Dabbles with Daddy
There were three rules for Troy Bolton when it came to entering the Montez household and being in relations with Gabriella herself. They had been clearly explained the night of their – so dubbed – 'month-iversary.' Breaking the rules resulted in consequences that a teenaged boy did not care for and was harshly advised against.
Number one was that he should never, ever, feel it necessary to be alone in a room with Gabriella if the doors are closed and/or locked. Any urge that he felt to find himself in that position was to be thoroughly ignored and repressed unless he wished all future meetings to be held in the living room on separate couches with parental supervision.
Number two was that he should never, ever, consider himself to be considered anything less than family. Any attempt to ask before taking another serving of quesadilla would be considered invalid and would result in the loss of ice cream to accompany any brownie dessert.
Number three was that homework was to be completed by both parties, both himself and Gabriella, before anyone was to be scaling trees in backyards or picking locks on balcony doors. Disregard for the rule ended in installation of a security system to which neither Troy nor Gabriella would have the disarming code.
A few times, he'd broken number two and gotten caught. But he always sweet-talked his way to the ice cream. Once or twice he might have broken number one, but it was usually because he'd broken number three at a time when Gabriella's bedroom door had not been open. Fortunately, he was well versed in the art of sneaking and had never been caught.
Number four was one that he never broke. It was an unspoken rule that had never been firmly stated or enforced with harsh punishment. He had created the rule himself as a protection mechanism, shielding her from hurt that he assumed would come with breaking the rule. Rule number four was that he was never, ever, to mention Joseph Montez in the presence of the residents of the Montez household. The whereabouts of Gabriella's father were unknown to him, and were to remain so until he was told.
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"I refuse to get into that car –"
"Truck, thank you very much."
"– truck, Troy Bolton!" He sighed, glancing out the open window on the passenger side of the cab, and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. The brunette was clutching a light coat to her chest as she stared at him incredulously, brushing the blowing strands of hair away from her face. "It's a death trap, and," she slapped a hand against the window frame and stuck her head inside, "I bet these airbags don't even work anymore." Troy rolled his eyes and reached out to cup his girlfriend's cheek.
"Don't pull that with me, Troy Bolton," she scolded him. "Just because you touch my face and make puppy-dog eyes doesn't mean that I'm going to completely disregard that fact that the last time I was in this truck, the seatbelts didn't work and I almost died." She reached out a finger to loop around the seatbelt strap and tugged, "Oh, I guess you got them fixed." Gabriella sighed softly and reached through the window to pop open the passenger side door. She pulled away from his hand and yanked the door open, swinging it wildly as she threw her coat onto the seat beside Troy. Placing her bag on the floor, she hopped in and slammed the door shut.
"If I die in this car because of fume intoxication, I will be sure to haunt you as a ghost," she warned seriously, pointing at him. "And I am talking about a seriously vengeful ghost, my friend. A ghost who would have gone on to do great things in the world of science or literature, had her life not been cut short by her boyfriend's compact death-trap of a truck. I'm telling you right now, if I die, there will be severe ghost haunting." Troy chuckled lightly and leaned over in his seat, gently tugging on her elbow so that her body would tilt towards him.
Pressing a tender kiss to her lips, he murmured, "And a very attractive ghost you will be. Hello to you too." She giggled girlishly and returned his greeting, her lip-gloss smearing over his mouth. When she pulled back, she giggled again and wiped his face with her finger before placing another careful kiss on his lips. He scooted his entire body towards hers, tangling one of his hands in her hair and continuing to press kisses to the skin on her jaw line. She smiled shyly against his cheek and her hand gripped on to the material of his shirt.
As his mouth reached her earlobe, she pushed him back. "Alright, Wildcat. I would appreciate not getting the lecture about mysterious bruises on my neck when I get home, especially not today." He groaned playfully and leaned to her again, his lips brushing her jaw. "Troy, believe me. You'll thank me for this later." Troy sighed dramatically and removed his hand from her hair, but not before sneaking one last kiss from her.
"I doubt it," he mumbled, turning the key in the ignition. As he moved to reverse out of his parking spot in the East High parking lot, he put his arm behind Gabriella's headrest and began toying with a small curl of her hair. There was suddenly a blush gracing her cheeks and she glanced out the window bashfully, ducking her head slightly as two sophomore girls pointed towards them.
"Am I getting more embarrassing to you?" he questioned, letting his hand return to the steering wheel as he made a left turn at the corner. "Or are you getting shyer?" She smiled and looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, before moving to answer him. He glanced sideways at her quickly, noticing the out-of-place tightness in her jaw. "This isn't good," he observed softly, turning onto a side road and parking the car. Before he had a chance to ask her what was wrong, she spoke.
"My dad." She said it firmly, and Troy broke eye contact to look down at her embraced hands and laced fingers, slightly nervous about where this conversation was going. Also, he noticed, the box of Kleenex that his mother had thrown in to the truck was now both empty and flattened. Noting his silence, Gabriella encouraged, "You can ask about him, if you want. That way, it would be less awkward than me just spitting it out randomly." Glancing around the car awkwardly once more, Troy raised a hand to tousle his hair.
"I don't want to pry." Gabriella giggled softly and reached over to grab his hand.
"If I'm intending on sharing it with you anyway, Troy, it's not really considered prying." He still looked fairly uncomfortable, so she moved closer and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Alright, I know that we never talked about my dad, and that it's sort of like an unspoken rule in my house that we don't really mention him, but it's not…justified, really. I mean, we do mention him, just not when company is around." Using her free hand, she gently stroked her fingers through his hair.
He raised an eyebrow and glanced up at her fingers as they toyed with his hair. "Alright, I'll play along. What's the deal with your dad?" She smiled and ran her tongue over her bottom lip slowly.
"I don't talk about my dad that much and you probably think that he's dead, or that he's a bastard who left me and my mom, or something like that. But he's not. He's actually just been trying to get transferred here to New Mexico to be with my mom and me." Her words were slightly punctuated by chuckles. "He didn't want to quit his job and start looking for a new one here because he was afraid that he wouldn't find one fast enough, and he wanted to be able to support my mom and me. My parents are kind of freaked about saving for college, you know?" Troy smiled, nodding his head. He was no stranger to parental worries pertaining to college.
"I get it. Parents think of these last few years as crunch time." Gabriella smiled, scooting even closer to Troy's body and moving her arm to wrap around his torso.
"My dad stayed with my grandparents for a little while he was applying for a transfer to New Mexico, and it was just easier for my mom and I to not talk about him in public that much. It's stupid, but it just made is easier for us. We talk to him on the phone all the time and stuff, and we saw him on Christmas when we went to visit my grandparents. He finally got a transfer here to Albuquerque, though." Troy blinked several times as Gabriella stared back at him, her eyes wide with doe-like innocence. Narrowing his eyes at her playfully, he dipped his head to touch his forehead to hers.
"Why," he asked slowly, "do I feel as though you've known about this for quite a while? And why do I feel as though I'm going to have to find some way to impress your father at the barbeque tomorrow so that he is so enthralled by my charm that he forgets to castrate me for contaminating his little princess's innocence?" Gabriella's cheeks flushed rapidly and her eyes darted to glance down at their laced fingers.
"I only told you so late because I didn't want you to spend weeks freaking out, thinking about what it's going to be like and worrying your head off." She nudged her nose against the underside of his chin. "This way you know now, you'll drop me off at home, and he'll catch his first glimpse of a very responsible young man who was kind enough to drive me home and not give my hickeys up and down my neck. Then, tomorrow, you can come over and hang out with everybody. Besides, my dad will probably be so distracted by meeting everyone that he won't even remember to give you the third degree." Troy placed his free hand on top of her knee and squeezed it nervously.
"Honestly, that's not making me feel much better. I have this strange feeling that your father will make time, no matter what, to meet, and I use that term loosely because it's more like interrogate, the guy who's dating his daughter." Gabriella smiled softly, inhaling deeply and then pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw.
"But you'll come tomorrow, and you'll meet him anyway, won't you?" she asked tentatively, looking up at him hopefully. He smiled down at her and gave her hand a tight squeeze.
"Yes, I will be there tomorrow. You want me to meet your dad and get his blessing and everything, and I'll do that just for you." Gabriella beamed at him and gave him another brief kiss. "I'll be terrified out of my mind the entire time, but I'll be there," he promised.
"You're officially the best boyfriend ever."
"I know. So, who's actually coming tomorrow?" Gabriella moved back to her own seat as Troy started the car again, making a quick U-turn back onto the main road.
"Well, I originally was going to have you and Taylor and Ryan, but then I realized that if I invited both Taylor and Ryan that I would have to invite Chad, too, and Sharpay. And I felt bad for not including Kelsi, but then Jason would want to come, and then it would just be Zeke who was left out. So, as of now, you, Chad, Taylor, Ryan, Sharpay, Zeke, Jason, and Kelsi are coming. But only your parents, the Evans and the McKessies are actually coming. We didn't invite anybody else's parents." Troy glanced at her and he turned onto another side street, headed towards her house.
"So everyone that you know is going to be there, pretty much?" Gabriella nodded, rooting through her bag for her suddenly buzzing cell phone. "Who's that?"
"My dad," she sighed. "Ew, my dad just text messaged me. My parents shouldn't know how to text." The flipped open her phone. "Hey, this is a surprise. He wants to know where I am and why I'm not home yet. I've only been getting the same text message everyday for the past three days, every time I leave the house." Not bothering to respond to the text message, the stuffed her phone back into her bag. "I love my dad and all, but he's been here for three days and has already gone psycho-police-chief on me."
Frowning slightly as she noticed where Troy stopped the car again, she looked around. "Why'd you stop here?" she questioned, noting that the next right turn would be onto her block. Troy smiled, leaning over to her.
"Well, I guess I should give you your I'll-be-calling-you-in-about-a-half-hour kiss here. This way, your father won't come out of the house with a shotgun and murder me in the driveway." Gabriella rolled her eyes, but she smiled and leaned towards him anyway. Allowing his lips to linger against hers for several moments, she placed her hand in the middle of the bench seat and leaned farther into him as he teased her bottom lip with his teeth.
As a car that was passing the stop sign let out a loud beep, they pulled apart and Gabriella began blushing profusely. The senior citizens in the passing car shot the two teens dirty looks as they passed, and a blushing Troy and Gabriella slid down in their seats. Glancing at each other once the car turned a corner, they burst out laughing.
"I just got a seriously dirty look from two people who I think go to my church," Gabriella gasped, giggling wildly as she slouched in her seat. "And I don't even care, just because I got to make out with you." Troy smirked at her before leaning over and placing a second kiss on her lips. "Actually," she whispered, nuzzling her nose against his, "it was kind of exhilarating."
"Maybe we should sit here a little longer, and if I see another car you can climb onto my lap and starting moaning out the window. I'll even throw in a little grope, if you want." Gabriella gasped and slapped at his chest, pulling away from him.
"You, Troy Bolton, are not prepared to meet my father. Then again," she corrected, glancing around, "maybe you are. You're very well versed in the art of hiding things from parents. Giving me the kiss around the corner from my house was borderline parental avoidance genius." Troy continued to smirk at her, brushing his lips against any part of her jaw that he could reach.
"Some of your brilliance must be rubbing off on me. That, combined with the deviousness that I get from Chad, is a dangerous concoction." Gabriella rolled her eyes, smiling as she pushed him back towards the driver's side of the car.
"Yeah, yeah, you're a mastermind. Now bring me home before my father calls the police, Einstein." Troy jokingly stuck his tongue out at her as he turned the corner. Pulling up in front of her house, he noticed the sudden movement through the living room window as someone stood and made their way towards the front door.
"I think your dad is anxious to see you," Troy smiled, gesturing towards her opening front door. Gabriella rolled her eyes slightly.
"I swear if he goes police chief investigator on me when I get inside, he's going to seriously piss me off." Troy chuckled and reached over to take her hand again. "You're corrupting me, you know. You got lucky; you got my genius, but I got your very horrible attitude."
"This is incredibly unfair. I would love to be able to kiss you to shut you up, but your dad is watching me very closely at the moment." Gabriella glanced back at her house where her father was standing, arms crossed, at the front door. Pushing open the car door, she grabbed her bag and her jacket before leaning over to press a swift kiss to his cheek.
"Thanks for the ride, platonic buddy." He grinned at her.
"High five, Just-A-Friend." She slammed the car door shut and then reached back to slap his hand.
"Call me later?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
He grinned, "Well, I did already give you the standard I'll-call-you-in-about-a-half-hour kiss. We wouldn't want to have gotten those dirty looks for nothing." She giggled and glanced towards the house when she heard her father's steps on the porch.
"And now, I leave you. Adios, Wildcat." He nodded as she walked away from the car. She accepted the hug from her father and then squeezed past him into the house. Gulping slightly as the parental gaze fell on him, Troy pulled away from the curb, fairly anxious to get away from the house.
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Pulling up in front of his house, Troy sighed, letting his head fall back against the headrest. He didn't know how to 'meet the father.' Gabriella – though he was a bit embarrassed to admit it – was the first girlfriend he'd had where he'd met the parents at all. He'd never had a girlfriend serious enough to hang out at her house with her parents. Groaning to himself, he hopped out of his truck and slapped the door shut. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he headed towards his house.
"Hello, Troy!" a voice called out. Turning to his right, Troy spotted the man called from next door, looking up from the chalk drawing on the driveway. "I haven't seen you around in a while. How've you been?" Troy smiled politely, approaching the short fence that separated the two front years.
"Hey, Mr. Davis," he greeted. "I'm good." Waving at the small girl who was stumbling to her feet on the driveway beside his neighbor, he smiled. "Hey Jamie, how are you feeling? I heard that you were sick a few days ago." The toddler grabbed onto her father's leg and grinned at Troy, her pigtails shaking slightly.
"Much better, Troy!" she cried enthusiastically. "I had a cold in my nose. But I'm better now!" He smiled at her, readjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. Suddenly, the front door of the house opened and Mrs. Davis called for Jamie to come inside to freshen up and have a quick snack. Jamie called goodbye quickly and then ran up the stoop and into the house. Mr. Davis stood awkwardly on the driveway with his hands in his pockets before taking a step towards the house.
"Well, I'd better get inside, too. I'll see you around, Troy." For a split-second, Troy felt a farewell on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back and scooted around the fence quickly, making his way across the Davis's lawn.
"Hey, Mr. Davis, can I ask you a question?" The older man stopped and turned, smiling friendlily. Troy strode to the front walk, stopping in front of his neighbor.
"Of course. Hit me with your best shot." Troy smiled uneasily, once again readjusting the strap on his shoulder. His gaze dropped to his sneakers for a moment before he looked timidly at Mr. Davis.
"It's kind of about Jamie."
Mr. Davis chuckled, "She's a little young for you, don't you think?" Troy laughed along with him for a moment, rubbing at the back of his neck. As their laughter died down, another awkward silence settled over the pair, and Troy decided it was best to be blunt.
"What's it like being the father of a little girl?" he blurted, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Mr. Davis's eyebrows rose, and he sent Troy a questioning look.
"Why do you ask?" he inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. Troy glanced at his own home, spotting the empty spot in the driveway where his father's car would typically be.
"I felt kind of funny asking my dad for advice about it, but I really needed some advice from someone with experience."
Mr. Davis's eyes widened slightly and his eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "You're not…?"
"No," Troy yelped, his own eyes widening. "No, I didn't get anyone pregnant." Mr. Davis appeared greatly relieved and Troy managed a weak smile. "What I mean to ask is how does it feel? Like, when she starts dating, are you going to be freakishly protective? Are you going to really hate any guy that ever tries to go out with her? Are you going to try and cut off her first boyfriend's genitals?" A knowing smile appeared on his neighbor's face and Mr. Davis clapped Troy on the shoulder.
"You're meeting the parents, aren't you?" Troy smiled bashfully, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"Is my panic that obvious? Actually, I'm meeting the father. I already met her mom, but her dad stayed behind for his job and now he got a transfer and I have to meet him at a barbeque tomorrow and I have no idea what to do to impress this guy." Mr. Davis smiled at him.
"I was nervous when I met Tracy's parents. Her father was in the army. I remember thinking that he would kill me the second that I stepped into the house. But everything went fine. Troy, I've known you a long time, ever since you were little. You're a good kid. Fathers can sense that, believe me. The only way you won't make it out alive is if got her pregnant. Or if you got her hooked on drugs," he added as an afterthought. Troy chuckled and looked down at his feet.
"My girlfriend is a mathlete. If I ever even suggested the possibility of one of us taking drugs, she would beat me into unconsciousness with a TI-89 graphing calculator, and she would make sure that it was in degree mode, simply because degree mode is 'so much cooler than radian.'" At the look he got from his neighbor, he nodded, "I know, but I can't help loving her absolute nerdiness."
"That's the side of you that her father needs to see," Mr. Davis pointed out, running a hand through his hair, "The side that loves his daughter because of her little quirks. Fathers just want what's best for their children. Don't worry about impressing him, Troy. Just make sure that you're being yourself. Act how you act around your girlfriend." Troy's eyes widened.
"I think that might get me killed."
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"Troy, thank goodness you're home!" Lucille rushed at her son from upstairs, a laundry basket full of dirty clothes clutched in her arm. "I want to do a few loads before tomorrow so that we all have clean clothes to wear, but I can't find your dress pants anywhere." Dropping the large basket onto the floor, Troy's mother yanked the elastic band from her hair and began forming the silky redness into a ponytail. "I sorted through all of the clothes on your floor and I went through all of the hampers and I just can't find them. Do you know where they are? I know you wore them a few weeks ago to Uncle Leo's birthday dinner, but I can't remember if I washed them or not." Troy smiled, throwing his mom a slightly bewildered look.
"Mom, we're going to a barbeque…at Gabriella's house. I do not need to wear formal dress pants. I'm pretty sure that as long as I'm wearing pants I'll be within the dress code." Stepping on the heels of his sneakers, he kicked both of his shoes into the closet and hung his keys up on the hook beside the front door. Lucille gave her son a pointed look and held his hand up. "Hey, I'm just saying." Scooting around his mother, he began ascending the stairs, the strap of his backpack digging into his shoulder.
"Well, while I'm sure that your girlfriend appreciates your total disregard for the necessity of clothing, I'm also sure that her father won't feel the same way." Troy stopped halfway up the stairs and turned his head to look down at his mother, gripping the railing, a look of disbelief etched into his face.
"Hey, you knew about that? How long have you known, and why didn't you tell me?" Lucille smiled, bending down to grab the laundry basket off the floor. Resting it against her hip, she shrugged and raised an eyebrow.
"Why, Troy Alexander, are you nervous?" Troy turned completely around to face his mother, going down one more step on the staircase.
"Not nervous, just…apprehensive."
"Oh, honey, you have nothing to be nervous about."
"I'm not nervous, I'm apprehensive. And even if I were nervous, I would have good reason to be. This is sort of a big deal, don't you think?" Lucille gestured at his shirt.
"Take that off, I want to wash it." As Troy rolled his eyes and peeled off his shirt, he smirked.
"See, this would be the perfect apparel for tomorrow." He gestured at his bare torso and jeans, grinning when his mother shook her head. "Okay, maybe I'll throw on a shirt or something. Maybe." Lucille stuffed the shirt into the basket and then looked back up at Troy.
"While I do appreciate your 'I'm – Too – Cool – To –Talk – To – My – Mom' attitude, please try and remember that I am your mother. I can see that you're trembling inside. You're a nervous wreck." Tilting her head to the side, she smiled sweetly at him. "That's so adorable." Troy's face contorted. "You're so in love with that girl…"
"Whoa, mom, love is…" he hesitated and then mumbled, "…a surprisingly accurate word…"
"Troy," his mother sighed happily, "just promise me that tomorrow you won't–"
Troy cut her off. "Yeah," he chuckled, "I'm going to go upstairs and get some advice from someone who isn't my mom." He made it to the second floor landing before his mother called to him.
"Believe it or not, young man, I do know a thing or two about how fathers react to boyfriends. I had my fair share of boyfriends when I was growing up, and I brought a few of them home to meet grandpa." Troy dropped his backpack onto the hallway floor and leaned against the railing, looking down at his mother.
"Yeah, but mom, you and Gabriella are very different. You were a cheerleader in high school. Bringing home a guy who was a football player or a basketball player or some sort of jock was sort of expected. All due respect to Gabriella, but she's a very…academically oriented person. Her father is not going to be expecting a guy like me, who is not quite as academically oriented. Unless Gabriella gives him a very vivid description of me – which I have a weird feeling she's not going to do – her father is going to be expecting Wally from Chemistry club with glasses half the size of his face and a pocket protector. Not me."
Lucille grinned, "You are one of a kind." Troy smiled, shaking his bangs out of his eyes.
"Yeah, well, a shocker like me could trigger a very dangerous knee-jerk reaction." His face fell. "Oh, knee-jerk, that reminds me. I need to find my sports cup. Do you know where it is?" Shaking her head, Lucille started towards the laundry room.
"You're being ridiculous."
"Do you want grandchildren or not?"
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"Chad, I need help. I need a lot of help. You have to help me. You have to help me a lot. It's required if you wish to hold the title of 'best friend.' I need help, and I need a lot of it, so you have to help me." Troy slowly paced across his bedroom, kicking at stray t-shirts and stomping on several pairs of dirty socks.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here, buddy, and say that you need my help. Am I close?" Chad's falsely serious voice caused Troy to groan in frustration, holding the phone away from his ear as he seriously considered hurling it at the wall. "Hey, calm down. What's up, Hoops?"
"I'm doing the meet-the-parents routine tomorrow at Gabriella's." There was a brief moment of confused silence on Chad's end of the phone before he snorted out loud.
"Dude, haven't you sort of done the meeting of the parent? I mean, you've only been to her house, what, ever single weekend. You and her mom are more buddy-buddy than me and Zeke."
"Yeah, that's the problem, Chad," he exclaimed. "I already met the parent, and now I have to meet the other one!" There was another momentary silence.
"The other parent? You mean…Gabriella's dad? He exists? He's alive?" Troy nodded as Chad fired questions into his ear.
"Yes, Gabriella's father. Yes, he exists. Yes, he's alive. Yes, I have to meet him tomorrow at the barbeque, and yes, I have to impress him tomorrow, and yes, I have to charm my way into his heart before he cuts off my ball with a hacksaw, or worse a butter knife, for contaminating his little girl! And yes, I found out all of this literally fifteen minutes ago."
"Well, isn't that the problem of the century?" Chad said slowly, and Troy could hear the rapid clicking of an Xbox controller in the background.
"You think so?" Troy exclaimed. "I'm not prepared for this. I was preparing for weeks before I went to dinner with Gabriella and Christina." Chad chuckled into the phone.
"Well, you're pretty screwed, aren't you?"
"You're supposed to be helping me, not psyching me out," Troy hissed into the phone, throwing himself backwards onto the bed. His head landed uncomfortably atop a pair of Gabriella's shoes, and he had no idea how they had gotten there. Pushing them onto the floor, he grabbed for his pillow, stuffing it under his head.
"You called me for helpful and thoughtful and heartfelt advice?"
"Oh, God, I'm a moron," Troy groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead.
"I resent that."
"You're the one who pointed it out to me."
"Do you want some advice?"
"Are you going to give me any worthwhile advice?"
"Maybe."
"Lay it on me."
"Because, and only because, you are my brother from another mother–"
"You didn't just say that."
"–I will share with you this amazing secret. You should never, ever, be yourself around your girlfriend's father. When he's around, you're the wussy-boy from school who doesn't believe in holding hands before marriage. When he's not, you get to revert back to your typical horny seventeen year old self."
Troy felt his mouth fall open. "That's the worst advice that I have ever gotten."
"That advice is golden!" Chad argued, "Do you think her father would ever be happy knowing that his precious little girl was going out with a pervert like you?"
"Thanks," Troy drawled sarcastically, glaring around his room.
"I can tell that you don't appreciate my wonderful advice."
"What tipped you off?"
"Shut up, Hoops. What do you want from me?"
"I want helpful stuff, stuff that won't cause Gabriella's father to ban me from seeing her ever again."
"Ehh, if it doesn't work out, there are always other fish in the sea." Troy's mouth turned down at Chad's words and he sat up, placing his feet firmly on the ground.
"That's not cool. I don't love the other fish."
There was a brief moment a silence. "You're not allowed to use that word."
"What word?"
"Love. You're not entitled to be in love. You're not even entitled to say the word love. You're not entitled to think the word love. Besides, you're not in love. This is just one nibble from a small fish in the sea of life." Troy frowned.
"How do you know that I'm not in love? Maybe I am in love with my fish. I think I could be in love with her. And so what if I was in love with her? Maybe I don't want to be a fisherman. Maybe I just want to catch one fish and take it home and that's it."
"Why are we talking about fish?"
"You brought it up!" Troy yelled, exasperated and beginning to run out of patience.
"Well, bring it back down. Bury it in the dirt. Cover it up. Forget that we were ever talking about the fishes," Chad coaxed, and Troy groaned, throwing himself back onto the bed.
"Doing that won't make me forget that I think I love Gabriella."
"See, right there, that's good. You only think you love her. You don't really love her. Classic psych-out."
"I doubt it."
"You're an idiot."
"And you give sucky advice!"
"Suck it, Bolton. My advice rules all. I'd like to hear the other advice that you've gotten, because I can tell you right now that my advice owns Zeke's advice. And don't even bother with Jason or Ryan, because they don't have enough experience. Speaking of which, I need to take my brief moment to mock you, best friend since kindergarten, about your lack of experience. Ha, ha, ha-ha."
"Are you done now?"
"Almost. Ah-ha. Ha, ha, ha. Alright, now I'm done."
"Thank you."
"Oh, man, I have to go. I'll catch you later, or tomorrow. Whatever comes first." Troy sat up again slowly, scratching the top of his head.
"Sure, but can I ask you one quick question?"
"Go for it, man. But make it quick, because my mom is starting to scream."
"Should I tell her?" There was an extended moment of silence on Chad's end, and Troy could distinctly make out his mother screeching for him in the background.
"I don't know," Chad exhaled. "Are you sure enough about it where you think you could tell her? Would you be cool with knowing that she might not be…at that place yet?" Troy scowled.
"Oh, sure, now you decide to be helpful."
"You're funny, Hoops. Look man, I seriously have to go. I'll catch you later."
Groaning as the line went dead, Troy slapped his phone closed, tossed it on the bed, and put the palms of his hands to his forehead, pressing firmly. Rolling onto his stomach, he pressed his face into the comforter, inhaling the faint scent of Gabriella's perfume clinging to the fabric. After a moment, he let out a loud, overdramatic yell, muffled and heard a faint knock on his bedroom door.
"Troy, honey, are you going to be alright?"
"Worst advice ever," he called back, "Combined with the most thought-provoking advice ever. I think I'm having some sort of brain seizure. It feels like my brain is turning over in my skull. Remind me next time I need advice about something to call someone who isn't Chad." His mother laughed out loud.
"I could have told you that earlier. Don't go to your friends for advice about your girlfriend's father." Opening the door, she poked her head inside. "Your father is making barbeque ribs for dinner. Is that alright?" Troy nodded tiredly into his mattress. "Maybe you could ask him for some advice. He is your father, and he has been in your position before." Rolling over and sitting up, Troy shook his head.
"I'd feel weird asking dad. He doesn't like Gabriella very much."
"That is not true. He was just being a typical wary parent who was concerned about his son's focus. He happens to think that Gabriella has been a wonderful influence on you. And even if he did happen to dislike her a little, it doesn't mean that he'd give you bad advice. He'd still tell you everything he knows. Even though all he would say would be to be yourself, just like I was trying to tell you earlier." Her eyebrows were raised in a superior manner and Troy rolled his eyes.
"Alright, I will ask dad for advice later, if I still feel the need, okay?" Lucille shook her head, chuckling softly. As she moved to exit the room again, Troy cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. "Hey, uh, mom? I'm going to throw a major cheesy question your way, alright? But I'm only going to do it if you swear not to go all 'my baby boy' on me." Lucille stepped back inside, leaning up against the doorframe and crossing her arms.
"I promise, I won't."
"How did you know when you were in love with dad?" Suddenly, her eyes widened and a hand flew to her mouth. He spotted the wetness in her eyes and threw out an accusatory finger and a groan. "You promised, mom!" She shook her head, blinking her eyes rapidly.
"I didn't say anything! I didn't say…anything." As his eyes narrowed at her, she held up her hands. "It's fine. I'm fine." Lacing her hands together, she tapped them gently against her nose. "How did I know when I was in love with your father? I didn't really," she confessed. "It wasn't like one day I woke up and said to myself, 'You know, I think I love Jack.' It happened over time. Love at first sight is hard to come by when you've been seeing someone for six months." Troy smiled, looking down at his feet.
"Can you be falling in love with someone for a long time, and completely not realize it until the day before you have to go to a barbeque at her house and be forced to meet and impress her dad?" Laughing slightly, his mother tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I suppose it's possible." Suddenly, a shrill beep rang out and Troy's hand flew to his phone, holding it up to check the caller I.D. Looking back at his mother, he raised an eyebrow pleadingly and she nodded. "I get it. When Gabriella calls, it is to be a one-on-one conversation at all times. There should be no outside listeners." He opened his mouth again. "I know, I know, this conversation never reaches your father's ears." He grinned as she backed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
Flipping open his phone, he fell back on his bed, his head crashing down onto his pillow, "Troy Bolton speaking."
"You're a liar."
"You're a jerkface."
"Hey!"
"Sorry, I thought we were playing a name game. What's wrong?"
"You said that you would call in a half hour. It's been forty-five minutes, making you the jerkface."
"Oh, that really makes me want to talk to you."
"Don't be mean to me. I'm already in a bad mood. You're supposed to make my bad mood go away. Woo me over the phone. Can you do that? Is that even possible?"
"I can try."
"My dad went psycho-police-chief on me. He was all 'who was that boy' and 'why are you so late' and I was like 'ugh.'"
"Nice."
"Make me happy, Wildcat."
"Your dad won't–"
"No, don't talk about my dad," Gabriella moaned, "Talk about you. What are you doing?"
"Me? I'm lying on my bed and I'm talking to you."
"What are you wearing?"
"What am I wearing?"
"Yeah, what are you wearing? I need some visual reference." Shaking his head, Troy glanced down at himself.
"I'm wearing jeans and socks. They're white."
"That's it?" came her surprised voice.
"That's it. Well, and underwear, of course. They're red, boxers, of course."
"What about a shirt? Or did you go all Hulk and rip it to pieces."
"No, my mom wanted to wash it, and I was too lazy to put on another one. Oh, by the way, tomorrow isn't formal or anything is it? Because my mom is trying to get me to wear dress pants, and I keep telling her that I don't have to, but she doesn't believe me." Gabriella laughed into the phone, humming in Troy's ears.
"Troy, it's a backyard barbeque. As long as you're wearing pants you'll meet the dress code."
"That's exactly what I told her!"
"Well, maybe you should wear a shirt, too, for my dad's benefit. And mine too, because if my dad ever catches you without a shirt on, it'll mean that he'll see…something that he probably won't want near his daughter."
"Is that insinuating that I have an amazingly sexy body?"
"No. It's insinuating that my father doesn't want me hanging out with half-naked people, regardless of whether or not they're amazingly sexy."
"Which I am."
"Which you are."
"Don't feel intimidated though. You're sexy, too."
"Sexy enough to be forgotten?"
"It was only fifteen minutes! And it wasn't totally my fault anyway. I made the searing mistake of calling Chad and asking for advice."
"No!" Gabriella yelped, panic laced in her voice. "You're kidding, right? Do not listen to anything that he says! I've heard his advice, alright, and I know that he thinks it would be a good idea for you to pretend to be a total gentleman tomorrow just to get on my dad's good side. It's not. Please, please, please, I am begging you. Do not act like a gentleman."
"I'm incredibly confused."
"Troy, please, just be yourself tomorrow," she begged. "Troy, I fell…fell for you," she stammered. "I want Daddy to like you for you, too. Please, don't act like someone you're not, because then when you get comfortable and start acting like yourself, my dad is going to flip out. And then he might actually end up cutting off your…part."
"I hate you for doing this to me."
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"Troy, it is time for dinner! This is your last chance. The ribs are on the table. Come on, you've been talking on that phone for nearly two hours. Tell Gabriella that you'll call her back later." Troy rolled his eyes, sitting up slowly.
"Hey, Gabriella, I have to go eat dinner. My dad made ribs tonight, and you know how weak I am when it comes to ribs." Gabriella chuckled into the phone, and Troy groaned inwardly, cursing the adorable giggle that was making it incredibly hard to tell her goodbye.
"You are powerless to the barbeque. Don't worry, my mom called me a few minutes ago, too. Feel free to go pig out." Troy grinned, running a hand through his hair.
"Thank you for the consent. I'll call you again later, okay, after dinner?"
"Sounds like a plan, Wildcat." A loud voice called out in the background on Gabriella's end and he heard her groan. "Hey, that's a surprise. My dad wants to know who I'm talking to."
"He's just being a dad, Gabriella."
"Well, I'm being a teenager and getting annoyed at him for prying into my personal life."
"He's not totally prying."
"Yeah, yeah. Go eat ribs."
"Fine, but don't hang up angry."
"I'm not angry. I'm just nervous. What if he doesn't like you?" Troy's eyes bulged and he tightened his grip on the phone.
"What's wrong with you?" he yelped. "You're not allowed to say stuff like that to me right before we hang up! You're not allowed to say stuff like that to me in general! You're supposed to be sitting there going 'Oh, Troy, don't worry. Daddy is going to love you.' And then you can hang up."
"I'm sorry," she apologized, "but I'm allowed to be nervous, aren't I? It's really important that you and my dad get along, because you two are, like, the two most important guys in my life, and if you don't get along… I mean, I wasn't so worried before, but then you told me that you were asking Chad for advice, and now I'm really, really worried."
"Hey, hey, calm down," he soothed. "I promise that I won't listen to Chad's advice. I swear it."
"On what?"
"I swear it on Chad's afro. If I listen to his advice tomorrow, I will have to risk my life attempting to shave it off." Gabriella giggled again and Troy smiled to himself.
"Troy, I swear," Jack's voice thundered down the hallway. "If you don't come to the table now, you're not getting dinner."
"Did I get you in trouble?" Gabriella's panicked voice whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry. I'll let you go eat dinner now. Call me later; maybe we can hang out, or something."
"Count on it."
"Talk to you later, then. Bye Troy."
"Bye," he said softly, closing his phone as the line went dead. Placing it down on the nightstand beside his bed, his eyes drifted over the framed photograph of his girlfriend. "I love you," he whispered. Then, he nodded his head. "Yeah, that won't be hard at all."
"Troy!"
"I'm coming!" he called, jogging down the hallway and sliding into the dining room. "I'm here." Plopping down into a chair, he grinned, "Ah, loaded with barbeque sauce." As he reached for a rib, he glanced around the table, noticing the look that his father was shooting him. "What?" he asked, shifting his eyes between his parents. "Do I have something on my face?" Suddenly, Jack chuckled and looked down at his plate, stabbing a forkful of coleslaw and lifting it to his mouth. Frowning slightly, Troy picked his rib up again, taking a bite out of the side. His eyes happened to catch his mother gesturing at his father. Jack put his fork down, reaching for his glass.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "Just the other day, I was thinking about the very moment when I realized that I was in love with your mother." Troy's eyes snapped to meet his father's as the rib he held between his fingers went tumbling to his plate, and then darted accusingly to his mother as she rolled her eyes.
"You told him?" he hissed, angrily wiping his hands on a napkin as his cheeks flushed. "You said that you wouldn't tell him!" Lucille shrugged, chewing a mouthful of salad before shooting her husband a pointed look.
"She didn't tell me anything," Jack confessed. "I drew it out of her. I asked her how you were feeling about tomorrow, and she mentioned that you were a little nervous." Troy glowered at his mother.
"I am not nervous. I am slightly apprehensive."
"You're nervous," Jack said forcefully. "Don't deny it. And I suppose that suddenly realizing that you're in love only makes it that much more intimidating." Troy poked at the rib on his plate.
"It might not be in love," he pointed out. "Maybe it's just…gas."
"Gas makes you think you love your girlfriend?"
"No," Troy muttered dully, sucking a large drop of barbeque sauce off of his finger. "It's not fair. I shouldn't have to deal with two major relationship breakthroughs within a twenty-four hour period. That's just cruel. And meeting her dad is a big enough deal. I don't need all the pressure of having to be all mushy and talk about my feelings. Ugh." He grimaced, "I'm not looking forward to that talk." Lucille raised her eyebrow and exchanged a bemused look with her husband.
"You're not looking forward to the moment when you tell your girlfriend that you love her?"
"No, I'm not looking forward to the moment when I tell Chad that I told my girlfriend that I either love her or have a severe case of gas."
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Author's Note: Don't throw anything just yet. Just give me a chance to explain, 'cause I swear that I have a reason for my searing lack of updates. For those of you who haven't visited my profile lately, I'll explain further. Due to my doctor's incompetence, I never received the vaccine for the Chicken Pox. So, during the last two months of school before crunch time for finals, I was home sick for two weeks with a fever of 102 degrees. It was not pleasant. I don't have any reason for my lack of updates during the summer, except for a tiny, itty-bitty case of writer's block centering around My Guys. My hope is that the reason I couldn't get my thought to focus on My Guys was because of Dabbles with Daddy. It has been jumping around inside my head for a while now, demanding to be written. Most likely, this story will be around three chapters long.
Reviews are welcomed and constructive criticism is appreciated!