ONE MOMENT IN TIME
AN – My muse is MIA and I wanted to write something to try and kick start it. This is the result. If you read my other works, I promise they haven't been abandoned. Life is just crazy and my muse has been on a vacation.
Thanks to Lanie for pre-reading this for me xx
"Passengers seated rows 1 - 15 are now invited to board the aircraft."
A Latina beauty in her mid twenties glanced down at her boarding pass, listing that Gabriella Montez has been allocated seat 8C. She didn't move from her position at the departure gate, instead remaining focused upon her novel – a ratty copy of P.S. I Love You by Cecelia Ahern which she'd devoured numerous times in recent years. When she travelled, she always took two books with her – one which was new, and one which was an old favourite – just in case the new book didn't pique her interest, she was guaranteed of having something tried and true within her grasp.
Only once there were a handful of passengers loitering in the departure lounge did she rise to her feet. There was no point in rushing to board the aircraft – it would only lead to an additional twenty minutes sitting as they waited for the inevitable stragglers who would be being called over the public announcement system in the airport terminal whilst those with the ability to arrive on time and not be tardy suffered in the overcrowded cabin.
She barely even glanced at the plastic blonde Barbie who was checking her boarding pass. She was two rows away from her destination when she wound up stuck behind a couple of girls who were arguing about their carry-on luggage in the middle of the aisle. She repositioned her laptop case over her shoulder and sighed, waiting patiently.
"Just put it in the overhead locker, Kitty!" a short, brunette girl said impatiently. "All we're going to do is sleep."
"I might not sleep straight away though, I had Starbucks on the way to the airport!"
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally was able to make her way through to seat 8C, set to be her home for the next almost six hours. A middle aged couple was in seats 8A and 8B. She winced immediately upon seeing them – the woman, on the window seat, was fishing out earplugs and face masks from her purse for both of them. Gabriella sighed. She'd been pleased at being allocated an aisle seat because she found it impossible to sleep on planes and so she enjoyed the freedom to come and go from the bathroom or to walk about the cabin as she pleased; and also to retrieve things from her laptop case which she would stow in the overhead locker. This was especially important during an overnight flight like that which she was on – departing San Francisco at 11pm and arriving in New York City early in the morning local time.
Gabriella was well versed in travelling, she'd spent a lot of her teenage years travelling around and moving around the country. And so she was quick to have her book, magazine, gum and iPod in the seat pocket, her laptop case stowed above, her handbag pushed beneath the seat in front of her, and her seatbelt tight and low on her waist. She plucked the earphones from her iPod and connected them to the in-flight radio system, finding the best of the crappy stations and adjusting the volume to her liking.
Gabriella's music was interrupted when the air hostess began to drone over the public announcement system, welcoming her on board the JetBlue service.
"Today I'm joined by Patricia and Bartholomew..." Gabriella turned down the volume and flicked open her in-flight magazine. She was very well aware of how things would run – they'd have a quick service run with just drinks and snacks available for purchase, then the cabin lights would be dimmed and toward the end of the flight they'd do a service run with breakfast items available for purchase. Only when the safety demonstration was beginning did Gabriella begin to pay attention – she knew it back to front, she could probably give the demonstration herself, but safety was no laughing matter. And so as the flight attendants took up their stations, Gabriella placed the magazine back into the seat pocket and looked up.
At which point, her eyes widened and a coughing, hacking sound emanated from her throat.
Bartholomew was not a Bartholomew – unless she'd dated a guy for two years who'd had an identical twin that she didn't know of. Or, perhaps this was simply a carbon copy of a man she knew back to front and inside out, they do say that everyone has someone who looks exactly like them in the world. Certainly, he'd changed in the years since she'd seen him – the hair cut was the most prominent alteration, along with beefing up even more than he had in the last year of high school. But even eight rows away from where he stood by Row 1; she knew those eyes and those lips and the mole on his cheek and the precise shape of his ears. The name tag on his bright blue shirt which read Bartholomew meant nothing.
Eight rows away from her stood none other than Troy Bolton.
He didn't appear to be bored, nor did he didn't give off a vibe of 'I've given this safety demonstration so many times that I dream it in my sleep.' Instead he appeared bright and welcoming – and no doubt engaging the attraction of every female and some of the men on board the plane as well.
A part of her wanted to hide, a part of her dared not look at him. But the larger part of her – the part that was suddenly having flashbacks and feeling his fingers on her soft skin, and being thrust back into the world of East High and the rooftop garden and summer jobs and sneaking up into Troy's treehouse where he had candles and a sleeping bag stored in the corner – simply couldn't look away. She hadn't seen this man in years – five years, to be precise – and rather than wanting to run in the opposite direction, she wanted to unbuckle her seatbelt and thrust herself into his arms.
But she didn't do that. Instead she remained rooted in place, hands clamped on the arms of the chairs, gazing at him with a mixture of shock and adoration and attraction and fear. His grin was somewhat cheeky as he pointed to the safety card that was in the seat pockets, pointed to the emergency exits in the front and middle of the aircraft, and indicated the lights on the floor that would guide the way should visibility be limited in the cabin. The oxygen mask appeared next, he demonstrated where it would appear from – and as his eyes drifted throughout the cabin, making eye contact with the various JetBlue patrons – his eyes locked on hers.
And he dropped the oxygen mask on the head of the passenger in 1D.
Gazes tore away, Gabriella now fixated on the upright tray table in front of her. She didn't see him apologising or attempting to recover from his bumble, she didn't observe his eyes flickering back in her direction, as though needing to confirm that he had seen what he thought he'd seen In fact she didn't see a single moment of the rest of the safety demonstration – if her life jacket should be required, she could only hope that she could work out where the whistle and light were.
Gabriella's observations of the way flight attendants operated had led her to deduce that the one closest to you during the safety demonstration would be more directly in charge of you throughout the flight – however Bartholomew/Troy appeared to have swapped with Barbie, because it was she who came along and did the final check that everything was stowed away correctly with window shades raised, tray tables up and so on. Gabriella remained stoic during take-off, the last thing she was thinking about now was getting to sleep, or being able to use her netbook as she pleased. Her thoughts were now completely overtaken by him – by Troy.
The service run began and Gabriella managed to look up, assaulted by the view of Troy and Barbie making their way up the aisle. He was closest to her, assuming the walking backwards stance. She was human and she couldn't help but observe the snug fit of his slacks to his backside – an ass she knew almost as well as the rest of him. However as the cart drew closer, she felt nerves bubbling up inside. How could they avoid some sort of confrontation? And it wasn't exactly the ideal scenario.
Hey Gabi, nice seeing you again after we broke up when you wouldn't accept my engagement ring. Would you like a nightcap, or perhaps some sour milk?
She focused intently on her magazine, not taking in any of the words, and was jolted by the sound of his voice. "Any beverages or snacks this evening?"
He was cool, calm, collected – aloof, even. The man to Gabriella's left ordered two glasses of red wine for he and his wife, making a comment about needing a nightcap. The sound of Troy's light, genuine laughter would've been a wonderful sound – if it weren't for his blatant ignorance of her presence.
"And yourself?" he said, looking directly at her.
She stared at him – there was no faraway gaze like earlier. It was a blatant stare – a stare of disbelief. His eyes didn't even betray the acknowledgement that he realised who she was – she'd grown up but not that much; and his initial recognition during the safety demonstration had been unmistakable.
She couldn't bring herself to speak, to respond to his cold question.
In one brief moment, his eyes clouded, his lips tightened, and despite seeing the pain in his expression, Gabriella felt relieved. She felt relieved because the idea that she could share herself so intimately with someone and they show not a single emotion at seeing her – it was too much to bare.
It was only one brief moment of insight into the depths of his reaction though, because he tore his vision away from her, and the cart moved to the next set of customers.
Gabriella was bored and she was emotional and she was tired – but utterly incapable of sleeping. She honestly tried, but her mind was moving at a million miles an hour. She attempted to use the periodic table or numbers divisible by pi to at least distract her brain from being overwhelmed with memories of Troy – but such trickery was not being successful. She'd pulled down her netbook while her seatmates had finished their drinks but shortly after they settled down for the night, at which point Gabriella felt guilty for the tap-tap noises of her fingers over the keyboard, and so she stowed the computer away. She attempted to read in the dimmed light but it was blurring her vision; however she didn't want to turn the overhead light on – there were kids sitting across from her who she didn't want to risk waking because God knows what havoc that could wreak on the aircraft.
She'd never seen Troy return from the back of the plane after beverage service – it had been Barbie who'd come along with the garbage trolley looking for anything to collect. And so with a hint of trepidation in her step, she slid her feet back into her black flats, picked up P.S. I Love You (the familiarity was appealing in that moment) and eased her way into the aisle and toward the bathrooms at the front of the plane. She slipped into one of the cubicles and pulled down the toilet seat.
In the sanctuary of the lavatory cubicle, everything was simple.
Until it all came crashing down.
"Um, is somebody in there?" a harsh whisper asked from outside.
But it wasn't just any whisper.
It was him.
She froze, her book crashed to the floor, officially putting a stop to any hope that she could just remain quiet and he'd disappear. However she did remain stationary for another minute, attempting to make her brain work, to decide what she could say to him. Finally, she took a breath, picked up her novel, and opened the door.
He blinked, taking a moment to take in the scenario – that his ex-girlfriend who he hadn't conversed with in years and had blatantly ignored earlier was in front of him having been hiding in a bathroom with a book at 2am.
"Um, we were wondering if whoever was in here had drowned or something," he said quietly.
She shook her head. "Um, no I just... wanted to read without disturbing people with my light."
"You aren't going to sleep?"
She shook her head. "I don't sleep on planes." Troy knew this – and she felt ridiculous having to remind him. "Are we actually doing this?" she whispered.
"Doing what?"
"Pretending... pretending like you're just 'Bartholomew' and I'm some chick sitting in 8C?"
"Well right now you're some chick standing in the toilet. For the record, I forgot my nametag. This was the one they gave me."
She quirked an eyebrow. "And the standby nametag they have is Bartholomew? And not Tim or James or even Bob?"
"I think it's meant to be punishment for forgetting my name tag."
She smiled and laughed, a sense of comfort washing over her at the recall of his dry, witty sense of humour – but then felt herself deflate at the recall of his blatant ignorance.
"Why did you pretend you didn't know me?" Gabriella enquired softly. "You looked at me like I was a stranger."
The conversation was being conducted in whispers so as not to disturb other passengers. Somehow the harshness of the whispers added to the intensity of the encounter.
Troy swallowed. "In some ways you are like a stranger," he remarked.
She gave him a look. A look that he knew all too well. The look where she was calling him out on avoiding the true question.
"I didn't know what to say," he said honestly. "I've thought about this day... the day that we'd somehow cross paths. I didn't know if it would be at a wedding, or a reunion, or just randomly one day. But I'd thought about all the things I wanted to say to you about how we left things and of course when it finally happened it wasn't exactly a scenario where I could say any of those things. And so I panicked. Not my finest hour but..."
"I can't say I would've done much better. I was a ball of nerves," she admitted.
The familiar soft 'ding' sound of a passenger seeking assistance sounded, and Troy glanced up in irritation. He then looked back at Gabriella, who was still standing in the lavatory, clutching to her novel. "Um, can you go back to your seat? I um... I might be able to help you out with something if you do."
Gabriella looked temporarily confused, but the look of persuasion on Troy's face was enough for her to obey and head back to her seat as he went off to see what the patron needed – glancing back, she could see they'd requested a drink, Troy reappearing a moment later with a bottle of water for the woman. In a sudden whim, Gabriella reached above her head, pressing the call button on the ceiling beside the light. She watched as Troy whipped around, following the light, an amused smirk on his face as he arrived.
"Wow, I wish I'd had one of these when we were going out. Press a button and he appears."
"You had one. It was called your cell phone and a text message," he pointed out with a smirk. He then gestured to her purse on the ground. "Get your stuff and come with me."
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Huh?"
"Seriously. Get all of it. Don't leave anything behind."
Gabriella was dubious, however no matter what had happened between her and Troy she trusted him implicitly and there was something about a man in uniform (even a flight attendant uniform) directing her which immediately caused her to gather her things and follow his instruction. She was led down the back of the plane, to the final two rows – which were all empty.
"Flight wasn't full," he explained simply, and gestured. "If you want to move back here... at least you can use your computer and light without guilty conscience."
She could have hugged him. Instead she settled for putting her things down into the aisle seat, squeezing his arm, and with a great volume of gratitude in her tone, she said, "Thank you. Seriously."
"Not a problem. We were going to offer people reallocations to spread them out earlier but just didn't get around to doing it, everyone was settling in pretty early and we didn't want to cause disruption."
He watched as she set herself up in the back corner with her light on and netbook open. "This is heaven," she sighed. "My own little sanctuary."
He revelled in the almost childlike pleasure she took from her new seating arrangement – Gabriella, at heart, was a simple girl who was able to experience enjoyment in the little things that most people took for granted – one of the things he'd loved so much about her. "I'd better get back to work..."
She nodded. "Of course." She hesitated, before saying in parting, "Troy?"
"Yeah?"
"When you do the morning breakfast service in a couple of hours, don't ignore me."
Troy grinned and nodded. "Promise."
"Gabriella? Gabi? Gabi?"
A groan emitted from Gabriella's lips as she felt a hand gently shaking her arm. Bleary eyed and dazed, her eyes popped open, seeing the orange sun of sunrise streaming in through the bottom half of her window – the shade was half down - and a concerned looking Troy looking over her.
"What..."
"You fell asleep," he said with a small smile. "We're preparing for landing."
She put the pieces together, abruptly putting the netbook which she'd put sleepily onto the chair beside her back into its carry case. Troy held his hand out, prompting her to hand the bag over so he could put it up top for her. She was familiar with the procedure – taking just moments to pull her chair into upright position, raise her window shade and make sure her buckle was fastened.
"So you ignored me though breakfast service?" she joked with a teasing smile. "You promised you wouldn't."
"You looked peaceful. I didn't want to wake you," he said honestly. "Not when you'd struggled to fall asleep to begin with."
The remaining half hour of the flight was a blur, in her barely awake state Gabriella munched on a granola bar she'd stowed in her bag, gulped down some water and freshened her breath with some mints. The landing was smooth and uneventful, bar a little turbulence as they'd broke through some clouds.
The main disadvantage to her new seating arrangement was that now that they were disembarking, she would be one of the final people to leave, as they were disembarking only from the front of the plane and she was at the very back. She took her time gathering her things and reorganising her iTouch, book, magazine, gum and other items into her back. She slipped her Blackberry into her jeans pocket, ready to turn on once they were inside the terminal. A few people had remained in their seats, waiting until the masses had gotten off before rising and attempting to make their way out, so Gabriella wasn't the very last passenger off the plane. As she approached the front, Troy and Barbie were standing by the doorway, farewelling passengers. Glancing behind her, she could see a family with three kids gathering the kids backpacks and getting them ready; so no one was coming up right behind her.
She paused in front of Troy, his bright blue eyes boring into her. She ignored Barbie who was looking backwards and forwards between them suspiciously.
"Um... thank you," she said simply.
"You're welcome," he responded with equal simplicity.
She hesitated. This was the moment that mattered. She didn't know where he lived or anything about how he'd come to be working for JetBlue – what had happened to basketball and theatre she had no idea – or if he had a girlfriend or a wife or a bunch of illegitimate children spread across the globe. All she knew was that she had to decide in that moment where they were to go from here. She could walk away and continue her life as she had been – looking back on Troy as a memory, a memory of an era of her life that didn't quite feel as though it had experienced closure. Closure that perhaps was needed in order to move on with life.
However as quickly as she'd built up her courage to do something, anything, to prolong her encounter with Troy, Barbie was clearing her throat and glancing behind Gabriella at where people were waiting to get through. Gabriella fumbled with her things. "Um, it was nice seeing you," she faltered, smiling at Troy and then muttered a quick thank you at Barbie before disappearing from the aircraft and into the ramp.
One decision made in one moment in time can alter your fate.
Sometimes you regret the decisions you make – sometimes it hits you instantly that you'd made the wrong decision.
Sometimes, the decision that someone else makes will change the fate that you'd determined for yourself.
"Gabriella!" a voice called after her.
She turned around, and among the passengers who were disembarking behind her, the bright blue uniform sprinted toward her. She moved aside, not wanting to block off the walkway yet again. He caught up to her, pausing in front of her, slightly breathless.
"Um... what are you doing now?" he asked.
"Collecting my suitcase from the baggage carousel and going home... why?"
"Um... do you have like, a half hour free after you get your case? Could we... could we get coffee? I've got about an hour free between flights."
She hesitated. "Um..."
"Please."
One pleading look and she knew that there was no way she could possibly say no, there was no way that she could throw away this opportunity. "Yes. Okay that would be... um... nice."
"I'll meet you at your baggage carousel, okay? There's a little coffee kiosk near there."
Which was how half an hour later, Gabriella Montez and Troy Bolton were sitting across from one another at a small table outside of a coffee shop, watching as bustling travellers hurried on by and families and lovers reunited.
The last time they'd had coffee, they were nineteen and in love and deciding to go their separate ways.
Despite the lack of sleep, Gabriella was wide awake. She couldn't help but look at Troy curiously, to admire the handiwork of his haircut and the way his face had developed over the years. He'd thrown a sweatshirt over his bright JetBlue shirt, even the layers couldn't hide his buffness.
"You said you'd keep in touch," Troy said quietly.
Gabriella swallowed. "I guess... I guess I figured that you were the one who had the right to be upset and so when you were less upset... you would give me a call..."
Troy shook his head. "And I figured that since I was the one who'd put myself out there, that it was your turn..."
"It wasn't a never, Troy. It was a not now... it didn't feel like the right time for me."
"Why not?"
"Haven't we been through this?"
"Well it's been quite few years, my mind needs refreshing."
"Okay... you were in New Mexico, I was in Massachusetts, we'd get together every few months in a sleazy hotel room and have sex for two days straight, only stopping to nap and eat. We were talking less and less throughout the school term..."'
"And I loved you more than I ever had."
"You proposed to me! You proposed as a reassurance, trying to make things better, figuring if we were engaged then it would make us stronger."
"Were you unhappy with me?"
"No, I wasn't unhappy. But I wasn't ready to get engaged, not by a long way. We were going through this whole period of change in our lives and getting engaged when we didn't really know the other person... it wasn't going to be right. It wouldn't have worked."
Troy was silent, staring at his paper coffee cup and the contours of the cardboard holder. "You know what the worst thing is?"
She softened. "What?"
"You're right. It... it wasn't the right timing. And I've had to live with that. One decision that I made, and I fucked it up."
Gabriella shook her head. "I'm the one who wanted a break..."
"I don't blame you."
"Well I don't blame you!"
They fell silent, only the sounds of activity around them filling the silence.
"Do you ever wonder... what would've been?" Troy asked quietly, but steadily. He was avoiding looking her in the eye. He felt a hand reach out, the delicate fingers coming to rest over his palm which rested upon the table top.
"Every day."
Troy glanced at his watch. "I have to go soon," he said regretfully, a little desperately. There hadn't been enough time, nowhere near enough time. Years had passed, so much had happened, and seeing her again... it just clarified what he already knew deep down – that things were unfinished.
"Are you flying back to San Francisco?" Gabriella asked.
He nodded. "It's my base. I live in Palo Alto."
Gabriella blinked. "Oh..."
"You live here, in New York City?"
"Um yeah, in Chelsea. But... I'm moving soon. I'm moving to San Francisco, that's why I was out there. I've just gotten a new job..."
He blinked. She was moving to San Francisco. Where he lived.
"Congratulations," he said automatically, on auto-pilot. He glanced at his watch again. He really had to head back. He cleared his throat. "Um..."
"You have to go," she supplied for him.
"Kinda, yeah."
One decision made in one moment in time – and your fate can be altered.
Gabriella pulled out her purse, and fished around inside, producing a business card which scribbled on the back of and then thrust out at him.
"Um... here's my cell phone number. And I'm on Facebook and LinkedIn. If you wanna... keep in touch. And actually keep in touch this time. I'm moving out there in about two weeks. So... if you want to catch up. You can get in touch with me."
She'd made the gesture this time. He was the one who'd put himself out there in the past – and she suddenly felt a sense of understanding of just how vulnerable it can make you feel.
Troy accepted the card. "Sounds great."
It was neither a confirmation nor a denial of her suggestion, and somehow that made her feel uneasy. She had no idea what he'd do with the card, if he'd turn the corner and toss it into the trash can, having moved on with his life and feeling no need to revisit the past. A shake of the hand and a quick, awkward hug later and he'd disappeared, with her card and what felt like her life in his hands.
Gabriella trudged toward the subway station, feeling a surreal mixture of emotion, barely able to decipher one from the other. Everything from love to lust to pain, and she wasn't sure what was current and what was simply a recollection of the past.
And then her phone buzzed with an incoming text message.
Hey this is Troy... so you have my number now. I think I'm in New York overnight next week so maybe we can catch up? I'll let you know closer to the time.
One decision in one moment in time.