A genuine thank you to LA AngelxZV for suggesting I write more one shots. I think I'll take your advice (:

Dear Troy,

Happy Birthday. I have wanted to tell you this for the past six years. I have wanted to come up to you, just like everyone else, and offer warm wishes on your special day. On this day (among others) I have wanted to be like one of your many admirers. Your beautiful admirers with blonde hair and blue eyes and bold kisses. I've always dreamed of coming up to you, saying "Happy Birthday, Troy" with no inhibitions. It's silly isn't it? It's just three words. I've wanted to say them to you for so long, but I never have. I've never found the courage…until today, and I guess I haven't really found the courage after all. I mean, this is a letter. I still haven't approached you, but this is a start I'm proud of.

I know it isn't really your birthday. I missed it by quite a few months, but I still wanted to say it. This is my last chance. We're graduating in less than two months, and in less than five months I will be in California. I had to tell you happy birthday now…before I lost the nerve. I don't want to start my new life with regrets, with what ifs. I've had enough what ifs. I refuse to start it all over being disappointed in myself for creating one more regret. There are so many things I've missed out on. Did you know I've never been to a party? I proper party, I mean. Sure I've been to a birthday party, but never an actual party. But of course you already knew that. I'm me, after all. I'm the girl you find in the library, or in the chemistry lab. I've also missed out on all the school plays. So many times I've yearned to be on stage, the center of attention. I would probably faint if I were to be on stage, but I've always wanted to try out for a school play. I'm tired of missing out on everything. Always missing out creates this big hole that you sort of sink into without even noticing. It's not until you're at the bottom, and climbing out looks impossible, that you realize it's all your own fault to begin with. Well, no more missing out. I won't pass up something as important as saying happy birthday to THE Troy Bolton. I must sound so crazy, right? You don't even know me. Then again, I'm sure I'm not the first girl to write you a letter of infatuation.

Speaking of this letter, do you have any idea how much courage it has evoked? I told my mother the other day that I was afraid of going to Stanford. I even cried. She asked me what happened to her fearless little four-year old. It was a good question. I think the fearless little girl got buried beneath all of the cruelty and uncertainty of the world. But I think it's about time for her to become unearthed. I miss her. I guess her first reappearance is manifesting itself in the form of this letter. I'm not afraid of what you will think when you read this, Troy. It's just so important that I know that I can be brave. I can give the most popular guy in school a letter that holds a little bit of my heart, even though it is very likely that it will not be handled with care. I'm not afraid of hurting any more. I've been so scared of being rejected and mistreated that I closed myself off. In doing so, the exact thing I didn't want to happen happened. So I'm not worried about you and your friends taunting me at school on Monday. I don't care that girls will laugh at me for thinking that you would actually be interested in what I have to say. All I care about is the fact that I told you happy birthday, Troy. And I meant it from the bottom of my heart.

Forever,

Gabriella Montez

Dear Gabriella,

Thank you for the birthday wishes. They mean more to me than you know. Your bravery impresses me. You're braver than me, you know. I've wanted to talk to you for just as long as you've wanted to tell me happy birthday. But I was just going to live with the what if. I was actually going to spend the rest of my life thinking about you and never knowing. How cowardly is that? I've stared at the back of your head in many a class, Gabriella Montez. You've been on my mind for a long time. I remember seeing you once in eighth grade. You had new braces and it was picture day. You were afraid to smile, but when you did I thought you were the most beautiful girl in school. I still think so, and I always have.

I know who you are, Gabriella. You are the little girl with pink hair ribbons and a mean left hook. Do you remember that? You punched me in second grade because I made a kindergartener give me his swing, and he cried. Chad laughed at me because I got beat up by a girl. Most guys would be pissed because of that, but I wasn't. As far as I was concerned, you were the coolest girl ever.

You are also the sweet, caring seventh grade girl I saw crying. You're the girl who won the state spelling bee, but didn't go to the regional competition because it was on the one year anniversary of your dad's death. I remember how your eyes filled with tears during the competition because you already knew what day the regional competition was scheduled for. Everyone else thought you were crying because you were happy you won, but I knew you weren't. My parents took me to the funeral the year before. You had the same look on your face there that you had on stage that day.

Gabriella, you are the beautiful senior I give daffodils to every year for your birthday. I've had the secretary call you to the main office each year since we were freshmen so that you could get the daffodils I leave for you. Every year I try to wait around out of sight just to see that look you get on your face. I love seeing you blush as you thank the secretary and ask her if she knows who left you the flowers. I'm lucky that she is a romantic…otherwise, you would know it was me by now.

I know who you are, and I'm so glad you aren't one of the blonde-haired, blue eyed, bold kissing admirers that I have. You are so much more to me. Take comfort in the fact that the piece of yourself that you so courageously shared with me will be handled with the utmost love and care. And now you have a piece of me, Gabriella.

You said there were three words you'd wanted to say to me for so long, Gabriella. They were "Happy Birthday, Troy." There are seven words I've wanted to say to you, Gabriella. Words that are very important to me. They should be said in person, though.

Always,

Troy

P.S. Just so you know, no other girl has ever written me a letter, and NO ONE is going to taunt you.

Gabriella's hands were shaking. Hell, her whole body was shaking. Troy had written her back yesterday, but she hadn't found the note until the end of the day. She was sort of thankful for that, otherwise it would have been a miracle for her to make it throughout the whole school day. She had had an entire night to process it, but she was still more scared than she had ever been. Gabriella had laid awake nearly all night reading and rereading Troy's letter. Did he really mean it all? She had been elated. It was nothing she was expecting. Troy Bolton. THE TROY BOLTON liked her. He knew her. He knew about her. It amazed her, really. He had spent as many years analyzing her as she had analyzing him. Other people knew her dad was dead, but he knew. He was the only person, besides her mother, who understood the seventh grade spelling bee. He remembered her from elementary school and middle school. He thought she was beautiful. No one had ever called her beautiful, and he knew that daffodils were her favorite flowers. He even got her some every year. She meant something to him when to everyone else she was invisible.

XXX

Gabriella couldn't decide if she wanted to approach Troy or not. On the one hand, he had made it very clear that she was important to him, and that they had mutual feelings for each other. On the other hand, he was Troy Bolton. It was a scary prospect. What was she supposed to do? Did she just walk up to him? Would that be okay, or would he want to be seen with her somewhere more private?

She had gotten to school about twenty minutes early and decided not to see Troy. She had actually decided to avoid him at all costs. Hopefully today would go by normally: she would be largely ignored and Troy wouldn't see her. That hope was dashed when she saw taped to her locker a single yellow daffodil. Usually, there was a bouquet waiting for her in the main office, but that was only on her birthday. She remembered the first time she had gotten them.

"Mrs. Darbus," the classroom intercom sounded, "could you please send Miss Montez to the main office?"

Everyone oohed and aahed like they used to in elementary school, and Gabriella blushed.

Gabriella didn't know why she was being called to the main office. She didn't drive to school yet, so she knew she wasn't parked illegally, and she was never late to class. Her mom hadn't mentioned any dentist or doctor's appointment.

"Miss Montez," the secretary, Mrs. Matthews, greeted, "it looks like someone has left you quite a bouquet."

Gabriella looked at the beautiful yellow blossoms in a vase on the front desk, "A…are you sure they're for me?" she bit her inferior lip, "I mean I haven't done anything to deserve them."

Mrs. Matthews walked over to the flowers and plucked the tag from them before approaching Gabriella. She smiled gently, "You deserve these flowers for just being you, sweetie. Every girl deserves flowers, especially on her birthday."

It was her birthday. She had almost forgotten. Her mother wasn't home, and Gabriella hadn't checked her phone for any missed calls or text messages.

Mrs. Matthews glanced at the tag in her hand before handing it to Gabriella, "I'm sure they're for you, Gabriella."

Gabriella looked at the writing on the little piece of paper: To someone who has captured my heart. Happy Birthday, Gabriella. She blushed and looked up at Mrs. Matthews, "Someone likes me? This isn't a joke."

"I don't think it's a joke, sweetie. I think that whoever got these flowers for you is completely smitten."

"Do…do you, uhh, know who they are from?"

Mrs. Matthews simply shook her head solemnly, "Afraid not."

Gabriella nodded before offering a soft thank you and exiting with her flowers.

They wouldn't fit in her locker. She had tried…hard. She had rearranged all of her belongings three times in an attempt to fit the flowers into her locker without smooshing them. It was all to no avail. Nervously, she walked into Mrs. Darbus's room with them. Everyone stared.

"Mrs. Darbus," Gabriella began quietly, "I…I got flowers for my birthday, but, uhm, but they don't fit in my locker. Can I, I mean, is it okay if…would you mind if I left them in her until school is over?"

"Very well, Miss Montez. No need to stutter. Sit them down and find your seat."

"Who are the flowers from?" A brunette whose name Gabriella couldn't remember asked from across the walkway.

Gabriella turned to respond to her, "I…I don't know." She brushed a curl out of her face and looked away from the girl.

"How do you not know?" Another girl asked. She was rude about it, though. "Are they from your grandma? She's probably the only one who would send you flowers anyway," she added under her breath.

"My grandmother didn't send them."

"Then, let's see who did," Amy stood and walked over to Gabriella's bouquet. She plucked the tag rather dramatically, "To someone who has captured my heart," she read in a faux nasally voice, "Happy Birthday, Gabriella."

Gabriella's face was on fire, but before anyone could cause more embarrassment, Troy Bolton walked through the door.

"Sorry, I'm late, Mrs. D. My dad had me help clean up the gym from our before school practice."

Looking back, and after reading Troy's letter, she knew now that he hadn't been cleaning. He had been somewhere close to the main office, watching her fall all over herself at the prospect of a secret admirer.

As she brought the single daffodil to her nose, she knew that today would not be like every other day. She was going to talk to Troy Bolton.

XXX

The cafeteria buzzed with more people than she thought had ever been in there in one instance. They were all looking at her too. She could feel it, and it didn't feel good. She bit the corner of her lip and tried to control the blushing of her cheeks as she approached Troy's lunch table. She could hear him laughing at something Chad was saying. She liked the sound of his laughter. She couldn't think of anything about him that she didn't like, really. He was perfect. That was what made it so crazy. She heard Troy laugh again, but she couldn't see him. Girls in cheerleading outfits and boys with basketballs blocked her view of the one person she was looking for.

"Excuse me," the girl standing in her way didn't even hear her, "excuse me." She tried again.

"What?" The girl's tone caught Gabriella off guard. She sounded impatient and rude.

Gabriella fumbled for words. She hadn't expected the girl to speak. She had expected her to step to the side, "Umm, no, umm I just meant that I need to get by."

Thankfully, she stepped aside – but just barely. Gabriella now stood staring at Troy. His eyes were large, and very obviously stunned. He wasn't expecting her. Oh god. Gabriella began to inwardly panic, and the blush of her face deepened. She was so stupid…so, so stupid. He hadn't really wanted to see her. Maybe he liked her, but he couldn't let his friends see that she meant something to him.

Tears were threatening to fall, "Happy birthday," she whispered, because it was the only thing she could think of.

A boy next to Troy with dark hair laughed easily, "It isn't his birthday. Is it, Troy?"

Troy stood, ignoring his friend and nearly leaping to her. The stunned expression slowly fading to one of sheer joy. He took her hand in his and smiled, bringing her closer to himself, "Thanks." He brushed a piece of hair out of her embarrassed face, "I'm so glad to see you, Gabriella."

"Really?" She was confused.

"Of course I am," He pulled her so close that their bodies were touching, "I've been waiting to hold you in my arms for SO long. Remember how I told you that I had three words I needed to tell you too?"

She nodded, unable to think because of their close proximity.

Troy's arms were wrapped around her waist, and her hands were placed lightly upon his chest, "I think I'm in love with you." He smiled. "Pretty sure I have been since second grade. You left quite an impression," he joked, touching his jaw where he remembered her punching him.

"I…how…how did you know I like daffodils?" Her brain wasn't willing to respond to his words.

Troy laughed softly, oblivious to everyone but the pretty girl in his arms, "We're neighbors," his hand left her waist to push more of her unruly curls out of her face. Her hair was soft in his hand and he reveled in the feeling, "I was shooting hoops one day, and you and your mom were planting them. You said they were beautiful and you loved them. After that, I decided I'd give you something you loved every year."

"I would have preferred having you to having flowers," she blushed at the admittance, "but thank you. I have loved them every year."

"Troy," Gabriella recognized the voice of the girl from earlier, "what are you doing?"

Troy let go of Gabriella, leaving her with a very empty feeling, to turn towards the girl. He smiled and grabbed Gabriella's hand, pulling her close, "Oh, sorry. This is Gabriella," he was beaming as he held Gabriella's hand. He didn't seem to notice the strange looks everyone was shooting him, "Have you ever met her?" He flashed Gabriella a brilliant smile before wrapping her in his arms and kissing her forehead.

Gabriella laced her fingers with Troy's. As she did so he brought her hand to his mouth, kissing it. She watched with great interest and affection, unaware of these new feelings. He loved her.