Zac Efron (not quite fan) fiction

Inspired by this post.

"She put down all the men she's bedded in Hollywood, and you were one of them."

The words cut through the din of the other paparazzi and Zac paused; his eyes, blessedly hidden behind sunglasses, widened and for a brief moment he forgot how to breath. The immediate flashback was intense and arresting--a blur of body parts, the stink of sweat and stale cigarettes--he closed the car door and pursed his lips together, not fully conscience that their edges turned up into something of smirk.

It was back in August of '07, a party at a music producer's mansion in Malibu. He was riding high off of the success of High School Musical 2 and Zac wasn't sure how he'd pulled it off but he couldn't remember a single sober scene he'd acted. Everyone knew what he did during his frequent bathroom breaks and no one dared to say anything. He was immeasurably glad they didn't. Uttering those lines with a straight face and "honest emotion," dancing poolside with Ortega yelling at him after every goddamn take ("Christ Zac we worked on this sequence for three hours last night. I need more from you.") -- it was impossible to get through without a little extra help.

That August was humid and sticky, every August in LA is, but this summer the central air in his house kept breaking and he'd wake up in the middle night gasping for air and soaking in sweat. He and Vanessa spent days holed up in his place despite the oppressive heat; they lied on his bed drinking whiskey and smoking blunts and fucking. "Your place is cooking us," Vanessa would slur. "We're roasting like chickens. I think I like it though. I think I would taste fucking delicious." They were enabling each other more than they were dating and it had stopped being fun awhile ago but their bodies fit together so nicely and Zac didn't expect anything from her and she had long since stopped expecting anything from him.

Zac hadn't been to this producer's house before but it made no difference. All beachside mansions looked the same and he had grown weary of their homogenous opulence--the furniture a crisp white, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the ocean, big, bold, abstract art on the walls. He remembered, after the night's first hit of molly, standing inches away from one of those pieces, transfixed at the bright globs of paint that jutted off the canvas, and with an urgency he was certain he'd never felt before reached out to touch the paint; but the producer grabbed his wrist and threw it down. "Fuck, man. This is a Still. No touchie." The roughness and abruptness of the producer's touch excited Zac and his dick got hard, fast. He poured himself a drink and sat down on the couch.

Lindsey sat down next to him. It must have been after the the third time she left rehab and even though she was hell--bloodshot eyes, hair greasy at the roots and skin like burnt amber--she was fucking sexy. They stared at each other and said nothing. Zac felt his heart beat through his chest, could swear everyone saw it like he was a goddamn cartoon or something, and his breath quickened. They were still silently looking at each other when he grabbed her hand and put it over his cock. She let out a short laugh and led him into the nearest empty room.

They each snorted a line of coke and started fucking immediately after. They kissed but the cigarettes that drenched her tongue repulsed Zac and he buried his face in her hair. Lindsey's hair smelled so sweet, like an overripe ripe peach, and he filled his mouth, clamped down, and pulled. Her yelp of pain quickly dissolved into a moan of pleasure and he kept chewing until, after a few deep thrusts, he grunted and came. He couldn't remember if she did and frankly he didn't care. He pulled a few strands of her hair out of his mouth and after they both dressed they parted, barely saying goodbye.

Zac hadn't thought about that night in years. When his friend made a hard stop at a red light he jolted forward and tumbled out of his reverie. "You OK, dude? Pretty quiet over there." "Yeah man, everything's cool," Zac said. He looked out the window and shut his eyes.