Elle.
By Katie
Pairing: Troyella
Rating: K+
A/N: I want to dedicate this to my bestest buddy on this site, sweet-virginia-sparks, known to me as Ginny! She dedicated her amazin' Ryelsi to me, so I HAD to write something for her! And, also, I wrote a SharpayOC//Troypay-ish called Bad. I'll post that on Wednesday. And I'm workin' on another fic! I'm a busy gal!
Dedicated to sweet-virginia-sparks
Disclaimer: In my dreams I own HSM! No, really.
Elle
Being in love with someone you don't known is like breathing underwater. When you open your mouth to scream underwater, the sound is muffled. The same goes for falling in love with a stranger. You cry out for help, but the sound comes out funny, because it's like the stranger had their hand over your mouth.
Troy Bolton felt exactly that way. This girl named Gabriella had her fragile fingers curled over his lips. But he didn't mind one bit; he didn't want to scream for help anyway.
She was beautiful. No, scratch that. Exquisite. Long, ebony locks fell past her shoulders, ending just below her elbows. Big, chocolate eyes, dark and alight with wonder. She looked straight out of Elle magazine.
He would never see her again, most likely. He would never hear her wonderful, angelic voice again. His lips would never gently collide with hers, and their eyes would never lock again. Her long, graceful fingers would never intertwine with his. His class ring would never be put on a golden chain and hang around her neck.
Sure, he had her number, but would he call it? No. Because calling her would ruin the excitement she had unwittingly tossed into his life. Did he WANT to call her? He was using every muscle in his body to prevent himself from picking up his cell phone.
Troy didn't even know her last name. She would be known as Gabriella, and Gabriella only. He desperately wanted to know her last name.
He saw her walking up the steps earlier. She was with a woman, most likely her mother. He didn't follow her or say hi. He'd been way too nervous. His palms had been sweating like crazy, and his stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot.
No girl had ever done this to him. Well, one girl in third grade had. But only because that girl was a huge fourth grader and enjoyed pounding Troy and a few choice others into the ground. The very hard ground.
You might be surprised that even Troy's first girlfriend hadn't made his palms sweat or get him nervous. Her name had been Taylor McKessie, and she hadn't even dated Troy because she liked him.
They went out for three months during freshman year. But the only reason they went out was because Taylor had to actually be associated with someone on a sports team to join the Pep Club. Troy had never figured out WHY exactly Taylor wanted to be in the Pep Club. Probably to get to Chad. She'd had a crush on him when they were dating. Troy hadn't minded being used. He just thought it was cool that he had a girlfriend. Because Taylor...she was an excellent kisser. Chad was missing out.
Taylor and Gabriella were different. From what he'd gathered.
Gabriella seemed shy. She seemed like the kind of person who doesn't need to be accepted by other people. She seemed like the kind of person who wrote love songs, but never sang them. Gabriella was just a girl who enjoyed sitting back and watching all of her hard work in life come together. Gabriella seemed like a girl who, when she loved someone, she gave them her whole world.
He had talked to her for five minutes, and he was already analyzing her. He tended to do that.
Troy turned the faucet right, a shower of hot water pouring out of the shower-head. Maybe singing would get her off his mind. . Singing in the shower was one of his guilty pleasures. "Living in my own world; didn't understand. That anything can happen...when you take a-" Troy began, but caught himself. He was singing THAT song. "STOP IT! SHE'S GONE!" he yelled at himself, violently rubbing shampoo into his hair. "Troy, honey, something wrong in there?" his mouth asked, knocking on the door.
"Fine, Mother!" he called back. His mom was annoyingly alert.
He had to remind himself again.
He would never see her again, most likely. He would never hear her wonderful, angelic voice again. His lips would never gently collide with hers, and their eyes would never lock again. Her long, graceful fingers would never intertwine with his. His class ring would never be put on a golden chain and hang around her neck.
He would never again see the girl who looked straight out of Elle magazine.
Oh, how wrong he was.
Elle
So, what'd you think? Ginny, I hope you liked it! Because it took me a long time to perfect, and if you hate it, I'll be so mortified! And I hope the rest of you like it!