AN: Sorry it's so late. Much love.
CHAPTER 2: TOMORROW
Gabriella was ambitious, to put it simply. She was driven by ambition, motivated by ambition, pulled back and pushed forward by ambition. Some may even say she lived for it - hence why she walked into New York University at the age of eighteen with her held high and her heart pounding quietly with an ambition to become a lawyer by succeeding in economics before she had any further inclination of pursuing law school.
But it was Gabriella Montez's ambitious dream of becoming a lawyer that drove her to read prestigious law books, alongside her economics textbooks, for "fun." It drove her further towards her worldly goals and further away from the Manhattan home of her parents.
However, the sentiment she had towards her childhood didn't allow her to drive far, this posed as a reason as to why, at the age of adulthood, she made the life defining choice to not leave New York.
Two and a half, give or take a few months, sitting on a bed alone, surrounded by three text books, Gabriella sat cross legged, a fountain pen in her right hand and her cell phone in the other.
"No, Taylor."
A sigh passed through her lips as she released the pen from her hand and switched the phone so it rested within her right palm.
"Yes, Taylor."
A rolling of her wondrous brown eyes followed.
"Taylor, I didn't-"
Had anyone been in the room, they would have found it obvious that Gabriella was frustrated, and it was also clear that she wasn't trying to hide it.
"Taylor, listen. You need to relax. I am fine. Whatever you heard from my mother was absolute nonsense. I am not over working myself, nor am I... How did she put it, again? Oh, yes... Nor am I 'driving myself downhill to depression.' I am great, really. Other than the fact that my mother's nagging me over my Sunday schedules, I do not feel pressured or stressed at all."
There was a long pause before the person on the other end of the line spoke.
"Honey, I think I need to be concerned if you're a third year economics student and aren't feeling stressed," Taylor remarked, laughing slightly.
Gabriella smiled, not acknowledging the fact that her friend couldn't see her.
"Nothing that's over bearing, I swear," she responded, "I'm very happy."
"Now that sounds like the phrase of a woman who's found a man!" Taylor exclaimed, "Ooh, girl, who is it?"
Gabriella bit her lip nervously, it was times like these that she appreciated the comfort of having a roommate who only stayed in the room when necessary, for example, hours of sleep between one and nine in the morning.
"There's no man, don't be ridiculous, Taylor. There will never be a man."
The way in which she spoke her words had no spite towards the idea and instead, it made it sound as if she liked the idea under certain circumstances.
It was a facade she had taken years to build so that she could hide behind: The good little Christian girl who never dated outside of those whom her parents approved of. The only "man in her life" other than those of blood relations and close family friends, would be the man who went to church, had the same upbringing as her and the same attitudes as her parents, who would be devoted to God and who would act as her superior and nothing less.
And she was supposed to want that.
In her eyes, there was nothing wrong with a God-loving man who fiercely stuck by the book. But it was the other expectations, people, such as her parents, would expect in a husband for their only daughter.
The superiority they would gain.
The strict regime.
The lack of freedom.
The lack of ambition.
The lack of the life she wanted.
The life her parents wanted.
"I know, girl. I admire your ability to say true to yourself in a city filled with fine, fine men. Damn..." Taylor breathed out, letting her words stay in the air.
Gabriella giggled ever so slightly, easing the tension she knew was building in the mind of her loyal friend. "God has saved me, I guess," She responded lightly, "I don't even myself attracted to the men, they act like pigs a lot of the time."
"I know what you mean, it's like they've never seen the opposite sex before!"
The laughed together quietly before the silence settled.
Moments passed before either spoke again.
"So, you're happy, Gabi?
It was in this moment that Gabriella thought the Troy. The same Troy whose bed she'd been in on Monday night, the same Troy who she had painfully seen publicly the next day, on Tuesday, at a coffee shop and the same Troy who she was going to see tomorrow night - Her happiness.
"Yeah, Taylor. I am." She giggled for a second, "You worry too much."
Taylor sighed on the other end of the line, "Oh, the curse of being maternal (!)"
The two childhood friends laughed together, a reminder to the brunette sitting in Manhattan that some people would always be by your side.
\/\/\/\
"Mr Bolton, you have a call on line 2 from Mr Danforth?"
"I'll take it, Kelsi, thank you."
At the age of twenty five, Troy Bolton didn't expect that he'd be making thousands of dollars a day in the world of business on Wall Street, but there he was, in his own desk in his own private office and was one of the youngest people of his job.
He had a secretary, his own team, he was living in a penthouse and his parents were proud of him to no end.
Troy Bolton would even go as far as to say his life was nearly perfect. Nearly.
His relationship with his lover, a communications student four years younger than him, was an undisclosed fact that he enjoyed keeping to himself. He enjoyed keeping her to himself.
Although his life wasn't perfect, she was.
He remembered the way that she laid beneath him three nights prior, breathing his name and dependently holding onto him as she unravelled in their post coitus bliss. He remembered how she'd followed him into his bathroom, tiptoeing in his work shirt and her bright blue socks, and wrapped her arms around him from behind, affectionately burying her head into his back as he brushed his teeth with his right hand and caressed her hands with his left.
Snapping out of his memory, Troy looked down to his phone and rolled his eyes, casually picking it up with a "What, Chad?"
"Someone's in a bad mood," Chad responded from the other end of the line.
"Chad, c'mon..." Troy warned,
"Chill, man. Bad day, I get it. You wanna talk about it?" the voice offered friendlily, a humorous tone to his voice.
Troy relaxed back in his chair and crossed his right ankle over his left leg, "No."
Chad chuckled heartily, "Oh, jeez. The stick called Wall Street is so up your ass today."
"Chad, what do you want? I have to meet up with someone in ten minutes."
Chad made an excited sound on the other end of the telephone line, "Ooh, someone. Business person?"
"No."
"Potential business person?"
"Nope."
Chad gasped, "Romantic interest?"
"What the fuck? No, man." Troy murmured, running through his free hand through his hair that usually got messier as each hour passed.
Chad sigh exasperated, "Then who?" He asked childishly, and Troy could imagine him stomping his foot to the ground like he did when they were children and Chad wanted ice cream.
"My mother!"
"Oh."
Troy and Chad had known each other since birth. Their fathers were friends, their mothers were friends, so naturally, growing up, they had to get along or die trying. Luckily for the Danforths and the Boltons, Chad and Troy clicked the moment they acknowledged each other's existence.
"Why did you call, Chad?" Troy asked, looking at the expensive he had taken off earlier and laid on his desk.
"Umm... I can't even remember..." Chad muttered, "Wait! Dinner, tomorrow, that's why I called. You down for it?"
Troy, sick of his friend, rolled his eyes, "Yeah, sure, what-" he paused. Gabriella. "No, man, I just remembered I have some really important things to do tomorrow night. Oh, look, my mom's calling my cell now, I have to go, I'll see you soon and yes, I'll tell mom you said hi. Bye Chad." Chucking the phone stressfully back, he leaned into his comfortable chair and swore to the heavens above. And he still had lunch with his mother to attend to.
Grabbing his black suit jacket from the back of his chair, Troy stood and left his office, loosening his grey tie in the process.
"Kelsi, I'm off for lunch with my mother. Just take a message from anyone who calls. And," he paused to look at his watch. One in the afternoon. "I expect you out of the office by the time I come back, you came in early today."
Kelsi, his secretary, smiled gratefully, "Thank you, Mr Bolton, I'll be sure to do so. Enjoy your lunch."
Troy looked at the tiny woman, a smile gracing his lips, "Will do," he nodded before exiting the office and stepping out onto the infamous Wall Street.
He walked like a man on a mission to the small cafe his mother had recommended earlier, which was a bit further out than he was used to, but he didn't mind the walk, it was a refreshing break from being in an office or a meeting room all the time.
The cafe was a corner shop twenty minutes away from his office and was relatively empty and he spotted a dark head of hair framing a long, kind-looking face.
A childish look on his face appeared at the site of his mother and he approached her with a "Hey Momma" and a gentle peck to the cheek.
Lucille Bolton gasped as her son swiftly greeted her and sat in the empty space in front of her where she had been staring previously, awaiting his coming.
"Troy!" she exclaimed quietly, but gleefully, before her lips turned into a mock frown, "Look at you, nearly giving your old mother a heart attack!"
Troy smiled opposite her and rolled his eyes, "You're hardly old, Mom."
"Hardly," Lucille scoffed.
"Hardly," Troy emphasised, cheekily winking.
Lucille grabbed a menu from the stand in between the two and lightly tapped his head with it, "I think you need some food to tone down that cheekiness, son."
Grinning he took the menu from his mother, "I think so too. I'm starved."
Lucille looked up from her own menu, "I hope not..." she said seriously, raising a single eyebrow at her only son.
"Mother..." Troy warned, "Not today..."
"Sweetie, I'm worried, how can you expect me not to be. You're single, living alone and making more money than most people your age and you're still a... What's the phrase your father used...? Oh, a loner."
Troy's eyebrows rose slightly amused as he watched his mother eye him carefully, "Mom... I'm fine. I'm not a loner, in fact, Chad and I are hanging out this weekend," he lied. Troy hated lying to his mother, but it had to be done. For her sake.
"Chad?" Lucille chuckled, "Troy, Chad doesn't count. I meant new friends and maybe a lady friend?"
"He says hi, by the way. I don't want new friends. I don't trust anyone. And lady friend? Seriously? I'm not five." Troy responded, trying not to let his mother's concerns get to him, and beckoned over a waiter, saying his order. "I'll have the chicken and pesto tagliatelle, Mom?"
"The wild mushroom risotto sounds nice..."
"Excellent, we'll have one of those. Two fresh orange juices too please."
There was only three other people in the homely Italian cafe. Two muscled teenage boys in the corner eating enormous amounts of cake and every now and then Troy heard the phrase "its cheat day today" coming from them, and an elderly woman who sat on a stool near the counter sipping a warm drink. The atmosphere was comfortable and quiet.
The mother and son duo sat at their table, individually polishing their plates of any food and clearing their glasses of any drink.
"Dessert?" Lucille offered once the waiter approached to collect their plates.
Troy, who had been admiring the comfortable decor of the cafe, snapped out of his thoughts, and looked to his mother with a relaxed stare, "Uh, you choose."
Lucille smiled gleefully, "Two caramel panna cottas please with a side of biscotti."
The waiter, who couldn't have been older than seventeen, nodded and walked off with their dirty plates and dessert order.
"Salted caramel?" Troy said, his bottom lip jutted out slightly, childishly.
"It's always good to try new things, Troy. Chocolate cake will always be waiting, but," Lucille looked down at her menu to reassure herself that she was indeed naming the dish correctly, "Panna cotta will disappear one day."
Troy rolled his eyes playfully, and just as he was about to respond, his phone buzzed next to him on the table, signalling a text.
"Tomorrow." It read.
He didn't need to see the contact name to know who it was from.
AN: Special thanks to Chri5tin3 for her review which made me so happy and in times where I lacked motivation, motivated me. Also, pumkinking5, I hope this clears everything up. :) Thanks to everyone for their reviews and please continue to do so. Love love love, Amy.