Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All creative rights to the characters in this story related to High School Musical belong to its original creators. Any other names, places or events that may have similarity to existing/actual names, places or events is purely coincidental and the use of such is for the purpose of this story alone. Lastly, the author does not, in any way, profit from this story.

Stopping the rented 4x4 on the side of the narrow uphill road, Gabriella Montez stepped out from the driver's seat to look to her surroundings. Hands on her hips, brows furrowed in irritation over the sight she beheld—a deserted road that was not only narrow and damp and in no way can be described as well paved or passable but dangerous as well judging from the left side of the road that fell away into a deep ravine and the tall, dark emerald green and creepy looking trees lining the right side of it.

Thanks a lot Timothy. She grumbled silently, grabbing the map inside the car and calming her frustration long enough to trace where her location might be. The road she passed over an hour ago branched into two directions and she had the inkling she chose the wrong branch. When Timothy Bolton, her boyfriend, and Ryan Evans, one of her closest friends, recommended that she take a vacation to help her de-stress and eventually make her find her muse—writing muse—she agreed to the suggestion especially after Ryan mentioned the secluded vacation house his wealthy parents own in Zephyr Cove at South Lake Tahoe that they named Seventh Heaven.

The idea, the location and the suggestive name of the supposedly cozy house convinced Gabriella that it would be a relaxing and fruitful getaway. With a name like Seventh Heaven, she envisioned a rustic mountain cabin surrounded by beautiful landscaping, with trees and flowering plants and overlooking a lake . . . as close to heaven as she could get! The prospect of travelling without any cause for worry and having to spend a few days in a peaceful, unpolluted and carefree environment was what made the suggestion so inviting and convinced her that a change of scenery was really needed to find her muse.

Oh boy, how wrong was she!—on the travelling part at least—since she has yet to pass judgment on the house once she finds it. Her flight from Los Angeles being delayed for nearly three hours compared to the 1.3 hours actual flight should have warned her that this getaway is bound to be doomed with mishaps. If her phone had even the faintest signal right now, she'd call Tim or Ryan and give them a piece of her mind about this proposition that just became a trek into the uncharted reaches of a dense rainforest and a precipice she couldn't see clearly enough to tell how far the fall will be to the bottom.

Not that she was planning on falling just to ascertain how far the drop will be but it always helped to be aware of certain facts to keep one's senses alert especially in a foreign place like this.

Feeling a chilly blow of wind, she tossed the map on the passenger seat having figured she didn't make a wrong turn and climbed back in the jeep. The time on her watch read 5:30 PM which means in these parts, where the trees wounded with huge monsteria vines seem to be encroaching closer on both sides of the narrow rutted road, it will be getting pretty dark soon—if not already.

She most definitely doesn't want to get stuck among these scary trees. She started the car, inexplicably relieved to hear the low rev of the engine as a crazy jolt of imagination of the trees coming to life like the ones in Lord of the Rings movie suddenly beset her mind, except these trees she was warily looking at were demented and couldn't distinguish the hero from the villain.

"Tim is the villain!" She addressed aloud to no one in particular, tightening her hold on the steering wheel and swerving sharply to the left just in time when her vision swung ahead to see a huge dip in the road that might very well be the size of a volcano's crater.

Then, before she could even collect her composure, all of a sudden, a deafening crack of thunder exploded in the sky and soon after, rain ensued. Big, fat drops at the onset, making Gabriella shriek and frantically step on the brakes to gape in disbelief at the windshield as the water falling became a torrential downpour.

"I want to get there in one piece!" She shouted amidst the harsh beat of the rain on the roof of the car, yet desperately hoping not another sound of thunder would come next. She doesn't think she can handle maneuvering up the road while trying to ignore her fear of one of nature's common occurrence.

Gabriella cursed but continued to drive at minimal speed, swiping a palm against the condensation that blurred the glass then looking side to side on the off chance that she'll see another human being and hopefully said person can point her in the right direction or assure her there's a house called Seventh Heaven at the end of this rutted road.

Tim, of course, as always meant well when he casually suggested she take this vacation while he was inspecting the new painting that arrived in his art gallery. Being the friend and boyfriend that he is, and knowing each other for close to nineteen years, he was aware of how she was having difficulty finishing the few remaining chapters of the screenplay for a Hallmark TV movie and more so writing a new story for her literary agent, Keri Parkins, to negotiate with producers, directors and publications. And it didn't help that Keri added to the pressures Gabriella already placed on herself to finish the screenplay of a complicated and drama filled father-daughter relationship with a perfect ending.

She's a writer by profession and a hell of a good one too, with an Emmy to her name and a few other notable literary awards here and there. As a child, her fondest memories of her parents were ones where they read her children story books to put her to sleep which developed her general love for books and reading as she got older. What started out as bedtime stories became a book collection that grew over the years, filling up an entire wall of her bedroom. The genre of interest is diversified. She would read everything and anything that takes up her attention for a certain period.

At one point, she remembered, she had been obsessed with the Nancy Drew series books thinking everything was an exciting mystery to be solved before it went to eighteenth century themed romance novels where she was enamored by the sweeping tales of the women in big dresses and the acceptable behavior in society during those times then from classic romance it transferred to an interest in the supernatural beings—vampires and werewolves, witches and warlocks, ghosts, angels, demons, fairies, mermaids—and then even those simple essays expressing opinions or those practical 'how to' books.

As soon as she opens a book and starts reading, she's enraptured and transported into another world.

A world that was her alternate reality. A world where she can forget the pains of witnessing her parents constant fighting and their eventual divorce. A world where she's considered pretty with guys vying for her attention because they want to get to know her better and not because they're in dire need of a tutor. A world where she isn't the target of ridicule or sometimes senseless bullying from the popular crowd of East High because she was a plump girl with glasses and braces. A world where she's confident not awkward or timid and not always wanting for her mother's comforting presence when she desperately needed a family member for support.

Her teen years weren't exactly traumatic. In fact, it got better over the years—thank God for friends. But it wasn't smooth sailing either. It was probably a given for teens to be gauche . . . maybe except for the few lucky ones who seem to be born with overflowing confidence and beauty . . . and it didn't help that her mother became such a workaholic after the divorce, always gone for weeks at a time leaving her daughter to fend for herself and deal with her problems alone. So when reading and letting her imagination run wild didn't work all that much anymore, writing filled the void.

She became driven to write, initially weaving words into stories where the main female character is beautiful, confident, strong-willed, and gets to experience a loving relationship either from family, many friends or an ardent man. Everything she's not but hopes to be. It became her outlet. All the teenage woes gave her ideas for stories and they were plenty. It was like her fingers had a mind of their own, typing away in her computer like she was rushing to meet a deadline when in fact it was just going into a file in her computer's documents.

Regardless, writing also served as some sort of emotional release for her and a confidence booster. It kept her calm and seemingly unaffected and on certain occasions, sane. Because of writing she learned to ignore the gibes from the obnoxious crowd in school and was able to concentrate more on her classes which she always did excel at and to the few people who are her friends and remained to be her friends up until now.

It was Tim who encouraged her to take journalism classes in the summer of their freshman year in high school after he accidentally read one of her stories and was thoroughly impressed by it. She took to his suggestion, thinking there wasn't anything wrong with it and besides, she reckoned, it would keep her from being forced by her father to bond with his new wife.

With Tim's constant encouragement and his steady belief in her talent, she joined writing competitions and won some of them, making them jump around like crazies and with the prize money, celebrating at an expensive restaurant the first time it happened. In due course, she began submitting articles or literary journals to small presses. Later on as a high school senior, discovering she had a gift for screenwriting which easily opened several doors for her and without realizing it, writing had become her life taking the place of family, a romantic relationship and chances of freeing herself from the insecurity she seem to constantly feel.

Now, at twenty five, for some unknown reason, she entered into a phase where ideas aren't presenting itself freely and along the way had lost her knack for forging a concept into a storyline of dialogue and action which is what screenwriting entails. It was frustrating.

And instead of lessening the frustration, this trip she agreed to embark on was heightening it!

Damn.

What Ryan failed to mention about Seventh Heaven though is it isn't a travel on heaven's road. There was nothing smooth or nice about her trip so far which is stressing her out even more. And finding this supposed haven was much harder than she was led to believe. Otherwise, she wouldn't have dared finding the place on her own. Let's hope this Seventh Heaven is worth it, Ryan, or you'll so get it from me big time. She muttered, speeding up the road a little.

Her eyes were trained to the left, still afraid of the ravine and the dangers it poses if she isn't careful with her driving especially under the rain and the already dim sky that's making it even more difficult for her to see the road. Just as she let her gaze briefly swing to the right, a flash of white caught her eye. Letters on a wooden sign! Braking abruptly, tires grounding on the damp soil, she slowly backed up until she could read the decently painted sign that read Seventh Heaven.

Gabriella expelled a breath and relaxed her tense body, thankful for finding the place before any more tragedies happen to her. She turned off the engine, checked her watch that registered she had been slow driving for an hour since the stop earlier and then with an acquiescent sigh, she tried to dig through one of her suitcase for something to cover her head from the nasty rain until she can reach the front door and ask for help from the caretaker Ryan assured would be there upon her arrival to unload her things from the car.

Placing the spare small portfolio bag atop her head, she got out of the jeep, shutting the door, ignoring the rain that trickled like ice on her warm skin and quickly scanned the short driveway that led to the house. A pale glow shone from the inside telling her the caretaker was there as promised.

Needing to get settled in as soon as possible, envisioning herself taking a luxurious bath and afterwards start writing the last pages for the TV movie then hopefully start with a new one—"Romance, Gabriella, we need romance."—Keri had said a little pleadingly when she dropped her off at LAX, she took several quick steps forward without looking at the muddy path.

Unfortunately for her with her track of clumsiness, she should have minded her steps as much as the pathway because a bump on the soil from a half embedded rock just a short distance from the first step of the porch, caught her footing; her arms went flying sideways in an effort of regain her balance, but still made her land on the disgusting mud—flat on her face.

It took several minutes to grasp what had happened to her, gather her wits, and pick her filthy self up from the ground, anger and frustration boiling within her at her predicament. But she willed herself to relax, no matter how screwed up things are. You maybe clumsy by nature but it'll get better soon, Gabriella. She mentally chided as she reached the low steps of the house, dragging her muddy self further up to the door and seeing no doorbell to press, she tapped the screen hard to be heard by the caretaker. Breathe. Just breathe. You'll be clean and comfy once you get in.

To Gabriella's relief, it opened a few minutes later to reveal another living and breathing human being, silhouetted in the mellow orange light. "Thanfft goofftnessft." She gushed while continually wiping the mud that formed on her lids, nose and lips with her also muddy hands. "I need…pffft… help with…pffft… my things."

"You have the wrong house." The man spoke a little wary at first probably because of her appearance then with curtness before promptly slamming the door to her face.

"What the—" She muttered, dumbfounded by the sudden bang of the door but she recovered quickly to knock again. This time much harder and repeatedly.

As soon as the door swung open, Gabriella was ready to deliver a string of words as harsh as the rain pounding on and around the house and demand to the rude caretaker that he let her in as she's a n expected guest and to get her things at once. She had every right to be incensed. But when she looked up to the irate face of the tall, well built man in a V-neck grey shirt and dark track pants, the tirade died in her throat and her brain shrieked in utter incredulity.

Oh my God! She wanted to discredit her vision because of the mud around her eyes but several furious blinks later didn't change the face she was seeing and neither did he disappear altogether like she wanted. Troy fucking Bolton!

"What are you doing here?!" Gabriella demanded indignantly, ignoring the taste of mud on her lips as she pushed past to shove him out of the door's way with as much force she could muster while he seems to be juggling between disgust for her muddy appearance, annoyance for her obduracy to enter the house, and trying to search his memory if he knew her or not.

"Who the hell are you?!" He demanded in return as he took purposeful steps straight for her standing under the stairs that led to the second floor rooms, noting her hands placed firmly on her waist in an aggressive posture.

Gabriella could see the determined intention to drag her out of the house if she dissents any further. "Don't touch me!" She fired at him, stepping away from his grasp as he reached for her. Her eyes shooting daggers at him. "Stay away from me!"

"Oh don't worry, Miss." He drawled, irritated and Gabriella recognized the strained patience on his face and tone of voice like one he'd show for a pesky saleswoman who suddenly appeared at his door while he was taking a nap and he wasn't interested in buying whatever it is she was selling. "I'll drag you out by the back of your shirt. In case you haven't noticed, you are covered in mud. I have no plans of laying my hands on your filthy self."

And to Gabriella's shock, he did just that. Her weight and strength and the tension from the travel she went thru proving her efforts at wriggling free of his rough hold futile. He grabbed the back of her shirt tight making the shirt's collar push close to her neck, almost choking her. He practically pushed her out the door and toward the steps with very little effort on his part until she was out under the rain again, water flowing like rivulets from her scalp down to her face.

He pointed a warning finger at her and firmly ordered, "Leave. Whoever you are, you have the wrong house."

"Montez." She huffed glaring at him as the heavy rain began to gradually wash away the muck from her face, the front of her previously pristine white and expensive designer shirt and from her arms and legs exposed by her shorts.

"What?" Troy yelled to be heard above the rain then quickly dismissed the question as inconsequential with a flick of the hand and he turned his back on her to go head inside the house.

"This is a set-up!" She shouted to the heavens but it was meant for Tim and Ryan. She thought the travel was bad and the weather terrible but finding Troy Bolton in the house where she's supposed to spend weeks in is absolute tragedy for her.

The man, regardless of the fact that he's her boyfriend's brother, is an unqualified toad and since high school Troy had made it quite clear to her in ways both cruel and unusual that he doesn't like her and he takes pleasure in tormenting her. Where Tim was sweet, kind and a great friend, Troy was rude and a swaggering jerk. They were opposites. One is Gabriella's friend and the other her nemesis. Never mind that before high school, they were almost inseparable.

The fact that they haven't seen each other for more than five years didn't diminish her hate for him. It was not easy to forget him—as much as she wants to—or the pranks he pulled on her. She didn't want to admit it to any of their common friends or even to herself that up until now after years of not seeing and not communicating with him at all, she's only managed to set him aside in her mind. Not a prevalent thought but nevertheless, still there.

Before this, she was so sure if time comes for them to meet again, she'd have enough self control to ignore him. Be apathetic. Show him she isn't the same shy, tame Gabriella he used to enjoy tormenting and who let him torment her. She swore she wouldn't be affected in the least bit but as of this moment seeing him unexpectedly under circumstances not exactly in her favor, the hate immediately surged through with renewed force along with a whole lot of other things crossing her mind.

She blames him for this awful weather too and she doesn't care how illogical that is.

Troy swung around at the sudden yell thinking she was accusing him of trespassing in the house. He was about to give her a piece of his mind for her imprudent gall to blame him of anything when he's the one who opened the door for her in the first place, not the other way around. "Look—" But he stopped short shocked by a familiar sight then a second later, he took an uncertain step forward gazing intently to better see her face through the faint illumination and the sheets of rain separating them.

Gabriella contemplated on scooping a handful of mud from the ground and slinging it at him just to release some of her anger before she goes back to the rented jeep and drive to Round Hill Village she passed on the way there. She could find some decent lodging for the night then take the earliest ride back to the city. But as much satisfaction she may derive from mud throwing she curbed the urge to do so, deciding to just leave because knowing him it wouldn't change anything. He'd still have the house—for whatever reason he was there in the first place—and no matter how hungry, exhausted and frustrated she is, there's no way in hell she'll stay there with him.

But before she could move from the spot where her sneakers had already made a deep impression on the wet soil, Troy's face suddenly broke out into a bright smile, surprising her and weirding her out at the same time.

When he didn't speak and just continued to stare at her with a mix of astonishment, disbelief and delight as if he was actually pleased by her sudden arrival, Gabriella spoke angrily through the rain cascading past her lips. "What the hell are you smiling at?"

It even looked like he was amused by her question and in her current grimy state and foul mood, she found the smile not just condescending but malicious too. But when he spoke, "Gabriella" in a smooth voice to imply he now recognized her, she hated to admit was still familiar to her ears only with a deep, more mature resonance to it. She stiffened at his awed tone, her mind choosing to remind her of a time during her sophomore year in gym class where he sneakily dropped a foul smelling bug inside her shirt making her stink like a skunk the entire day in school and the center of unwarranted attention. "And here I am again the victim of your nasty jokes!"

He seemed taken aback by her words but then without warning he marched down the steps, grabbed her by the arm a little roughly, not giving her any chance to protest, and firmly deposited her on the chair out on the porch. "Sit still." He ordered, after flipping his hair from his eyes with a sideways jerk of the head, shocking Gabriella into stunned silence.

He went back inside the house and a few minutes later reemerged with a large dark blue towel. "Here." He tossed the towel over to her which landed on her lap. Staring at it like she's trying to figure out what it was used for, Gabriella found herself taking the towel and wrapping it over her head and shoulders.

She realized she had been shaking from being soaked to the skin by the rain but the unanticipated thoughtful gesture from Troy, the last person she expected to extend some sort of kindness to her, she loathe to admit, was comforting if not life saving at the moment.

"You better go inside and shed those clothes." Troy said matter-of-factly. "I came here for some sun and relaxation but this awful weather just ruined that for me. Although as an alternative, I don't plan on spending my time here nursing you back to health in case you catch pneumonia or whatever it is people catch from staying out under the cold rain too long."

Gabriella stood up from the chair on shaky knees but held her ground as she spat, "I'm not staying here with you. I'll dry myself, take a bath and change clothes because I need to then I'll be out of your space." She skimmed her eyes throughout the house. "This place is all yours."

He chuckled and it even looked like he was amused by her little speech.

"What's so funny?" She snapped, wrapping the towel tighter around her slumped shoulders. She was too furious with his stanch coolness and his smirking face that she didn't even consider feeling embarrassed for her clumsiness or how she must look right now. They had been in similar situations all too many times in the past than she would care to recount. She's the victim and he's the tormentor who finds amusement in her sorry state.

He grinned eyeing her from head to toe. "You."

She gritted her teeth to stop the involuntary trembling of her jaw and forced words past her teeth. "Nothing new." Then she turned her back on him going through the screen door and made her way to the stairs. He was still the same inconsiderate jerk she knew him to be. Age didn't change his level of maturity or the way he treated her.

"Rooms are upstairs. Take the one to your left" He called out.

* * * * * *

Troy did his best to keep the sudden smile to himself lest he gets another cut-through-steel glare from Gabriella. Not that he couldn't handle her ire because he could but he felt smiling wouldn't be appropriate reaction to her predicament. He hasn't seen her in years and the last time he did she looked entirely different. The last time he saw her, her brunette locks were shorter and a bit on the unruly side. She also wore glasses and braces. She never utters a word to him and acknowledges his existence only with a glare. And he understands the general dislike of him.

He doesn't have a very pleasant opinion of her either.

But the Gabriella he recognized after that muck on her face got washed off by the rain was a complete surprise to him. She was stunning and that's putting it mildly considering the traces of mud still evident on the sides of her face and her now long hair plastered wet to her head like she's a proverbial drowned rat. Being neighbors, their parents friends, he'd known her since they were kids and although he had never voiced it aloud, showed his appreciation or hinted in the least bit to their respective family or common friends, he had always thought of her as pretty.

Yet in that short, unpleasant exchange, it was startling to discover she's no longer the timorous girl he used to goad in high school, the girl who makes it a point to breeze through East High unnoticed, the girl who chose his brother over him. Even with the mud all over her, she stood confident, unapologetic and ready to put him in his place. Also having seen her up close, he very much doubts if she could still walk anywhere unnoticed.

For a writer, there's no way she can be described as 'literary looking'. And that added to his revelation.

With a faint grin, he watched her trudge up the stairs with awkward steps, the water and the remnants of mud on her clothes weighing her down a bit, and he deliberated with himself if he should remind her that her things are still in the vehicle she came with which means she has nothing to change into after the bath she's about to do in the bathroom upstairs.

At the top of the stairs, aware that his eyes were on her, she threw him a seething glance over her shoulders before she disappeared in one of the empty rooms with a loud bang of the door which helped Troy decide not to remind her of anything. She will realize it soon enough.

Troy walked over to the screen door, grimacing at the spots of mud that lined the porch from Gabriella's muddy sneakers which she also left there. The caretaker had some extra cleaning to do. He thought; before closing the door then moving to the stone designed fireplace to warm is hands, thinking why she came to the Evans' cabin. He had been here several times over the years when he needs a retreat from the city life, although this time is different because his reason for coming was to give his mind a rest from the rollercoaster he went thru with the recent breakup with his girlfriend Caitlin Harding.

He had called Sharpay Evans, a close friend since high school, to tell her of his plan to retreat at the house, not really for permission since the place is hardly occupied by any of the Evans family but just for courtesy and for Sharpay to tell Ernie, the caretaker, that he was coming.

The arrangement was made. Ernie and his wife, Ruth, who lived a good walking distance from the cabin had been informed according to Sharpay. And like the previous times he had been here, the couple will make sure Troy doesn't starve and will keep the place clean. But just as Ruth left the house after she cooked him dinner, rain poured and he knew his plans will have to change if the weather continues.

Gabriella's arrival though was something he did not expect at all. Sharpay hadn't mentioned it during any of their conversations in the past few days which means she probably doesn't know Gabriella was also coming here. His brother Tim probably would have said something to him if they were still cordial to each other, which they're not, or advised Gabriella against her trip but given that only Sharpay knew of his plans and it wasn't like Tim to offer information to him about Gabriella's whereabouts, their paths finally crossed again.

If his knowledge serves him right, he's sure this is her first time being here. But as for her purpose or reason for choosing this place as a respite on the same day he decided to be here, he'll charge it up to coincidence for now.

With their history, Troy knows to a degree of certainty that Gabriella would not have come if she had a clue he was scheduled to be here. The fire shooting from her liquid brown eyes not only warned him she hasn't forgotten any of his transgressions during their younger years but also to keep his distance.

He thought it was childish of her to be nursing ill will for him after all these times. Given that the hate is mutual, he has more reason to not want anything do with her than she does with him but she's acting like he did her a tremendous disservice and she's an innocent. He finds it laughable and irritating at the same time.

They're mature adults. Way past the awkward teenage years. She's an award winning writer and he's an in-demand architect for a high profile architectural firm so whatever either of them did in the past should be irrelevant at this time in their lives. For his part, though everything that happened between them had hurt him like hell, he had long ago chalked it up to irrational teenage behavior so that he can forget about her and move on with his life. He liked to think he succeeded in doing that.

Apparently though, the wayward smile that broke over his lips while she stood under the deluge that washed away most of the mud covering her face, she considered offensive.

He couldn't blame her for thinking that since he's not exactly without fault but he couldn't stop his smile either or the leap of delight—unwanted delight—he felt when he realized it was her under all that mud. She obviously doesn't share the same glee taking from her speech of leaving the cabin as soon as she's done cleaning herself but as of this time, with the rain pounding like crazy, she doesn't really have much of a choice.

He's not letting her leave the house with this kind of weather raging outside. If he has to fight her for his decision to stand, then so be it.

But first, for her to have to want to listen, he has to take care of her belongings.

Grabbing an umbrella from the coat closet, Troy headed out of the house to get her things inside the jeep. It took three trips to unload all her stuff which included two rather large suitcases and a box that contained a portable printer. He set them by the foot of the stairs wondering why Gabriella would bring a printer on her vacation.

Unless she didn't come here for a vacation.

Troy frowned a bit. He knew her as someone who has always been dedicated to whatever she set her mind to and determined to stretch her limits even if it meant foregoing sleep or neglecting her health. It's like she's constantly proving herself to others no matter what it entails. He thinks it's a stupid thing for her to do then and after coming to the conclusion that she's most likely here to work on a story, his opinion remains.

* * * * * *

Unbelievable! I don't believe this! Gabriella mumbled for what seemed like the fifteenth time as she stood inside the confines of the bathroom staring at her grimy face in the paneled mirror.

Troy is here. Why is he here? How can this happen? What the hell happened to the caretaker that was supposed to be around for her arrival? She refused to believe Tim or Ryan would set her up like this with the person they know she can't stand. They have always taken her side and have been very protective of her even before. Especially Tim who more often than not defended her against Troy's pranks and does his best to make an older brother realize what an ass he's being to her.

No, they couldn't have planned this encounter. This is purely coincidence. A tragic coincidence.

She sighed heavily, taking control of her emotions and placed the towel beside the marble sink. Deciding to just get on with that bath so she can leave soon, she pulled off her shirt and bra with a grimace and dropped it on the floor then she fumbled with the button of her shorts but halted her actions a second afterward.

A soft rap sounded through the door followed by Troy's voice which caused Gabriella to gasp and instinctively grab the towel to cover herself. "Your suitcases are here." He said then she heard him moving around the room probably setting her bags somewhere.

Gabriella stayed frozen inside the bathroom, trying to make out the sounds coming from the bedroom, groaning softly as she realized Troy just did her a favor by hauling her bags into the room since she neglected to bring up a change of clothes. Was she meant to thank him now?

"Ella, your printer is on the bed." He informed her next.

His reference to her by the same pet name her mother uses did not ring too well in Gabriella's ears. Gritting her teeth at his audacity, she secured the towel around her chest and hastily buttoned her shorts back in place before she yanked the door open and stepped into the room, surprising Troy who was standing directly by the bathroom door.

He took a step back and glanced up, raking his eyes over her with interest.

"I'm leaving after I have my bath." She said firmly but feeling suddenly self conscious under his perusing blue eyes with only a towel covering her upper body. Her arms crossed over her chest, one hand holding the tops of the towel, making sure it won't suddenly come loose. "Thank you for bringing my things but this is a wasted effort."

Troy pursed his lips for a second thinking of a better way to respond to her chilly retort. Then as if to copy her, he crossed his arms over his chest drawing Gabriella's attention to the defined muscles he had acquired over the years. She was quick to snatch her gaze back to his face as he said with finality, "You are not leaving."

The unwanted blush that crept unto her cheeks at the sight of his muscled arms disappeared as quickly as it came and her brown eyes narrowed livid. She didn't trust herself to speak for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"You are not leaving." He repeated calmly but firmly, holding her irate gaze.

Instead of chucking sarcastic words at him and starting an argument she had no energy to see through, she pluckily retorted, "Watch me." Then turned away from him towards the bathroom.

But Troy refused to leave it at that. He was quick to bodily block her entrance to the bathroom and meet her withering glare. "Who do you think you are?!" She spat, no longer able to contain the anger and frustration boiling inside her.

"A friend." He readily responded, unfazed by her ire. But when Gabriella scoffed, he added with a trace of exasperation. "Think what you will of me, Gabriella, but I am not letting you leave this place to drive downhill through the darkness in this nasty rain." It wasn't a plea rather information of what he will do if she decides to be stubborn. "You hate that I'm here. You don't want to be here. But you'll have to suck it up because there's no way in hell I'm letting you out of this house tonight until the weather clears."

For a brief second, Gabriella was ready to counter but when his meaning set in, her brows furrowed. He didn't say he also hated that she's there. He spoke as if the hate isn't mutual when they both know their hate runs on a two way street.

Troy looked like he was prepared to lock her in, tie her to a post or wrestle her if necessary just to get her to stay put and the concern in his tone was equally as evident. Yet another unexpected thing from him. She didn't want to believe it. She wished she could discount his words because it's easier to insult him like she had always planned on doing just to extract some revenge. This display of concern for her well being and gentlemanliness when he brought her things up the room was such a farfetched notion that she was unsure how to take it.

But even with all these thoughts running inside her head, common sense told her it was foolish to navigate her way down to the village for the very reason he stated.

Troy saw the uncertainty, skepticism and the internal debate of what to do in her eyes but he didn't say anymore. She can ponder all she wants, discredit his concern, give motives to his consideration . . . all of which she's entitled to . . . but he will make sure she stays. They may not have the friendliest relationship but despite the history of disputes, disparaging remarks and pranks—mostly initiated by him—he had once considered her a very close friend. And that being so, it was natural for Troy to insist on what he knows is safe for her.

Plus, of course, when she goes, much as he wants to, he can't just sit idly knowing the dangers she'll be exposed to in a place foreign to her and with the weather bogging down on the area like there's no tomorrow. What kind of a man or friend will he be if he just let her go?

"Fine." She muttered after a while. "Now please move so I can have my bath."

Troy did. And as soon as she closed the bathroom door, he released a breath of relief he didn't realize he was holding and slowly made his way out of the room with a frown on his face. It's one of two things . . . this getaway can either be an interesting second shot at friendship or it could take a really bad turn.

He was surprised to find himself hoping it's the first one.

* * * * * *