Too bad for her. Chad has other places to be, so he lets her have the last word and leaves. She's not important enough to ruin his day for.

---

The next day is thoroughly ruined by Sharpay.

Ryan stomps into the dance studio right in the middle of his shift. "I can't believe her," he mutters pacing right past Chad, eyes in front of him watching where he's stomping and not even sparing a glance at Chad. He reaches the end of the room and turns around just as violently. "I just- God- That bitch," and he's at the end of the room turning to march back.

"What happened?" Chad steps into Ryan's warpath, cutting off his tirade, finally getting a good look at him. His fists are clenched and he looks murderous. Chad thinks maybe he shouldn't have gotten in Ryan's way. He's barely holding it together, shaking with rage.

But when Chad reaches out a tentative hand to Ryan's shoulder, Ryan's brings his arms up and his fists just collapse, opening to hold on to Chad's shoulders. "Sharpay," Ryan says, voice shaking.

"What did she do?" Chad asks.

"She went to Fulton. No junior staffers are allowed in the show."

Shit. Their routine. Ryan's routine. His routine. And now they can't do it. With dread, Chad remembers Sharpay's words from yesterday. She was going to have a good show. And suddenly the implied conclusion to that is 'and you won't.' This is his fault. He just walked away laughing. He didn't think she could really do anything. But clearly he should have said something, done something, taken her threat seriously. Ryan wouldn't have let this happen. And it's just another way he's not good at acting, at being Ryan. "I'm so sorry," he says. This is all his fault.

"It's not your fault," Ryan says.

Chad feels bitter relief. Ryan doesn't know about his encounter with Sharpay yet. They texted last night, but Chad didn't think it was worth mentioning. He didn't want to ruin the mood. They were in the middle of an intense argument on just how much of a douche Spencer is on The Hills. Ryan hates him, so Chad was left defending him, even though he really agreed with Ryan. But, if he agreed, that would be the end of the texting, and he wanted to keep going. Every time Ryan answered he felt a thrill go through him, that Ryan hasn't given up on him, that Ryan wants to keep talking to him.

Even now he doesn't want to tell Ryan that this is his fault, that he's not a good enough Ryan. But he has to.

"No, it is. She saw our rehearsal yesterday and talked to me about it," Chad admits, looking down, watching every word fall like a wedge in the space between them.

His words couldn't have worked any better, or really, worse, if the wedge were literal. Ryan takes his hands off Chad's shoulders, picks his head up from where it was hung in the space between them, takes a step back. "What do you mean?" Ryan asks.

"Yesterday, when we were done and everyone left, Sharpay marched in here and asked what I was doing. She called me a Wildcat. I told her I took it as a compliment and left. I guess she meant that as battle words. I didn't know."

"That's it?" Ryan asks, moving to sit down against the mirror.

"I should have known she was up to something. You would have known."

"Probably," Ryan says. "But it's not your fault." Chad thinks Ryan's humoring him, and he doesn't appreciate it. He screwed up. He can take the responsibility. Ryan should be angry at him. He doesn't know what they're doing, playing at being friends. Why isn't Ryan furious? "No, really," Ryan says, when Chad stays standing there, looking progressively angrier. "Come sit down," he says and pats the space on the floor next to him.

Chad goes, skeptically, to see what Ryan has to say. But Ryan just stays quiet. After a moment, where Chad can't take the waiting, he has to ask. "You're really not angry?"

"Oh, I'm plenty angry, but not at you. I'm angry at Sharpay. Even if I could have stopped this, which I'm not sure I could have, I shouldn't have to stop these things. She should be better than this."

Ryan sounds sad at this, and Chad's not sure what to say. They've mostly avoided the topic of Sharpay. The only other time it's come up, they had a screaming fight about it. It's the same way they've been avoiding the topic of Troy. If they ignore their real lives, and siblings (by birth or not), they can be friends. But when they start to think about who they are, their social situations and cliques, there's nothing about them that makes sense. "I'm sorry," Chad says, a wholly inadequate generic expression of empathy.

"Thanks," Ryan says, with a forced bitter laugh.

They sit there for a while, in silence. Chad's thoughts continue to circle on how this just isn't fair and he wishes he could do something about this. It takes him longer than he'd like to admit to realize that he's Ryan Evans. Maybe he can do something. "What should I do?" he asks Ryan, renewed determination. "Should I talk to your parents? I'm sure they'd make Fulton let your group be in the show." Chad hasn't really seen Ryan's parents, except in passing. Mr. Evans has to jet in and out of town for work, and Mrs. Evans when with him for some NY shopping. Whenever they've been around, Chad has worked hard to be unavailable, and no one had pushed. But still, they're Ryan's parents. If he came to them with a problem like this, one they could easily solve, he's sure they'd do it.

"No, don't. It's not worth it," Ryan says.

"We're not?" Chad says, sounding surprised. He really thought Ryan was in this.

"No, not like that," Ryan says, looking up at him with a wide-eyed startled expression. "It's just complicated." Ryan pauses looking at Chad, imploring him to understand. "I couldn't be happier to be a Wildcat," he finishes, giving Chad a weak smile.

"Okay," Chad says, dropping it. He doesn't know what Ryan was talking about. But he gets how something could be not worth the fight. This isn't. If Chad needs to let this lie to stay friends with Ryan, he is absolutely willing to do that.

Chad's hungry, and he looks at the clock. It's lunchtime. Wait. "Aren't you supposed to be working right now?" he asks.

"Oh, yeah," Ryan says sheepishly. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Let's go back to the kitchen, I could use some lunch anyway, I'll pretend I was busy ordering you around," Chad says, getting up and offering a hand to help Ryan up.

Ryan takes it, and pulls to standing. "Thanks."

"No problem," Chad says, leading the way out of the room. He'll get lunch, and then what? Without the Star Dazzle show Chad realizes his day has gone back to being a big, empty, lonely, stretch of time.

"I'll see you after shift anyway?" Ryan asks. And Chad is so relieved. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do as Ryan anymore. But at least this time Ryan is in his corner.

---

Saturday morning, Chad wakes up as himself. His alarm is beeping and at first he doesn't know where he is. He goes to hit the off button, and it's not there. The phone flips open. The room is dark, with forest green carpeting and his clunky old computer on the desk. He wonders if he should call Ryan. But he's up because he's due at work in twenty minutes for a long, talent-show day shift. Ryan can finally sleep in. And he'll figure it out when he wakes up. There's nothing Ryan is going to do about it. Everything is finally back to the way it's supposed to be.

So why doesn't Chad feel happy about it? Well, there's nothing to be done about that either.

---

Chad checks his phone at his mid-afternoon lunch break and has a dozen missed texts and three voice mails from Ryan. Reading them backwards is watching a fight in reverse. Ryan is angry in the most recent ones, saying 'i see how it is' and 'i guess we're done.' Whereas earlier the messages are 'give me a call,' and 'I need to talk to you,' all the way down to the first 'back to being your charming self, excited?'

Chad doesn't know what Ryan wants. Or wanted. So he goes to find him. He makes a beeline for the dance studio, but the door is closed and it's dark inside. Chad doesn't know where to go next. That was his big plan. And now Ryan's not where he expected to find him. Chad tries to think of where he spent time as Ryan, but that's about it. He thought he was getting to know Ryan, but two weeks in his shoes and he doesn't have the first idea of where he would go. Chad walks by the pool, but the non-Gabi lifeguard is on duty. He looks out towards the sports fields, but they look deserted. He goes to walk around the main building, but they're setting up for the talent show on the back patio and Sharpay is on stage, so Chad ducks into the music room to head back to the kitchen, wanting to avoid that mess. Which is of course where he finds Ryan.

He's talking to Kelsi. Or, more accurately, Kelsi is talking to him. She's waving her hands animatedly, and Chad catches Sharpay's name and Troy's in her ramble before he steps out of the doorway and into the room, interrupting. "Hey."

Kelsi shuts up, and she and Ryan look at him. "I- um- what's happening?" he asks, because it sounds like it's something exciting, or at the very least gossip-worthy. And he can't really talk to Ryan the way he wants with Kelsi there.

"Troy told Sharpay he won't sing with her at the show," Kelsi says excitedly.

"Really?"

"Yea, he quit his golf job and asked Fulton to go back to working in the kitchen. Which makes him ineligible to perform. You should have seen it. It was great. Sharpay was totally freaking out."

"How do you know?"

"It was right in the middle of rehearsal. I was there playing the piano. After Troy left, Sharpay was practically in tears and you could see the rage coming out her ears."

"Wow. Finally, Troy does something right," Chad says.

"Yea," Ryan echoes.

"Hey, Kelsi," Chad says, having an idea. "Can you go tell everyone in the kitchen the good news?"

"Sure," Kelsi says, looking at him. "You heading back to the kitchen?" she asks.

"No, go ahead, I'm still on break for a little bit. I don't want to go back any sooner than I have to."

"Got it," she says. Kelsi turns and says, "See you later, Ryan," before finally leaving Chad and Ryan alone.

"So, everything's back to normal," Ryan says tentatively, and faintly hostile, crossing his arms over his chest standing his ground on the other side of the room.

If Ryan won't come to Chad, Chad will go to him. "I guess," Chad says. "I mean, aren't you glad to be yourself again?"

"Yes. But I wasn't looking forward to you being a jerk again."

"I- um- I'm sorry. I didn't do anything."

"You ignored my calls."

"I was working."

"Oh. Oops." Then, "How come you didn't call me this morning?"

"I figured you'd want to sleep in. You've been stuck waking up early for my crappy job for weeks."

"I'm an early riser. You can always call me in the morning."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No, sorry, that was just me being dumb and paranoid."

"And you want me to call you?"

"Yes, sure. Do you want to call me?"

"Yeah," Chad says.

"Good."

"Good." There's a pause where they both just look at each other. "I guess I have to go back to work," Chad says reluctantly.

"I'll see you later?"

"I'm working straight through until after the show."

"Maybe I'll stop by the kitchen. Would that be okay?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Then I'll see you later."

"Okay, see you later."

---

It's after the dinner rush, the show just about to start, by the time Troy shows up to actually reclaim his kitchen job. It's the first time Chad's seen Troy in two weeks, and it's startling how much he missed his best friend. He's heard about them fighting from Ryan, but it's different second hand. Chad's not angry at him at all. He's just relieved to have the last piece of his life slotting back into place.

"Kelsi told us what went down between you and Sharpay," Chad says tentatively.

"I'm more interested in what went down between me and you, man. I was a jerk," Troy says, apologetically.

"Yeah."

"But, hey, brothers fight."

"And they're still brothers," Chad says, so glad to have Troy back that it's easy to wrap is arms around him and give him a real hug.

Suddenly, everyone is cheering behind them. So much for a moment between them, Chad snorts, pulling back.

And it seems like Troy's not done apologizing, because he addresses the crowd. "Guys, I messed up your show and I'm sorry."

"Yeah, because show business is our entire lives, right?" Zeke says, stepping away from his precious oven, and Chad sees that Ryan showed up to witness Troy's return. It's a weird moment of dissonance, Ryan and Chad's new life showing up to witness his reuniting with Troy and his old life. He's not sure what to do.

"Hey, I hope you haven't permanently filled my spot in the two-on-two game," Troy directs at Chad, before turning to see the newcomer. "And, Ryan, I know how hard you must've worked on this show. Making these Wildcats look good couldn't have been easy." There's a chorus of offended 'heys,' before Troy finishes, "So I apologize."

Ryan answers, "Hey, the truth is, we've all had a lot of fun. At least, I have." He's all easy grace, like he's exactly where he belongs, even though before the last two weeks he wouldn't be caught dead in the kitchen.

Chad is simultaneously amazed at Ryan's composure and utter self confidence, and worried that Troy is going to know something happened. "Hey," he says, remembering a perfectly good reason for them to be on speaking terms now, "you gotta see this dude play baseball."

"I'm looking forward to it," Troy says.

"All right."

Everyone cheers again, and Chad thinks they're a little too excited about nothing. But they quiet down when Ryan speaks again. "Troy, listen, all these people out there, I don't really want to see my sister crash and burn. At least, I think I don't. I think you should sing with her."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Troy says, and Ryan shrugs. "Now, lets get back to work," Troy directs to the kitchen at large. Everyone jumps at that, moving back to their places. Chad watches as Ryan slips out of the room in the bustle, and follows him.

Chad catches Ryan in the hallway. It's the same hallway where they fought. That seems like ages ago, but it was only two weeks. Chad wants Ryan to go, for everything to go back to normal. Chad never wants Ryan to go. Despite all that's happened, he's still as torn as ever. But that's not what comes out when he opens his mouth to speak. Instead, he asks, "If you really don't want to see Sharpay crash and burn, why don't you sing with her?"

"I don't want to sing with her. This was your show. I don't want to do it without you."

"Oh," Chad says. Ryan isn't going back to his old ways. Chad wants to. It would be so easy to be himself again and not have to deal with all the difficult parts of the past two weeks. His comfort zone is so close, and he wants to climb back in and never come out again. "You know, what Zeke said is true, dancing isn't my life, you can do it."

"I just don't-" Ryan stars, exasperated. But he stops when his eyes focus on something over Chad's shoulder. Chad spins around, and Troy is there.

"Hi," he says, tucking his hands in his pockets, looking back and forth between them.

"Hey," Chad says. "What's up?"

"I just came to see where you went." Troy looks confused. This is why Chad doesn't hang out with Ryan. He doesn't want Troy to get any ideas.

But Ryan comes to his rescue. "We were just talking about the show."

"I haven't changed my mind," Troy says. "I'm a waiter again. I'm not doing anything the rest of the Wildcats aren't."

"Then tell Sharpay that," Ryan says.

"Uh, I did, and I'm not doing the show."

"No," Ryan says. "Tell her you'll do the show. But only if all the Wildcats can do it too."

"That will work?"

"I think I would know how to handle my sister. Yes, that will work."

"You're a genius," Troy says, eyes lighting up with having figured out how to fix everything. "Thanks, you're just full of surprises today."

"You're welcome," Ryan says, smirking as Troy runs off. "You know, he's not as bad as I thought," Ryan muses. "You should take a page from his book."

"What?"

"You don't need to be so afraid all the time. Troy will be cool with you no matter what. Even when you tell him you're gay."

"You promised you wouldn't say anything." Chad knew it wouldn't last. "I thought we were friends now."

"We are."

"You promised you wouldn't tell."

"I'm not. I think you should. It's going to be hard for you to be friends with me if you spend all the time you're talking to me afraid that someone will think something about you. Troy really won't care."

"Can't you just let me handle it?"

"I- I'll see."

"Okay."

---

They do the show.

It's amazing. Ryan hangs around while they break down the party and one by one get off of the night shift, and he sets up a midnight picnic on the golf course. It turns out that when your parents own the country club you're allowed to do things like that.

At one point, Chad finds himself alone, standing next to Gabi, who's there as Ryan's guest despite quitting her life-guarding job after the whole thing with Troy went down. He should say something to her. It's just the two of them, and it's awkward to stand there not talking. Chad's talked to her as Ryan, has chatted and joked with her. But the last time he talked to her as himself, she told him he was essentially selfish and lacking in empathy. He wants her to be the way she was as Ryan's friend, but as himself, he's only someone she dislikes.

But what was it Ryan's been pushing at him all week? He needs to be brave. So he takes a deep breath and tries. "Hey."

"Hi Chad, nice night," she says noncommittally.

"Listen," he tries. "I just wanted to say sorry. For how I tried to break you and Troy up when you came to East High."

"Oh, thanks," she says, giving him a look that says she's not sure what he's getting at. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

"I just wanted you to know that I am sorry," he says. Then, smiling, "And I'm hoping if I'm nice enough I'll convince you to give me your mom's brownie recipe."

Gabi tilts her head, studying him. "How did you know about that?"

"What?"

"My mom's brownie recipe. How did you know about that?"

Shit. That was Ryan in the kitchen. She said that Troy didn't even realize they were homemade. And Chad certainly wouldn't have noticed if he were out back with the guys. He would have just shoveled them down and been done with it. "Oh, Ryan must have told me about it," he says, voice rising at the end, like it's a question.

Gabi narrows her eyes, before her face settles, seeming to have decided to believe him. "You and Ryan have been hanging out a lot recently."

"So?" Chad asks, trying not to let defensiveness creep into his voice. He wants Gabi to decide to like him, and she didn't like him before, so he can't retreat into his old patterns.

"Nothing, I just thought you didn't like him."

"I didn't," Chad says honestly. "I was wrong."

"Well maybe I was wrong about you too. You're not as bad as I thought."

"So I can have that cookie recipe?"

"Not a chance."

"Hey, Gabi," Troy asks, coming up behind Gabi and wrapping her arms around her waist. Then he directs his attention to Chad. "Chad, what are you talking about?

"Cookies," Chad says.

"Cookies?"

"Yeah, I want some," Chad says. "I'm gonna go get some from the kitchen and leave you two lovebirds to it."

Gabi giggles at that, ducking her face down. Troy just says, "Whatever, later man," before ducking his head down, following Gabi so that his face is in her shoulder.

Chad turns to head to the kitchen, looking up at the huge summer sky above them. He loves being outside at night. The space is so grand and beautiful.

"Hey." Chad's musing is interrupted by Ryan running up behind him and falling in step next to him. "Where are you headed?"

"To the kitchen for snacks. Want to come?"

"Yeah," Ryan says, then falls silent.

They fall in step with one another, strides matching. Chad looks around and thinks about all that this golf course has seen, all this summer has seen, all that Ryan has seen of him, and summer's barely half over. They're quiet enough that Chad can get swept away in his own thoughts. Or maybe it's not quiet enough that matters. It's that it's the right type of quiet. This isn't an awkward silence. It's like they're both marveling at the same things, the same space, and changes and differences and experiences. They enjoying being together without having to talk. Maybe that's a side effect of having literally walked in the others shoes, that they can walk with each other like this.

But a moment can't last forever, and about half way back Ryan breaks it. "I saw you talking to Gabi."

"Yeah."

"What were you talking about? I thought she didn't like you."

"I was apologizing."

"Oh, wow."

"I'm trying," Chad says, "maybe not fast enough for you-"

"I-" Ryan starts.

"No, let me finish," Chad cuts him off. "Maybe I'm not reinventing myself fast enough for you, but I am trying. I had fun this summer. I liked performing. But I liked my life before. I want the senior year I was dreaming of when the summer started. And I'd like to be your friend, but you have to be willing to meet me halfway."

"That was a really big speech."

"Did it work?"

"You can be braver than you realize."

"Ryan," Chad sighs, thinking it didn't work.

"But," Ryan says, continuing, "if you can deal with that, then I'll try to deal."

"So we're friends, then?" Chad asks, wanting it spelled out. There have been enough misunderstandings and confusion between them to last a lifetime.

"Yeah, friends," Ryan says. "The type of friends who make out in the kitchen while our friends are having a picnic on the golf course?"

"Ryan!" Chad says, scandalized.

"Well, are we? I just want to be clear." Ryan's voice is song-song mocking. "Come on, Chad."

"I'd like that," Chad mutters, barely loud enough for Ryan to hear.

But he does. "Great," Ryan says softly, before taking off running towards the kitchen. "I'll beat you there," he calls back to Chad.

"Never," Chad shouts back, shaking his head and sprinting after Ryan.

---

Epilogue:

It's the end of the first day of the first day of school, and Chad's getting a ride home with Troy in the monstrosity of a truck his dad gave him.

"Man," Chad says, as the engine finally catches on Troy's third try. "This truck is a piece of shit."

"Hey, it started, and I don't see you having a car."

"Oh, I'm sorry, some of us worked crappy kitchen jobs all summer and still can't afford one."

"You know I didn't ask for that."

"I'm know, I'm kidding. Too soon?"

"I still feel bad about that."

"You don't have to, I'm over it."

"It's just nice to be back."

"In school?"

"Well, maybe not the school part of it. I could do without seeing any more Darbus."

"Couldn't we all?"

"But, yeah, it was nice to be back with the team for real."

"Yeah, we're totally going to be back to back champions."

"For sure, but it's nice just for everything to go back to normal. I feel like I totally wasn't myself this summer."

Chad snorts, and Troy gives him a look. The snort's not for the reason Troy thinks. Troy was exactly himself, just himself being a dick. Chad, on the other hand… "You're not the only one," is all Chad can say to that.

Except that's not the type of statement someone lets hang. And Troy's no exception. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No, you can't just say that. You have to tell me."

And Chad isn't going to tell Troy that he spent a few weeks of the summer as Ryan. But there is something else he can tell him.

Ryan's lived up to his end of their truce, pushing Chad until Chad has to kiss Ryan to shut him up and they end up making out in Ryan's bed until he forgets that he was in the middle of nagging Chad. He makes it a point to hang out with the Wildcats to show Chad that they're all totally cool with him, and that Chad's paranoia is only in his head. (Of course, when Chad mentions this to Ryan, Ryan snorts and says, "Or I'm hanging out with them because they're my friends. As much as it might disappoint you to know, my life doesn't revolve around you," and then ruins it by adding, "but you are welcome to get that message from it," with a knowing smile.)

So it's possible that Chad didn't unintentionally back himself into this corner. It's possible he's been trying to work up the courage to do it for weeks. It's possible he's been dropping hints and conversational openers even if he'll never admit it.

And Troy, who Chad never noticed before is not quick on the uptake, has finally picked it up. Chad takes a deep breath to steady himself, and says, "Well, there is something I wanted to talk about."