Hey.

It's been like what, 20 years?

I don't own- Joe Mantello, Caffe Baci, Stephen Schwartz, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, Paris Hilton, Megan Hilty, Kristin Chenoweth, the Wicked Creative team, the Oriental Theater,

For the amount of time that I had known Joe Mantello, I had known that he was a dork, but this was just ridiculous. The way he gushed over the fine design of my new apartment in Chicago was beyond nerdy. I stuffed my frozen fists deeper into my pockets and sighed. It had been cold in New York, but it was freezing in Chicago.

"So what do you think, Sharpay?" Joe suddenly asked. I tilted my head toward the ceiling and noticed how low it was, compared to the loft back home. How could I be accustomed to such a confined space?

"It's perfect," I said in spite of myself. Just then, Megan Hilty came bounding down from the upper level of my new home, a bright smile glued to her face.

"Shar, you've gotta see the upstairs, it's amazing!" she swooned. "Two bedrooms, an en suite bathroom, I even found a bottle of nail polish in one of the cabinets!"

I moved across the hardwood floor, and it groaned under my weight. "How wonderful." I said flatly. All I was really interested in was going to my hotel in the heart of Chicago, taking a long hot bath after my flight, getting into my pajamas, calling Ryan, and going to bed. Little did I know, Joe had plenty of other plans for me.

"You can explore the rest later, Sharpay. We have dinner reservations at eight at Caffe Baci with the rest of the Wicked Creative team. That gives you just enough time to change clothes..." he suddenly looked down at my pink pajama pants, red sweatshirt, and disheveled hair. "And do something with your hair."

"I'll help!" Megan suddenly squeaked, and I couldn't have been any happier to have a Broadway actress ready to do damage control.

I shivered inside of my peacoat and my stomach flip-flopped in that odd way it used to whenever Troy was around. But now, it was for a completely different reason. I awkwardly stood now in front of the Ford's Center of Performing Arts double doors. I remembered the first time I was there. The way I was ready to vomit, the way, Ryan had to coach me through petty little text messages.

Things had changed since then.

The inside of Caffe Baci was warm and welcoming the spicy smell of brewing lattes and the warmth of Megan Hilty's hand in mine were both exactly what I needed at the time. I never had gotten the chance to call Ryan since my flight landed, and I was simply exhausted. The pinches I got on the elbow from Megan were the only things keeping me awake.

We slithered past leather booths until we arrived at a VIP area, simply drenched with executives. A few of the important faces looked familiar, and my knees locked. These were the people that were to secure my future. "Sharpay!" Mr. Mantello stood up from a booth, introducing the representatives that sat with him. There were so many names and titles and so many hands to shake, that they were all forgotten. I wanted nothing more than a large caramel latte heaped with whipped cream and a chair to sit in.

But I suddenly snapped to attention at the sight of a familiar young man with blue eyes and dirty blonde hair and a strong cut chin. Under the dim lighting I saw him conversing with some of the members of the Wicked Creative team, and I could have sworn that it was...

"Carter Schwartz. Nephew of Stephen Schwartz, the composer. Son of William Schwartz, member of the creative team," Megan Hilty whispered in my ear. "What. A. God. Sharpay! He's looking right at you!" Megan hissed.

And he was. His blue eyes cut in my direction and I could have sworn he winked. The way he hunched over his coffee was hot enough, the wink was totally unnecessary. I eased out a breath, reminding myself of the negative consequences of being unfaithful. Troy. I had Troy. Sort of.

"Let's go talk to him," Megan said through her glamorous smile. She steered me in the direction of his cozy booth were he was speaking with who I assumed to be his father, and forced me down against the leather of the booth next to him. He looked nowhere near surprised to see me, almost as if he had planned our entire run-in. The mere thought made me squirm in my seat and toy with the ends of my blonde wavy hair.

"Carter," I stated. He smiled.

"Nice to see you again, Sharpay." He looked so professional, but the guy that I spoke with over candlelight and lasagna back in New York still existed in his eyes. "This is my father, William Schwartz." he introduced a man with salt-and-pepper hair and shivering blue eyes that stood out prominently. "Dad, Sharpay auditioned for the role of Galinda a few..."

"How could I forget?" he was suddenly reaching across the table and shaking my hand violently. "Stupendous! Amazing! I can't wait to see what else you've got..." Megan suddenly crammed her tiny butt into the leather area next to me, and my delicate shoulder made contact with Carter's. I stole a whiff of him, and instantly thought of Troy and an unfamiliar cologne that would probably be on his bathroom shelf back home.

"Willyy..." Megan said his name in a knowing way. I wished that someday soon, these people that seemed so professional and inevitable would treat me as old friends like they did with Megan Hilty. "How are you this evening?"

I found Mr. Schwartz's next droning statements to be my que to politely excuse myself and order my desired caramel latte. "Excuse me for just a moment," I muttered, forcing Megan out of her seat so I was able to get by.

"I'll go with you!" Carter leaped out of the booth next and I gave a sigh of distress. This was not what I needed. I quickly began in a random direction, wherever the scent of coffee came strongest, but it wasn't enough to lose Carter. He was suddenly gently taking my elbow and leading me in the opposite direction. "You look like you could use a latte." his voice kissed my ear. "This way."

I succumbed, and he lead me to a marble bar in a more secluded area of the Caffe Baci. My stomach flip-flopped as he knocked his knuckles against the counter in a casual way and a waiter came running. Why was he suddenly treating me this way? What about Gabriella?

"Caramel latte, extra whipped cream?" he asked.

"God, yes." I found myself saying. He chuckled and I pursed my glossed lips together in an embarrassed confused way. How the hell did he know that?

"So," he said. "Are you ready to live this kind of lifestyle?" he suddenly asked me. I felt as though I was in my first interview, except the interviewer had a striking resemblance to Jonathan Taylor Thomas and was dating one of my closest friends.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Meeting executive types, being interviewed, late rehearsal nights, reserved spots for pictures of you on the front of tabloids?"

"I'm going to be a Broadway star, not the next Paris Hilton." I argued. He laughed. I laughed. My shoulders fell slightly and I finally felt more relaxed. But I was dropped in heaven when a waiter slid a ceramic mug in front of me, pillows of whipped cream mounting off of it, steaming coffee hidden below. I almost wanted to hug Carter, but stopped myself. I took a polite sip, the scalding coffee burning my tongue and my throat. But it was so fucking satisfying at the same time.

As I placed the mug back on the counter, Carter let out his charming laugh again. "What is it this time?" I rolled my chocolate brown eyes.

"You've got a little..." he brushed his index finger against my top lip. "...whipped cream." I shied away from him, the tiniest hint of blush crawling onto my cheeks. There was something about Carter Schwartz delicately touching my face... it probably had to do with the fact that he was my best friend's boyfriend.

I went for the hot mug again, but Carter stopped me. "You know, if you're going to live in Chicago, you're going to have to know your city well," he explained. "And why not learn from a Chicago native?"

"What are you implying?" I eyed him suspiciously.

"Let's get the heck out of here."

The looming doors of the Oriental Theater were wide open. How late for this meeting was I? The entire theater was dim and empty, the red carpet was freshly vacuumed, but the essence of the performers before me still lived. I remembered meeting the Megan Hilty and the Kristin Chenoweth in this exact room, when the starlight had been injected into my eyes.

My phone vibrated once more.

Where did the magic go?

"Security just informed us that you've entered the building. Where are you?" Megan Hiltly barked on the other end. It was odd, knowing the Megan Hilty that had welcomed me into the Wicked family could become so stony.

"I'm coming," I croaked.

I looked into the dark room once more before continuing down the hallway. It was all symbolic somehow, right down to the ruby velvet of the seats of the Oriental Theater.

I was leaving what I once knew.

Do you remember the last time you were caught in the snow with an attractive male, Sharpay? I asked myself as we traveled away from the Caffe Baci. You were with Troy, I told myself. It was right after you gave yourself to him on Christmas Eve and you and Gabriella and Ryan went to Serendipity's as a big happy family. It was snowing then. I shuddered slightly as Carter and I walked in silence for half a block. Snow coated his well-managed dirty blonde hair.

"So," he started again. "How is everyone back in New York?"

A simple picture of everyone back at the loft came to mind. Ryan would be kissing his most current hook-up at the front door, Gabriella would be thinking of Carter and disassembling the Christmas tree. Troy would be studying for the exams that he already took. "Fine, I guess." I shrugged.

"Gabriella hasn't said anything?"

"What?"

"About us getting back together?"

I was silent.

Carter sighed and steered himself a little closer. I needed the body heat. "She didn't tell you that we made up recently?" Words were taped down to my throat and I was unable to speak, so he continued. "I used to be a real-jerk off," he admitted. I felt as though I was becoming a part of Gabriella's private life, but I couldn't not listen.

"Why did you dump Gabriella to begin with?" I asked.

"I told you, I was a jerk-off. Everything was just going wrong, and having a girl like Gabriella wasn't making anything easier. Things are even more complicated, what with her living in New York... my father moving us here... being around you..."

My mind seemed to catch his words, sending my conscience spinning. What on earth did he mean by that? "W-what?" I breathed. We suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, strangers pushing past us in the cold. God, those blue eyes looked too real.

"Don't you dare try and tell me that you're not remotely attracted to me," he said so simply. The truth was, I was. What frightened me was the fact that only minutes before, he had confessed he was back together with Gabriella. Did he expect me to throw caution to the wind? I guess he sensed my hesitance, because is expression softened and he eased his hand into mine. "It's okay," he assured me.

A sudden warmth filled my core as I came to realize what kind of guy Carter really was. He seemed deep and sweet and affectionate. Much like a certain basketball playing brunette I knew. Carter squeezed my hand. I squeezed his. It was enough to make me want to tear open his leather jacket, curl inside, and kiss the gorgeous frosty lips that curled into a smile. "Maybe we should head back." Carter warned.

"But you haven't shown me the rest of the city..." I playfully whined. A wind pushed past, and goosebumps sprang, but they came from excitement.

"Tomorrow," Carter told me. The gusts of winter air brought him closer to me.

"Promise?" My voice came quietly. I left the next evening back for New York, back to reality, but I didn't care.

"Promise," he confirmed with more than words, but with lips tender as a snowflake.

The highly glossed wooden doors of Joe Mantello's temporary office challenged me to open them. My future waited on the other side. A perfectly manicured hand pushed one of the doors open.

And I came face-to-face with what I had become.

This chapter was long and draggish, and I feel stupid. If you actually read this, you must have felt sorry for me. But it's what I need for the next chapter.

You people rule.

Review... at your own risk.