Summary:

Gabriella – a girl with a need for dance. Abandoned at the age of 5. Left alone most of her life.

Troy – an Angel, assigned to keep that abandoned dancer out of harms way.

But when Troy falls madly in love with this human young woman, will there be struggle farther along the road?

Author's note:

Eeeep! The extremely long and boring prologue. xD I hope you enjoy anyways! By the way, the song "Guardian Angel" by the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus goes great with this story. (No More Hope part 3 & Can't Escape This part 2 coming soon. :D)

Gabriella was lost.

It was a plain fact, just like George Washington was the first president. You can't deny it – its fact. But the person that the fact is about can and most likely would deny themselves. Just like Gabriella.

She had been abandoned most of her teenage life. After her father died, her mother was a train wreck. She was always drinking, and when she had hangovers she was at her worst. She would give Gabriella furious slaps across her face. Her rings would make cuts on her olive-toned cheek. Gabriella used to trust her mom. Her mom used to be super mom – she would always be there for Gabriella. She used to be able to come home, upset that she got an "A-" on her report, and her mother would be there, arms wide. Gabriella would drop her books and run into the warm arms of her former protector.

Oh, how things change in the blink of an eye.

Gabriella tugged her gray hood over her curly brunette locks, and soon felt rain pelt against her head. She sighed, and cranked some tunes from Breaking Benjamin before pulling her low, baggy sweats higher on her waist. She stepped onto the stairway leading into the same old high school. It was like this everyday for Gabriella, and it got old quickly. She heard some kids snicker her way, and she simply turned the volume up, Diary of Jane blasting in her ears. She shoved open the entrance to East High, and – although inside – let her hoodie remain on her head. The bell rang as soon as she got in, and the hallways cleared. She turned down the volume and stuffed her iPod in her locker, withdrawing a notebook clearly labeled "Spanish" in black sharpie. The hallways were so vacant that the faint flop, flop, flop of her flip-flops were all that could be heard.

Gabriella stared down at her feet, a common sight for her. She usually kept her head down to hide her face from unwanted students. Her feet kept a consistent, rhythmic pattern. Flop, flop. Sway, sway. Flop, flop, floppity flop. Shimmy lower, slide, step forward. Flop, flop, floppity flippity. Two steps forward, twirl twice. Flop, flop, flop, flop, flop, flop, flop, flop. Step, clap, step, clap, step, clap, step, clap. Flop, flop, flop. Shimmy forward, ending pose.

Somewhere along the lines of Gabriella's short dance, she found herself ending with a hand on her hip; shoulders squared, and chin up proudly. Her dance was accompanied by a brief applause from the opposing side of the hall. She looked up, but no one was there. She shrugged it off, thinking she might be hallucinating. She did that often when she got really into a dance. She imagined applause from every direction when she hit the last chord, the last note, the last move. She had a burning passion for dancing, but strived to keep that to herself. She made her way down the hall way to her Spanish, aiming to get there before the late bell rang out.

"Nice dance you've got there," his voice rang out loud and clear, but she wouldn't hear him. Of course she wouldn't hear him. He was a mere invisible Angel, assigned to this beautiful young woman. He managed to keep up with her pace, but she didn't see him. She didn't even know he existed for that matter. She looked directly at him, but all she was seeing was the unattended lockers across the empty hallway. He looked into her eyes. He could see her obviously, but no matter what he attempted, he was like a gust of wind – you will never see it.

Of course, occasionally he was allowed for her to hear him sometimes, kind of like a Jiminy Cricket. He kept this clumsy girl out of harms way at all costs, 24/7. He was assigned to her when she was the tender age of 5 – around the time her father had left. He had held her so many nights when she would sob, but she never felt him. He was always with her, but she never saw him. She was alone in her eyes.

He marveled over her silky, black hair, her chocolate eyes, her perfect smile, and the wonderful curves of her body, the way that you could give her any song, and she could make up a dance to it on the top of her petite head. He loved each and every single aspect about her. Each mood swing, each dazzling smile, each cut that would be placed upon her cheek that would vanish in a couple of hours (thanks to the help of him.)

So, in simpler terms, intern Angel Troy was falling head over heels for human Gabriella.

And that was a horrible thing.