Post by Tainted Promises on Jul 2, 2008 22:58:34 GMT -5
im not gunna post all the chapters but ill give the link so you can read it on the other website. P.S. it's not really graphic because it is censored on this website!
there are 7 chapters in all btw.
oh heres the link: www.fanfiction.net/s/2929830/2/Tainted_Promise
just go there and click on the other chapters u want to read!
Chapter 2:
Ryan’s POV+
If there has ever been a time when I wanted to kill Troy Bolton, this is it. So I didn’t think he was so bad, right? I mean, we talked for awhile. I accidentally let some things slip about how I feel worthless in my family, and he tried to make me feel better, telling me about how his dad always wanted him to be the “basketball guy” and he always wanted to be something more. It helped me sort of understand that he deserved that drama part more than we did—Sharpay wouldn’t ever listen though, even if I told her the way he told me. We had lunch, which was some sort of rice thing with some sort of meat—I’ve never cared for airplane food, and then we decided to watch TV.
Yeah, this plane? The channels are awesome. I mean, they have so many.
I watched a show for about five minutes, until I realized they were talking in Chinese, so I switched to a different one. Troy laughed at me, and my ears turned red—again. They had Nick Jr. and Cartoon Network for the little kids. I settled on watching MTV, with this episode where Jesse McCartney was being punk’d. Anyway, Troy was watching the Food Network, (don’t look at me), I was just trying not to show how happy I was that Jesse McCartney was on TV. I didn’t notice anything, until I realized that the roaring sound I heard wasn’t coming from the motorcycles that Jesse McCartney’s car “accidentally” crashed into. I pulled out my headphones, and I looked over at Troy, who was snoring like a train. I swear. I guess he couldn’t stay up long enough for Rachael Ray to finish her thirty minute meal.
So then, I put my headphones back in my ears and turned up the volume. Guess what? Troy’s snores still could be heard over the volume which was up at the highest level! I mean, his snores were all like “agggggggggggggg” and “urggghhhhhhhh.” He snores even louder than Matt—and that is an accomplishment.
I really didn’t want to wake him up because he might have been angry. So that explains why I’m still sitting here, listening to him snore.
Oh God, I’m really tired. I really need to go to sleep. If only Troy wasn’t snoring so loud—I’ve always kind of been a light sleeper. I’m probably going to die in Vietnam. He’s going to keep me up every night.
I look over at him. He looks so young when he’s asleep, like a little kid, but I guess everybody looks younger when they’re sleeping. He’s so gorgeous that it sort of makes up for the way he snores. Yeah, I’m gay—I’ve been gay since I was a freshman, but I’ve never told anybody, well, nobody except Sharpay. She didn’t really care—that made sure I wouldn’t star with some other girl in a drama production. I used to have a huge crush on Troy when we were sophomores, but he didn’t pay any attention to me at all, so I just stopped liking him. And besides, it was awkward liking the same guy that your twin sister liked. But now, as I’m looking at his beautiful, flawless skin, I can feel old feelings creeping up again.
God he’s so beautiful—I bet he could model for American Eagle or something. I pull off my hat and plug in the headphones. Let’s just listen to music. I don’t want my heart to be broken, because he’s straight anyway, isn’t he? Well, I mean he was going out with Gabriella and everything. He broke up with her though… oh God, I can’t get my hopes up, so I’m going back to my music. I find this classical channel—yeah, classical can calm me sometimes, and I close my eyes to lose myself in the music…
Troy’s POV+
I groan softly, and move. Something’s on my shoulder. I open one eye sleepily—yeah, this plane ride can really put a person out—and then, shocked, I open the other eye.
Now I’m sitting all straight, trying to do anything, but move. Ryan’s sleeping on my shoulder, his blonde head resting on it. I’m trying to ignore the fact that he looks pretty cute without his hat on—not that I have a thing for guys or anything, but uh… forget it. What am I talking about? I hate blonde hair.
I move, trying to position myself in a way that I won’t wake Ryan up, but so my shoulder won’t go to sleep either. Ryan makes this weird “ummh” noise and he stirs a little, but keeps on sleeping. He looks so little and vulnerable, and somehow I feel like I have to protect him from everything.
I pull out my headphones and start switching channels around on the TV. I’m never watching the food channel again if I can help it—I went to sleep listening to that Giada Italian lady babble on, and that old Southern lady! Oh my God, how can you make one pan of brownies with eight sticks of butter?
I decide to watch Nick Jr., (hey, I’ve always had a thing for Dora the Explorer, ok?). Anyway, basically Dora goes on this huge journey to save Humpty Dumpty or something, and by the time I’ve realized that Dora has a cousin named Diego who has his own show, the pilot is announcing that we’re almost in Vietnam. I honestly can’t wait, I’m so excited. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight—well we are in a completely different time zone.
Ryan mutters a little and moves closer to me. I can smell his hair, which smells like watermelon and cucumbers in a weird way. Did I mention that watermelon is my favorite fruit and cucumbers are my favorite vegetables?
When the pilot stops talking, (actually he screams really loudly), over the intercom, Ryan starts moving and he wakes up. He pulls away from my shoulder, really nervously, and his face turns all red. “Sorry,” he mutters.
I’m trying to get rid of the fact that I think he’s cute when his face colors and that my shoulder really feels empty without his head on it. I’m also trying not to let my face turn red because I was smelling his hair to get that watermelon and cucumber smell. “It’s ok.”
“So we’re almost there?” he rubs his eyes sleepily, and I’m trying to ignore the fact that his face is really beautiful. He has these blue eyes and these really pink lips, and this really clean skin that is zit-free.
It takes me awhile to answer his question. “What? Oh, yeah.”
What is wrong with me? I don’t like guys, I like girls! I mean, I look at girls, I talk to girls, my stomach feels queasy when I talk to girls, but Ryan is making my heart turn inside out! Ugh, I glance away from him, trying not to let him know that I know that my face is burning.
Luckily, the plane starts a descent, and soon the ground is rattling underneath us. We’re here.
We get all out stuff—Mrs. Darbus is howling at us—and we manage to get off the plane. I don’t really feel like talking about all the stuff—we mainly got all our suitcases from the conveyor belt without too many fights, (well Zeke ended up carrying all of Sharpay’s stuff, so Ryan only had to hold his own stuff), and we go outside to wait for the tour guide bus to pick us up. I’m smiling, even though I’m completely drained form the plane ride and have to go to the bathroom really bad, because we’re here. We’re here. Vietnam.
Ryan’s POV+
We got off the plane and now we’re standing outside waiting for the tour guide to pick us all up. Mrs. Darbus is walking back and forth, staring hard at her watch, because the tour guide is like four minutes late.
I don’t really blame him. Ok, it is pouring outside, the rain’s dripping everywhere, and we’re all standing under this big roof watching the rain come down like crazy. I never knew it rained so much—I wouldn’t have known that we were in Vietnam, but a few things tip me off.
First, even though everything’s completely wet, it’s burning outside, like I just stepped out into an oven. This is the hottest weather I’ve ever been in my whole life, and Mrs. Darbus is telling us this is probably the coldest it will be here when we’re in Vietnam. I’ve only been standing out here for like, what, four minutes, and my shirt is sticking to my back with sweat. Sharpay is fanning herself like crazy with some cheap fan she bought from this lady right now and she’s looking all flustered because sweat is glistening on her cheeks. She’s also making Zeke fan her, and the poor guy looks like he’s going to pass out. “Oh my God, I’m not sweating,” Sharpay’s going on right now, while Gabriella is just trying to tie up her hair so no more sweat gathers on it—long hair is not good when it’s hot outside. Kelsi is spraying herself with one of those water fans, and Jason is trying to steal it from her. Everybody is sweating like crazy—I pull off my hat, and the whole rim of the thing is covered with sweat. I deciding never to wear my hat again, and I notice the whole armpit area of my shirt is covered in sweat—I really should have worn a t-shirt or shorts or something. Troy’s wearing this Volcom Stone shirt that’s so sweaty that it looks like he went swimming in it. He’s slapping away at the mosquitoes—yeah, the mosquitoes are already biting us like crazy—demonstrated by Chad running around spraying bug-spray all over himself, while Taylor’s laughing. Troy grins at me and tells me that Chad’s afraid of bugs. Wow, Troy, I never would have guessed.
The second reason why I know we’re in Vietnam is because of all the Vietnamese people. No offense, but I feel awkward in a completely Asian society—I know it’s stupid, I mean, what was I thinking? Everybody was going to be white? People are staring at us—wow, you should see these people, they’re not even sweating they’re so used to the heat—mainly at Chad with his bug-spray. Anyway, I feel really odd, but that’s another reason why I known I’m not in America anymore.
Ok, the bus has arrived, and this guy comes out. He gets out of the bus, and before he says anything, Mrs. Darbus is screaming at him, “Why are you late? Can’t you get here on time?”
The poor guy pushes back his thick black hair and apologizes to her. Then, in a strained voice and a slight accent, he manages to say, “Hello. My name is Vinh, and I am going to be your tour guide in Vietnam. Please hand the suitcases to Giao,” he indicates the bus driver, “and get on the bus. I will take you to the hotel and tomorrow I will take you to the orphanages, ok?”
He gets on the bus and mutters something to Giao who climbs out of the bus and starts helping us load all our suitcases. Sharpay doesn’t even help the poor guy—she just gets on the bus complaining about how her hair is all wet now. Troy, Chad, Jason, and I get down and help Giao load the suitcases, and pretty soon we’re finished and on the bus.
Everybody ends up sitting with somebody, but I just sit down by myself—some weird kid named Fulton sits next to me. Vinh explains to us on the way about Vietnam—why the buildings are all stacked up on each other because it’s a skinny country, so there’s not too much room, how the people mainly get by on bicycles and motorcycles, and how most people are either extremely rich or extremely poor. I feel weird, like I’m some extremely rich kid now—which I guess I sort of am.
The only thing that sort of amazes me so far though is how the people cross the streets. They don’t have street lights so everybody just sort of walks when they want and the cars and the motorcycles and the bicycles just all go at the same time. The people who ride the bicycles ride like crazy to keep up with the rest of the traffic. The traffic just goes—some people drive really fast and the other people just walk and not one person gets hit. It’s one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever seen.
Anyway, I’ve only been here for like half an hour, and I’m already in love with this place. There’s so much life, so much culture.
I really can’t wait, and I’m still thinking about it as we get off and go into the hotel.
Troy’s POV+
Ok, we check into this hotel—it’s pretty nice, and Ryan and I get our room. Mrs. Darbus made sure all of our rooms were on the same floor, but she said that if any of us went to each other’s rooms—well, more like the girls go to the guys’ rooms or visa-versa—she’d put us on a plane and send us back to America.
We believe her too, so we don’t try it. At least not on the first night.
Anyway, Ryan and I open the door to our room—it’s an ok size—and we pull our stuff in and drop it on the ground. There’s a pull-out couch and a pretty nice bathroom. Not the greatest place I’ve ever been, but not the worst either. The one thing that sort of freaks me out, even though it shouldn’t, is that there’s only one bed. That means Ryan and I are going to have to sleep together in the same bed unless I sleep on the couch or something, which I really don’t feel like doing.
Anyway, I’m pretty tired—yeah, I know I said I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep, but now I’m tired, ok? So I get ready to change—yes, I do have pajamas, I’m not some kind of caveman—and so I open my suitcase and dig through it. Some jeans, a lot of shorts, a lot of t-shirts, and one light sweater, until I find my pajama pants. They’re these blue ones, so I just put them on along with a white t-shirt. I just change right there in the room and I don’t feel awkward or anything until I realize Ryan’s staring at me.
My face turns all red, and I look over at him only to see his face turn red too. He rips open his suitcase and starts going through all his clothes. His clothes draw my attention off him for a second.
Ok, a whole bunch of long, collared shirts, long pants, and, I can’t believe it! T-shirts and shorts! I never would have imagined that Ryan Evans owned a t-shirt.
He pulls on his pajamas—which are like mine, basically, except his t-shirt is this dark blue one that has “New York” written on it surrounded by these little rhinestone things. I try not to notice how the t-shirt fits all tightly over his thin frame.
Yeah, Ryan Evans? He’s skinny. It’s not in an unhealthy way, but he’s just sort of skinny and lanky—I’m taller than him though, and bigger with a more muscular build.
Ok, since I feel weird talking about my body frame, I’m going to change the subject. I walk in, and pull out my toothbrush and brush my teeth casually. Ryan, however, brushes his teeth for like five minutes. He keeps on brushing and brushing and brushing, and stops when I look at him weird. He washes his face too—hey, don’t look at me, I wash my face, but not that thoroughly, with all this special soap. Then I notice how white and clean his skin is and how white and even his teeth are.
I don’t know what’s happening to me, so I climb into the bed and tell Ryan I’m going to go to sleep. It’s not long before he joins me. I consider going to sleep on the couch, but he makes sure to leave like a foot of distance between us, so it’s ok.
I don’t go to sleep until I hear his soft breaths—I sort of snore loudly and I don’t want to bug him—and then I close my eyes and go to sleep, whispering before I do, “Good night, Ryan.” I feel like a dork saying it, but somehow, I feel like it’s the right thing to do, and from the soft breaths, I guess he does too.
there are 7 chapters in all btw.
oh heres the link: www.fanfiction.net/s/2929830/2/Tainted_Promise
just go there and click on the other chapters u want to read!
Chapter 2:
Ryan’s POV+
If there has ever been a time when I wanted to kill Troy Bolton, this is it. So I didn’t think he was so bad, right? I mean, we talked for awhile. I accidentally let some things slip about how I feel worthless in my family, and he tried to make me feel better, telling me about how his dad always wanted him to be the “basketball guy” and he always wanted to be something more. It helped me sort of understand that he deserved that drama part more than we did—Sharpay wouldn’t ever listen though, even if I told her the way he told me. We had lunch, which was some sort of rice thing with some sort of meat—I’ve never cared for airplane food, and then we decided to watch TV.
Yeah, this plane? The channels are awesome. I mean, they have so many.
I watched a show for about five minutes, until I realized they were talking in Chinese, so I switched to a different one. Troy laughed at me, and my ears turned red—again. They had Nick Jr. and Cartoon Network for the little kids. I settled on watching MTV, with this episode where Jesse McCartney was being punk’d. Anyway, Troy was watching the Food Network, (don’t look at me), I was just trying not to show how happy I was that Jesse McCartney was on TV. I didn’t notice anything, until I realized that the roaring sound I heard wasn’t coming from the motorcycles that Jesse McCartney’s car “accidentally” crashed into. I pulled out my headphones, and I looked over at Troy, who was snoring like a train. I swear. I guess he couldn’t stay up long enough for Rachael Ray to finish her thirty minute meal.
So then, I put my headphones back in my ears and turned up the volume. Guess what? Troy’s snores still could be heard over the volume which was up at the highest level! I mean, his snores were all like “agggggggggggggg” and “urggghhhhhhhh.” He snores even louder than Matt—and that is an accomplishment.
I really didn’t want to wake him up because he might have been angry. So that explains why I’m still sitting here, listening to him snore.
Oh God, I’m really tired. I really need to go to sleep. If only Troy wasn’t snoring so loud—I’ve always kind of been a light sleeper. I’m probably going to die in Vietnam. He’s going to keep me up every night.
I look over at him. He looks so young when he’s asleep, like a little kid, but I guess everybody looks younger when they’re sleeping. He’s so gorgeous that it sort of makes up for the way he snores. Yeah, I’m gay—I’ve been gay since I was a freshman, but I’ve never told anybody, well, nobody except Sharpay. She didn’t really care—that made sure I wouldn’t star with some other girl in a drama production. I used to have a huge crush on Troy when we were sophomores, but he didn’t pay any attention to me at all, so I just stopped liking him. And besides, it was awkward liking the same guy that your twin sister liked. But now, as I’m looking at his beautiful, flawless skin, I can feel old feelings creeping up again.
God he’s so beautiful—I bet he could model for American Eagle or something. I pull off my hat and plug in the headphones. Let’s just listen to music. I don’t want my heart to be broken, because he’s straight anyway, isn’t he? Well, I mean he was going out with Gabriella and everything. He broke up with her though… oh God, I can’t get my hopes up, so I’m going back to my music. I find this classical channel—yeah, classical can calm me sometimes, and I close my eyes to lose myself in the music…
Troy’s POV+
I groan softly, and move. Something’s on my shoulder. I open one eye sleepily—yeah, this plane ride can really put a person out—and then, shocked, I open the other eye.
Now I’m sitting all straight, trying to do anything, but move. Ryan’s sleeping on my shoulder, his blonde head resting on it. I’m trying to ignore the fact that he looks pretty cute without his hat on—not that I have a thing for guys or anything, but uh… forget it. What am I talking about? I hate blonde hair.
I move, trying to position myself in a way that I won’t wake Ryan up, but so my shoulder won’t go to sleep either. Ryan makes this weird “ummh” noise and he stirs a little, but keeps on sleeping. He looks so little and vulnerable, and somehow I feel like I have to protect him from everything.
I pull out my headphones and start switching channels around on the TV. I’m never watching the food channel again if I can help it—I went to sleep listening to that Giada Italian lady babble on, and that old Southern lady! Oh my God, how can you make one pan of brownies with eight sticks of butter?
I decide to watch Nick Jr., (hey, I’ve always had a thing for Dora the Explorer, ok?). Anyway, basically Dora goes on this huge journey to save Humpty Dumpty or something, and by the time I’ve realized that Dora has a cousin named Diego who has his own show, the pilot is announcing that we’re almost in Vietnam. I honestly can’t wait, I’m so excited. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight—well we are in a completely different time zone.
Ryan mutters a little and moves closer to me. I can smell his hair, which smells like watermelon and cucumbers in a weird way. Did I mention that watermelon is my favorite fruit and cucumbers are my favorite vegetables?
When the pilot stops talking, (actually he screams really loudly), over the intercom, Ryan starts moving and he wakes up. He pulls away from my shoulder, really nervously, and his face turns all red. “Sorry,” he mutters.
I’m trying to get rid of the fact that I think he’s cute when his face colors and that my shoulder really feels empty without his head on it. I’m also trying not to let my face turn red because I was smelling his hair to get that watermelon and cucumber smell. “It’s ok.”
“So we’re almost there?” he rubs his eyes sleepily, and I’m trying to ignore the fact that his face is really beautiful. He has these blue eyes and these really pink lips, and this really clean skin that is zit-free.
It takes me awhile to answer his question. “What? Oh, yeah.”
What is wrong with me? I don’t like guys, I like girls! I mean, I look at girls, I talk to girls, my stomach feels queasy when I talk to girls, but Ryan is making my heart turn inside out! Ugh, I glance away from him, trying not to let him know that I know that my face is burning.
Luckily, the plane starts a descent, and soon the ground is rattling underneath us. We’re here.
We get all out stuff—Mrs. Darbus is howling at us—and we manage to get off the plane. I don’t really feel like talking about all the stuff—we mainly got all our suitcases from the conveyor belt without too many fights, (well Zeke ended up carrying all of Sharpay’s stuff, so Ryan only had to hold his own stuff), and we go outside to wait for the tour guide bus to pick us up. I’m smiling, even though I’m completely drained form the plane ride and have to go to the bathroom really bad, because we’re here. We’re here. Vietnam.
Ryan’s POV+
We got off the plane and now we’re standing outside waiting for the tour guide to pick us all up. Mrs. Darbus is walking back and forth, staring hard at her watch, because the tour guide is like four minutes late.
I don’t really blame him. Ok, it is pouring outside, the rain’s dripping everywhere, and we’re all standing under this big roof watching the rain come down like crazy. I never knew it rained so much—I wouldn’t have known that we were in Vietnam, but a few things tip me off.
First, even though everything’s completely wet, it’s burning outside, like I just stepped out into an oven. This is the hottest weather I’ve ever been in my whole life, and Mrs. Darbus is telling us this is probably the coldest it will be here when we’re in Vietnam. I’ve only been standing out here for like, what, four minutes, and my shirt is sticking to my back with sweat. Sharpay is fanning herself like crazy with some cheap fan she bought from this lady right now and she’s looking all flustered because sweat is glistening on her cheeks. She’s also making Zeke fan her, and the poor guy looks like he’s going to pass out. “Oh my God, I’m not sweating,” Sharpay’s going on right now, while Gabriella is just trying to tie up her hair so no more sweat gathers on it—long hair is not good when it’s hot outside. Kelsi is spraying herself with one of those water fans, and Jason is trying to steal it from her. Everybody is sweating like crazy—I pull off my hat, and the whole rim of the thing is covered with sweat. I deciding never to wear my hat again, and I notice the whole armpit area of my shirt is covered in sweat—I really should have worn a t-shirt or shorts or something. Troy’s wearing this Volcom Stone shirt that’s so sweaty that it looks like he went swimming in it. He’s slapping away at the mosquitoes—yeah, the mosquitoes are already biting us like crazy—demonstrated by Chad running around spraying bug-spray all over himself, while Taylor’s laughing. Troy grins at me and tells me that Chad’s afraid of bugs. Wow, Troy, I never would have guessed.
The second reason why I know we’re in Vietnam is because of all the Vietnamese people. No offense, but I feel awkward in a completely Asian society—I know it’s stupid, I mean, what was I thinking? Everybody was going to be white? People are staring at us—wow, you should see these people, they’re not even sweating they’re so used to the heat—mainly at Chad with his bug-spray. Anyway, I feel really odd, but that’s another reason why I known I’m not in America anymore.
Ok, the bus has arrived, and this guy comes out. He gets out of the bus, and before he says anything, Mrs. Darbus is screaming at him, “Why are you late? Can’t you get here on time?”
The poor guy pushes back his thick black hair and apologizes to her. Then, in a strained voice and a slight accent, he manages to say, “Hello. My name is Vinh, and I am going to be your tour guide in Vietnam. Please hand the suitcases to Giao,” he indicates the bus driver, “and get on the bus. I will take you to the hotel and tomorrow I will take you to the orphanages, ok?”
He gets on the bus and mutters something to Giao who climbs out of the bus and starts helping us load all our suitcases. Sharpay doesn’t even help the poor guy—she just gets on the bus complaining about how her hair is all wet now. Troy, Chad, Jason, and I get down and help Giao load the suitcases, and pretty soon we’re finished and on the bus.
Everybody ends up sitting with somebody, but I just sit down by myself—some weird kid named Fulton sits next to me. Vinh explains to us on the way about Vietnam—why the buildings are all stacked up on each other because it’s a skinny country, so there’s not too much room, how the people mainly get by on bicycles and motorcycles, and how most people are either extremely rich or extremely poor. I feel weird, like I’m some extremely rich kid now—which I guess I sort of am.
The only thing that sort of amazes me so far though is how the people cross the streets. They don’t have street lights so everybody just sort of walks when they want and the cars and the motorcycles and the bicycles just all go at the same time. The people who ride the bicycles ride like crazy to keep up with the rest of the traffic. The traffic just goes—some people drive really fast and the other people just walk and not one person gets hit. It’s one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever seen.
Anyway, I’ve only been here for like half an hour, and I’m already in love with this place. There’s so much life, so much culture.
I really can’t wait, and I’m still thinking about it as we get off and go into the hotel.
Troy’s POV+
Ok, we check into this hotel—it’s pretty nice, and Ryan and I get our room. Mrs. Darbus made sure all of our rooms were on the same floor, but she said that if any of us went to each other’s rooms—well, more like the girls go to the guys’ rooms or visa-versa—she’d put us on a plane and send us back to America.
We believe her too, so we don’t try it. At least not on the first night.
Anyway, Ryan and I open the door to our room—it’s an ok size—and we pull our stuff in and drop it on the ground. There’s a pull-out couch and a pretty nice bathroom. Not the greatest place I’ve ever been, but not the worst either. The one thing that sort of freaks me out, even though it shouldn’t, is that there’s only one bed. That means Ryan and I are going to have to sleep together in the same bed unless I sleep on the couch or something, which I really don’t feel like doing.
Anyway, I’m pretty tired—yeah, I know I said I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep, but now I’m tired, ok? So I get ready to change—yes, I do have pajamas, I’m not some kind of caveman—and so I open my suitcase and dig through it. Some jeans, a lot of shorts, a lot of t-shirts, and one light sweater, until I find my pajama pants. They’re these blue ones, so I just put them on along with a white t-shirt. I just change right there in the room and I don’t feel awkward or anything until I realize Ryan’s staring at me.
My face turns all red, and I look over at him only to see his face turn red too. He rips open his suitcase and starts going through all his clothes. His clothes draw my attention off him for a second.
Ok, a whole bunch of long, collared shirts, long pants, and, I can’t believe it! T-shirts and shorts! I never would have imagined that Ryan Evans owned a t-shirt.
He pulls on his pajamas—which are like mine, basically, except his t-shirt is this dark blue one that has “New York” written on it surrounded by these little rhinestone things. I try not to notice how the t-shirt fits all tightly over his thin frame.
Yeah, Ryan Evans? He’s skinny. It’s not in an unhealthy way, but he’s just sort of skinny and lanky—I’m taller than him though, and bigger with a more muscular build.
Ok, since I feel weird talking about my body frame, I’m going to change the subject. I walk in, and pull out my toothbrush and brush my teeth casually. Ryan, however, brushes his teeth for like five minutes. He keeps on brushing and brushing and brushing, and stops when I look at him weird. He washes his face too—hey, don’t look at me, I wash my face, but not that thoroughly, with all this special soap. Then I notice how white and clean his skin is and how white and even his teeth are.
I don’t know what’s happening to me, so I climb into the bed and tell Ryan I’m going to go to sleep. It’s not long before he joins me. I consider going to sleep on the couch, but he makes sure to leave like a foot of distance between us, so it’s ok.
I don’t go to sleep until I hear his soft breaths—I sort of snore loudly and I don’t want to bug him—and then I close my eyes and go to sleep, whispering before I do, “Good night, Ryan.” I feel like a dork saying it, but somehow, I feel like it’s the right thing to do, and from the soft breaths, I guess he does too.
(kisses)