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— act two, scene fourteen: old times sake
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"See you later," Megara waved to Phillip as she passed him on her way to the girls' designated dressing room for the show. Her smile slowly faded as she noticed Ricky was already there, standing around by her backpack.
"Hey," he said softly. "I didn't know you knew Phillip."
"Not really, just from physics class," Megara pressed her lips together. "What's up?"
Ricky took a deep breath. Oh, where to begin after a night like the one they had just been through? Although, he had to argue that every day since they came back into each other's lives had been eventful. He settled on, "Nothing."
Megara nodded, noticing how he was leaning against the table next to her jacket and bag. "You still on edge? It's okay to say yes."
"All of your tips and tricks and advice really paid off," Ricky said. "Who's gonna be your next charity case?"
"Anyone as long as I don't have to go through rehearsing with you ever again?" Megara leaned her hip against the table in the room as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Yeah?" Ricky asked, nodding his head as he looked straight down into her daring eyes. "You could enter a competition and win the biggest loser in Salt Lake City," he placed his left palm down flat against the table and gained his composure back as he could feel himself leaning forward and into her body.
"You must win that award a lot, huh?" Megara cocked her head sideways, but to her surprise again, his eyes never deterred from her figure.
Slowly, she recognized how close in proximity they were. Sure, they had been used to walking with hands intertwined, spent the last couple of months pressing kisses to each other's cheeks, and even fallen asleep next to each other. But something about this moment was different, and it was evident by the wild look in Ricky's eyes as he stared down at her.
She must have looked confused to him as she was taken by surprise, and although her plump lips parted slightly as if she might add on another snarky comment, she didn't. She just stood there, chest rising and falling as her tan arms were crossed over it. She could feel Ricky's warm breath on her cheek, he was so close she could smell him. It wasn't Throb, it was something better than Throb — like warm cinnamon and vanilla.
To be fair, the ball was fully in Ricky's court. She watched him with wide, curious eyes for a long moment, trying to read his mind. He could have done nearly anything at that moment and she would have tolerated it. Better than that, she would have allowed it.
