So, I was watching Wimbledon the other day, and suddenly got this idea. It's probably really bad, but I thought, 'Oh well, just get some creative energy out there'. Tehe. So, yeah, read & review, please…
Opposite Sides Of The Net.
A Troyella Oneshot.
Gabriella felt the hem of her white shorts rub against her toned thighs and she smiled as she stepped through the gym door. Her bag was resting gently on her shoulder, the strap occasionally rubbing uncomfortably, making her wince. But it didn't matter. Her white trainers squeaked across the polished floor, the wood shining up at her.
She dropped her bag at the side, a bang following from the drop. She smiled as she dipped down to her knees, the cold flooring tingling on her kneecaps. The zip on her bag was forced open, her small, fragile hands delving in. Out came a racket and her tennis balls. The racket felt secure in her hand, like she was born to have it there. Dropping it to the floor, her took the tennis balls out of the bag, the bright yellow/green fluff resting on her palms, tickling her Latino skin. Grabbing her racket one more, she rose from the floor and turned around.
The room was pretty large, and the white walls smelt of used sweat. In the middle of the room was the net, tied up safely onto each side of the room, with only a little room at the sides for you to move in and out. The door at the other side was made of metal, reflecting at her and as the sun light came through the windows on the roof, the metal twinkled. Sighing, she turned back around, grabbing her water bottle and stuffing the balls into the small pockets of her shorts. She was ready.
The squeak of the door opening and the door jamming up against the wall alerted Gabriella, telling her someone had entered the room. Her ears pricked for movement, but there was none. Her feet turned her around to face her companion, and her stomach fell.
Troy Bolton.
His caramel hair fell down into his right eye so he had to keep flicking it away. His white t-shirt clung to his well defined muscles sculpted onto his torso. His shorts stuck onto his thighs, and his white sneakers decorated his feet. His stance was tall and uncertain. It was clear he hadn't been expecting anyone else to be there, and neither had Gabriella. But as his large blue, menacing eyes captured hers, which were filled with anger and hurt, she heard him sigh and saw his shoulders slump. Adrenaline pumped though her veins, the anger spreading. It was clear to her that he had forgotten the misery he had put her though every year, every month and every day of the last 3 years. It didn't matter that they were now Seniors, she still remembered. Very clearly in fact. And she couldn't help but be angered by the fact that he could stand there looking completely at ease, when she, his victim, was only steps away.
"What are you doing here?" She spat with all the repulsion she felt spilling into her voice. She wanted to make him pay. Wanted him to feel even just one millimetre of the pain and hurt she'd gone through.
He winced slightly at her tone. "I'm here to play tennis. What are you doing here?" He replied with the same tone as her, but the effect it had on her was… nothing. It seemed it only worked when she was up against more than one.
She crossed her arms when she saw his eyes take over her body. "Funnily enough, being in the tennis room, I'm here to play tennis too." Sarcasm was heavy in her voice, and it no longer seemed small and angelic like it usually was.
He walked over to the opposite side of the room from Gabriella. Dumping his bag in the corner, he took out his racket and orange balls. Turning back to her, he walked closer to the court.
"That's fine, we can play against each other. It'll be nice to have someone to thrash for once." He cockiness wasn't lost on Gabriella. She felt a smirk turn onto her lips and she took her stance.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Bolton." She stood up and served, it hitting the back of the court but not outside the lines, with her gaining an immediate point. She watched as Troy's eyes bulged out their sockets.
"And I thought I was playing an amateur."
She laughed ironically while he bent down to retrieve her ball, and throw it back to her, which she caught with ease. "It just shows how little you actually know about me."
"I know more than you think." He replied, taking stance, ready to play.
She shook her head, while running the balls in between her fingers, feeling the fluff tickle her skin once more. "You only know what you want to know."
He eyed her, confused, as the ball she had just served flew passed him, her gaining yet another point. He shook his head, "Well, I definitely know you have force when you play. I also thought you were just a dancer, and obviously a geek, but thanks for the heads up."
She winced at the word 'geek' as she collected another ball from her pocket. "I use tennis to let out frustration, anger, and pain."
She looked at him with a pained expression and he knew at once what she was talking about. The endless fights they'd had together, each one Gabriella had lost. The numerous times he'd shoved her up against walls and heard her cry out in pain. The times he'd watched as his 'friends' punched her in the stomach, wanting her lunch money. And the times she'd look at him with all the pain she'd gone through and make him feel sick. Just like she was doing now.
He watched her small and fragile body go to pick up her water bottle, her shirt riding up as she leant down. His eyes shot up to the large blue and black bruise he spied and realised he'd been the one to give her that, yesterday morning to be exact. When she turned around, she followed his gaze and once she knew what he'd saw, she pulled her top down immediately, getting rid of the evidence.
He pointed to it. "Does that hurt?" He sounded so small, and so... guilty. It was strange.
She shrugged, the way she did every time her mother noticed the bruising and gave her the third degree on how it had got there. "Of course it hurts. It's not a walk in the park to be hit, punched and ridiculed every day."
He ran his hand through his hair at her words. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Seeing she had no balls left in her pocket, and she had nothing more to say, he served to her, with her hitting back , and real game commencing.
Troy won that round, and he heard Gabriella groan. "What? I couldn't let you win all the time." He said incredulously, a cocky smile beaming off his face.
"You don't have to bully me all the time, either." She whispered into the ground, but it echoed off the walls, and he heard what she'd said.
He looked down with her, and quietly whispered back. "Maybe you could… like, I don't know… fight back against me, or the others."
He looked up quickly when he heard her snort. "Oh yeah, that would work. Just what I wanted, right? To be shoved into another group of lockers after saying something back to them. You know Troy, sometimes you just stun me with your wisdom."
He sighed, looking around for more tennis balls. "It's not nice to hear you scream, Gabriella. I don't get the thrill you think I do."
Her eyebrows arched. "Really? You don't? Because I was under the impression that you did. Silly, silly me. But then, of course that brings up the question of 'Why the hell do you do it then?'. Not that I'm asking. Maybe I could scream you're name while you punch me. Would that work for you?"
He smirked. "I have had thoughts about you screaming me name, actually. They are very... interesting, shall we say." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She rolled her eyes while she stood back to admire his body. The one she hated every inch of, but wanted at the same time. She hated the things he made her feel. She got bullied by him nearly every day, and somehow, for some reason she knew nothing of, he made her heart flutter. It was useless of course. Loving him would never get her anywhere. That's probably why no one knew.
She looked down before she replied. "You'd never get near enough to me for me to scream you're name in ecstasy."
"Do you want me to get closer, Gabriella?" His eyes locked on hers.
Her eyes widened. "No, you're fine where you are. Just stay there, thanks." He shrugged his shoulders to act like he didn't care, but he couldn't deny the pain he felt in his chest at her words.
She served again and they started to play once more. After about twenty minutes of silence, and the game nearly over, Gabriella suddenly stopped playing, dodging the ball Troy just served to her. It hit the wall, the bang evident, but she just stared at him intensely.
Then she spoke the question she'd been wondering for the last three years. "Why do you do it though? Do I bother you that much. I mean, as far as I can see I've done nothing to you or your gang. Is it supposed to make me feel special - because it sure as hell doesn't." Anger pulsed through her skull, and it was evident in her brown orbs.
He threaded a few fingers through his hair, Gabriella watching as every hair flattened into place again. "Please don't be mad, baby."
Her fists clenched. "I'm not your 'baby'." Her mouth spat the words, and pain shot through his chest. "You didn't answer my question, Bolton." He realised they'd gone back to second names.
"I… I don't know. It's a power thing, and unfortunately it was you we picked. I'm… I'm sorry, Gabriella. It could have been anyone." he picked up a ball and got ready to serve.
"Oh, that makes me feel great." Tears stung her eyes at the realisation. "That's makes me feel much better. To know that even if I hadn't ended up here, if I wasn't here at all, you would have just picked someone else out of the crowd, and made their life as much of a misery as you have mine." She wanted to pick up her bags and run, run away from the situation and hope he wouldn't follow. Who was she kidding? He wouldn't follow even if she was made of gold.
"I…I, I…" He began to stutter, but couldn't find the words. Gabriella decided to finish the sentence for him.
"I hate you." The words flew out her mouth like lightning, and Troy was sure the strikes had hit him. The pain fluttered over his chest, lying down deeply. Meanwhile, Gabriella's bat had swung up and hit the ball at full force, nearly hitting him. The anger she felt was radiating in her kneecaps it was so strong. She felt faint with frustration and hurt.
Troy grabbed the ball she'd just hurled and served it back. He muttered while he swung, "Well, I love you." As soon as he said it he wished he could take it back. The realisation on Gabriella's beautiful features was hard to handle.
It was like slow motion.
Troy's words flew into her ears and time slowed down. The bat she held in her tight grasp fell to the floor clattering while the strength in her fingers failed. The ball came flying towards her, and her hand reached up and grabbed it, it hitting her palm hard and stinging with pain afterwards. She blinked her eyes while she stared at the boy in front of her. It was the first time she'd ever seen him look so… vulnerable. Disorientated. It shocked her almost as much as his words.
"Excuse me?" Her lips finally managed to move, somehow, and the words tumbled out. His eyes left the ground to look at hers and she saw his Adam's apple moved as he gulped.
"I said, that… well, I…love you." He looked embarrassed, and his face had flushed. She'd never seen him look so gorgeous. And she realised she should be jumping for joy that he'd finally said that. She'd been waiting for him to realise, hoping that one day he would. And he had, but all she could think of, and feel, were the tears slowly making their journey down her cheeks.
She didn't sob.
She didn't make any noises.
She just cried, her legs wobbling so much that eventually she just collapsed onto the floor in a helpless heap. And all he could do was watch. He seemed to be stuck to the floor.
Her trembling hands did nothing to wipe the tears away. In all the years she'd known him, thought about him and been bullied by him and his friends, she'd vowed she'd never cry. Never. But three simple words he utters and she breaks down. She didn't know why? Maybe it was the fact that she loved him? Or maybe it was the fact that the whole thing was rubbish, total rubbish. Their situation and everything about their 'relationship'. Him being the bully and her the victim.
Somehow he'd managed to get his legs to move, slowly but surely. Eventually he ended up beside her, standing over her, leaving a strong shadow on the polished flooring, which she was making wet. Her blurred eyes looked to the side to notice his trainers, and her shaky hands timidly stroked the Velcro. She had no idea why, and soon withdrew her hand.
He knelt down to her, sitting on his knees opposite her, and watched her drain away before putting two fingers below her chin lifting it to meet his gaze. "Don't use your tears on me. I'm so not worth it. I've put you through so much pain, I've been a jerk. A real jerk."
"Then how come my stupid heart still manages to love you?" Her voice was broken with ever word, but he still managed to make sense out of it. He felt his heart leap, but seeing the girl in front of him so broken made him refrain from jumping around.
Instead, he leaned closer and captured her trembling lips in a soft sensual kiss that meant the world to her. After breaking apart, their lips still faintly brushing, he mumbled, "I'm so sorry."
Her index finger outlined his jaw, their foreheads pressed together while he lapped up her tears with his thumb.
"Don't worry. You were already forgiven long ago."