by Song Birdy
Author's Notes: Honestly, I'd never written Troy/Sharpay before and I really wanted to. So here it is. I know! Within one day of writing something I wrote something else! Go me! Haha. Jay kay, jay kay. Alright, I really want you to know that I absolutely abhor the ending of this, but I couldn't give it a sad ending, I just couldn't! And so it has this really really crappy one. Sorry. I hate happy endings, I really do. So here it is!
The first kiss is wet and sloppy and awkward. He isn't quite expecting to be kissed in the abandoned classroom, let alone to be kissed by the very object of his hatred: Sharpay Evans. Neither one of them knows where to put their hands, and it seems that they are not touching anywhere but their mouths. They both pull away in shock, barely believing that it even happened. Troy awkwardly mouths the word "thanks" and she shrugs and laughs a little, embarrassed.
The second kiss is better, quieter, and more planned. He hands her a daisy and as her face uncharacteristically lights up. As she glances down in a rare blush, he scoops up under her mouth and catches it with his own. His kiss is like a surprise, exciting, exhilarating, and shocking all at once. Her reaction is like a breath, quick and needing. As quickly as it started, it ends in a smile.
The third kiss is the best. She's in her favorite dress: short and black with a pair of silver heels. He's in his Sunday best, and a cheesy love song is playing in the background. They've each ditched their respective dates for a dance, and fallen back behind the bleachers at the homecoming party. No one can see them, no one will know when his hand cups her face and she leans into it, smelling the unoriginal scent of Axe that she usually hates, but loves when it is on him. His nose brushes against hers gently and for a just moment they breathe as one, eyes closed, kissing but not kissing. It takes moments before they truly are kissing, soft and secret, just feet away from those who would never understand their affections. Ever so soft against her mouth, he tastes like punch and chapstick, and she cherishes the moment with every fiber of her being.
The last kiss before Gabriella is heart breaking. His mind is elsewhere, on brown curly locks and the sweetest voice he's ever heard, sweeter even than Sharpay's. He's telling her that he can't do this anymore, that they can't hide from everyone anymore, that he's found someone new who's sweet and kind and everything he's ever needed, someone who doesn't make him feel dirty like Sharpay does. She's shaking her head, and she's crying. He's never seen her cry before, and he doesn't want to start now. So when she kisses him, he lets her, but the tenderness is not there, the feeling is gone completely. She pulls away and nods, picking up her sequined bag and leaving the room with her signature swish of hips and hair.
The next kiss is far from perfect. She's moved on, or so she thinks, and so has he. She has Zeke, and he has Gabriella. She has been degraded from leading lady to supporting lead and he is now the hero of the theatre and the basketball court. He has haunted her in every hallway, in the local newspapers and now even on her own stage. She puts on her face, her hair, her nails, her act, and she ignores everything: he was never really hers to lose to begin with. Golden Boys don't fall in love with supporting leads; they fall in love with leading ladies. Nonetheless, she finds herself arguing with him the way they used to, a snap, a snipe, a quick moment of endearing and frustrating wit between two people who barely understand each other at all that ends in an angry kiss, hot, unheeding, unbridled and sloppy, though not at all like the first. She pulls away and shakes her head, then runs.
The next kiss is slower, sultry, and planned entirely by Sharpay. Alone in the dressing room, she employs her womanly ways to tempt Adam from his Eve. Like a firefly to the torch, he takes his apple, damning himself and her all at the same time. She turns him, pushing him against the wall, and the roughly pulling away, whispering the words into his ear, "I knew you missed me," before making her exit.
The very last kiss in their series of hidden kisses is the quickest and most meaningful. It's a promise to never hide her, to take her for who she is and not care what his friends say, and it's a promise to be a little nicer, to accept the basketball players as her new boyfriend's friends. It's a vow to be kind to his ex girlfriend, it's a contract: to be each other's for a least one more kiss until they vow again. It's the start of something new.