A/N: Okay, so I didn't plan on uploading anything until this story was finished. But, who's got that kind of time? And I'm impatient so I wanted you to read it. Besides, in celebration of the wedding of the century and Osama being killed, I thought that was another reason to upload :P I've decided for the weekly updates to be on Mondays at approximately 5:30pm GMT time. That may vary. Especially after I've uploaded all of the chapters I've written atm. With exams coming up, things might change :\ If they do, I'll keep you posted.

I haven't really planned a summary of this story but I'll make one up right this second: Gabriella was always different. She was always smarter than her school friends. She wasn't a huge fan of shopping. And, believe it or not, she was a better mechanic than most of the male ones in her hometown of Scarborough. When she applies for a job at Bolton's Garage, there is already friction between her and the owner, Troy. As the friction, annoyance and reluctance between them both decrease, and other feelings take over, secrets from Gabriella's past are revealed one by one. You can't run from your past forever.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter. It isn't much. More of a prologue kind of thing.

Chapter 1

"Do you know if he's hot?" Sharpay Evans asked thoughtfully as she stirred her generously milky coffee.

Predictably, the African-American man who was stood behind the counter threw his hands up. "Hello? Pay. Fiancé within earshot here."

Sharpay flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and waved him off. "I'm thinking of Gabi, actually. Honey, you know I love you."

Zeke smiled and leaned over the counter to kiss her. "You better."

Gabriella Montez pulled a face and held her hand over her eyes. "Please, you guys. That was cute the first week after you got together when we were nineteen. Now it just makes me want to vomit."

Zeke laughed and rested his elbows on the counter. "So, answer Pay's question. Is he hot?"

Gabriella quirked an eyebrow. "Do you know how gay that sounds? People will start thinking you're batting for the other team."

He rolled his eyes. "Hey, you complain when I don't contribute enough and now you complain because I'm contributing too much."

Sharpay patted his arm. "Go back to work, honey."

He sighed. "It's not like the owner can fire me, can he?"

Gabriella sipped her mocha latte. "That was never a funny joke."

Zeke frowned. "You're mean."

"Why do you want to marry him?" Gabriella wondered as she watched Zeke go back to the pile of dough he was in the middle of kneading.

Sharpay shrugged. "Haven't a clue. Anyway, stop avoiding the question."

Gabriella laughed. "Shar, I don't know. I haven't met him. I dropped my application through the letterbox and he left a message on my answering machine, asking for an interview today. So, we shall see."

"But, did he sound hot?"

Gabriella shook her head. "I don't know. I can't say I've ever sat down and classified people's voices as hot or otherwise, Shar."

Sharpay frowned. "Well, you'll have to tell me all about it. I mean, him, not anything to do with fuel caps or distributor pumps."

Gabriella sighed. "For the last time it's a fuel pump and a distributor cap. How many times do I have to tell you?"

As Sharpay proceeded to rant about why she didn't need to know about cars considering she had a mechanic for a best friend, Gabriella couldn't help but smile. They'd probably had the exact same conversation, in the exact same seats, with the exact same drinks a zillion times. Perhaps it was a little too repetitious and a lot of people would grow bored of it. But to Gabriella and Sharpay, it reminded them exactly why they had become friends in the first place. They were at sixth form together and despite Gabriella not quite being old enough to drive, she had spotted Sharpay peering unsurely into the smoking engine of her pink convertible and had approached her. Taking a quick look, Gabriella had burst out laughing. "You think your car would start with that rotting fuel pump? And don't even get me started on your distributor cap." Those were her exact words before she'd proceeded to phone her dad, asking him for replacements for Sharpay's engine. Ever since that day, Sharpay had feigned naivety where cars were concerned.

Their tastes in coffee reflected who they were. A month after they had met, whilst witnessing their ever-growing friendship (which inevitably turned into sisterhood), Sharpay had laughingly, and quite accurately, called them chocolate and vanilla. While Gabriella had her raven curls, chocolate eyes and naturally darkly tanned skin, Sharpay had always had her mass of blonde curls and her pale skin which had the inability to tan, only the ability to burn. And still, their differences never quite stopped. They always found new ways to differ. The only thing they could really agree on was that they loved each other like sisters should.

"...so, you see, why would I need to know about the disgusting ins and outs of how my car works. When it's broken, I ring you and you wave your magic wand and it's fixed," Sharpay finished as she slid her empty cup away. That's another thing: Sharpay could talk non-stop but she still manage to finish her coffee before Gabriella.

Gabriella quirked an eyebrow as she swirled the last lukewarm remains around her mug. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm not Harry Potter."

"You are of mechanics," Sharpay exclaimed.

Gabriella smiled and downed the last of her coffee. "Anyway, I must go. I don't want to be late and make a bad first impression. She pulled an old, fraying, discoloured bandana from the back pocket of her oil-stained jeans. It was similar to the one that she tied around her left wrist every day. She carefully tied the bandana around her mass of curls so that her hair didn't fall into her eyes. Once she was satisfied with her hair, she hugged Sharpay tightly. "Oh, I love you, Shar."

Sharpay smiled as she pulled back. She held her friend's wrist, the one with the bandana around, reminding Gabriella just why she wore the bandana there in the first place. "You'll do great. I know you will."

Gabriella slid off of the stool she had been perched on and gave Sharpay a reassuring smile. "I know I will. What am I, Zeke?" She called over the counter to Zeke who had just closed the oven door.

He wandered over and grinned at the woman who was like a little sister to him. "You'll do great because you're a kickass mechanic."

Gabriella nodded and bent down to pick her bag up. "Exactly. I was taught by the best, you know. But, despite my awesomeness as a mechanic, he thinks I'm a guy. It's hard to be a woman in this industry. Anyway, see you guys later."

She headed out of Zeke's cafe, towards Huntriss Row. It was a side street off the main shopping precinct, not varying much from Lloyd's TSB bank, McDonalds and a backstreet jeweller who sold rings at the prices of Tiffany's where Sharpay shopped. Gabriella paused by the window and unconsciously gripped the strap of her bag tighter as she surveyed the sparkling diamonds in the window. It seemed silly to look in the window, considering how she could never afford them with her erratic salary. But still, she could imagine owning one. She frowned as she looked down at her hands and realised how ugly jewellery would look there. She'd always been a nail biter and she could never quite scrub the oil stains from her skin. She looked back to the window and sighed. Never mind.

She turned away before the owner could send her away for being unworthy and headed towards the small garage at the end of the street. She'd never been there before, only to drop her application off, but everything seemed to be in order. It had the ramps to lift the cars on, a good supply of tools on some shelves, and about six cars parked outside. They were either employees or customers. And if they were all customers, all Gabriella could think was Good on ya! She knew how hard it was for backstreet garages to be successful.

She crossed the street and stood in the entrance, staring at the Renault Cleo with an M registration number that was in the middle of the workshop. The bonnet was open and she stepped closer. One glance at the engine, and she knew it needed the fan replacing and the oil pan left a lot to be desired, too. She looked around at the place and finally realised how deserted it was. There wasn't anybody around. At all.

"Hello?" she called out unsurely.

"Hello," a voice greeted as a guy stood up behind the car.

Gabriella held her hand to her heart. "Oh my god. Don't freaking do that."

"Sorry, I didn't hear you come in." He held up a rather scary hardback maths textbook. "I was studying."

Gabriella frowned. "Shouldn't you be working?"

The guy shrugged. "My dad prefers me to actually get my degree than help out here. I'm just watching the place for him while he went to the call out he just had."

Gabriella nodded slowly. "So your dad owns this place?"

The guy nodded as he threw the textbook carelessly onto a nearby table that was cluttered with different tools, oil stained rags and assorted drinks cans and mugs. He wandered around to Gabriella. "Yeah. He'll be back soon. Can I help? I'm Andy Bolton."

She looked him up and down. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a smile which hinted that he had a little too much experience with girls. A know-it-all, probably. A sexist, obviously. And his father was probably worse. It was extremely likely that Mr Bolton would say flat out, 'no' without having her perform any kind of mechanical work whatsoever, but if she did get the job, it would probably be her idea of hell. For years, she'd been quite happy working alongside her father, but bankruptcy had forced her to work at a nearby Ford garage. But, the sexist jokes weren't just insulting, they were also hurtful from some of the guys that worked there. So, this was the next best thing. And she was no expert, but she was willing to bet that being insulted was easier from two guys than from twenty.

"Well, I suppose anyone's better than nothing," she muttered. "I'm Gabriella Montez. I'm here for the interview."

Andy frowned. "For the new mechanic? Really? You?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Oh my god. Why is everyone so prejudice about women being mechanics? It's not that big of a deal. I suppose I should've guessed you'd be the same. Your dad called me Mr Montez on the message he left at me."

Andy shrugged. "You only put G. Montez on your application."

"Do I have to elaborate as to why?" she muttered. "Look, when will your dad be back?"

Andy turned to look at the clock hanging on the wall and shrugged. "Maybe ten minutes? You can help me with maths, if you'd like, while we wait. Don't suppose you know anything about logarithms, do you?"

"I wrote my dissertation on logarithms," she exclaimed.

"Really? Maths degree?" he asked dubiously.

Gabriella laughed. "Request of my father. He knew how much being a mechanic meant to me but he wanted me to have something to fall back on. He didn't care what I was qualified to do, as long as I had a plan B."

"Ah. I get it," he murmured. "You know, girls who like maths really turn me on."

Gabriella slowly shook her head. "Guys with big egos turn me off." She stepped around him and dropped her bag near the table where his maths book was. "So, this is all your dad's?"

Andy followed her and shrugged. "Yeah. He started it when he was about twenty five, I think."

Gabriella turned to him. "Well, not the greatest of first impressions so far but I admire a man's ability to invest well and your father obviously did."

Andy nodded slowly. "Yeah. He did."

Gabriella was silent as she inspected (with secret approval) the tools that scattered the workshop. Andy had given her the impression of a flirtatious young guy who didn't appreciate women who either rejected him or went for a job that was deemed 'masculine'. But now, his deafening silence indicated that he was wiser than his years. For one reason or another, he'd maybe seen a little too much of life's harshness and the playboy who she'd just encountered was probably the result.

A shrill ring pierced the silence and she patted her jean pockets before rushing to her discarded bag. "Mierda!" (A/N: Shit) She recognised that tone. It was different to the others. This one only rang every so often. And when it did, her heart raced, her breath caught in her throat, and she ultimately panicked. She panicked that she might not reach the phone in time and the phone would stop ringing.

"Hey, are you okay?" Andy asked worriedly as Gabriella dropped to her knees and began frantically emptying her bag in search of her phone.

"I'm fine," she muttered as she rummaged through the mass of papers, compact hairbrush slash mirror, the book that she was currently ploughing through, the tangle of earphones that were coiled around her bruised and battered, rather bulky iPod, until she came across her scratched mobile phone. It was vibrating annoyingly against the concrete floor, giving the appearance that even her phone, ultimately her lifeline, joined in her panic for her to answer the call.

"I've got to take this," she said hurriedly as she ran outside, bumping into someone in her haste for privacy.