Chapter Two
Time passed quickly and before I knew it, Saturday was here. Miranda filled me in on her entire relationship with Troy, or T as she called him. It was the nickname his basketball team had given him, and it just stuck. She'd just gotten her student visa and was studying in the US when they met at one of his games. He leaped out right in front of her to catch a ball, but collided with her instead. She explained that from the moment their eyes met, she felt sparks and butterflies. They were together for the next two years, and to quote her, definitely the real thing.
Of course, I had no idea what she was talking about, but I still listened. I have never experienced what she was taking about. Feeling butterflies and sparks? That stuff is only for books and movies. I'd longed to find that feeling for the first two years after the transplant. I learned the hard way that guys don't find scars attractive or daring the way that girls might. The one on my chest was finally starting to fade, but I wouldn't be rushing into a bikini anytime soon. I felt a new appreciation for the cool autumn weather that graced southern California.
Anyway, Miranda finally told me about the day of the accident. She didn't leave anything out from the moment T came to see her that morning. Honestly, she could left out the intimate parts of that day, but I think she was just too into the story to consider that. I understand why she's so excited and anxious.
T was a huge part of her life, having him so close must be torture. Still, I'm not thrilled about being the go between. "Okay, I've got all my questions sorted." Miranda declares, propping herself up against the counter of the craft shop. We've got thirty minutes until people start arriving.
"Okay, let's hear them." I say, setting up the last of the work stations.
"Don't worry, I've got it covered." She smiles, and it's almost mischievous.
"Hate to break it to you, but I can't read your mind."
"Believe me, I know." Miranda rolls her eyes. "I just want the conversation to go smoothly."
"And you don't think I can achieve that?"
"You may have gotten around a bit back home, but you're rubbish at chatting with people." Miranda rolls her eyes and peeks through the blinds.
"I'm going to ignore the comment where you implied I was a slut." Squinting, I see that she's almost giggling.
"That's putting it loosely." She laughs again. "You're not the one that had to sit through it, every single time."
"Ha-ha." I turn back to focus on my work. I'm not the outgoing type. There was only one time I ever approached a guy on my own, and he asked if I was the Frankenstein girl. Needless to say, I haven't had the nerve to do it again. Unfortunately, Miranda still remembered the one guy I'd been with and liked to tease me about it. She found it funny that after being so, enthusiastic is the word she used, with him that I was timid with others. I know she remembers the Frankenstein incident though, she just chooses not to.
"Just find your opening."
"My opening?"
"Yeah, make a joke, or a compliment. Something to get him to pay attention to you." Of course Miranda thinks this is no big deal.
"You don't think it might be a tad too soon for compliments?" It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Why can't you just tell me what you want to know?"
"The conversation has to be natural. I can't tell you what to say. I have questions, but I'll only throw in the ones that fit with the topic." Times like these make me wish someone else could see her. Like Sharpay, she'd have no trouble getting answers from T. The door chimes and in walks a few costumers. I have them sign in and direct them to their stations. "Don't worry, I'll be here if you get stuck. I know him pretty well."
I turn to her. "You could make this whole thing easier if you just tell me!" I whisper sharply.
"Tell you what? His voice is deep and raspy. I turn slowly to face him, and my heart thumps. There's a crease in his brow that makes it painfully clear that he heard me.
"Sorry, just talking to myself." T's head cocks to the side. "I just keep dropping things. Feels like my hands are working against me." I chuckle, and he nods in agreement.
"Everyone has those days." He sighs. "Is this the sign in sheet?" He asks.
"Yes. I know she's young, but some of the kids get a kick out of signing in too."
"She couldn't make it. There's this art at night thing at her school. She went to it with her mom."
"I'm sure you niece would've liked this better." I feel sorry for him and offer a smile. T stops writing and stares at me.
"How'd you know she was my niece?" His questions kicks my sweat glands into high gear."
"Tell him he marked it on the paper." Miranda says from behind me. I'd forgotten she was there.
"Oh, you wrote it on the paper." T, places the pen down but keeps staring.
"Tell him it was on the emergency contact form he filled out!" She guides me.
"The emergency contact sheet? It was the last page." God, could I screw this up any worst? "I could go get it..." There's no emergency contact form, so I really hope he doesn't ask for it.
"No, that's not necessary." He blinks and shakes his head. "It's just been a long week."
"You don't have to stay for the craft. I could process a refund for you?" I start silently praying that he'll take the refund and leave.
"Gabriella!" Miranda screeches at me, but I don't even blink.
"Nah, I promised her I'd make a house for her." Just my luck! "You don't mind, do you?" He's already heading toward the table so I don't bother answering.
"You really mucked that one up, didn't you?" I'm not in the mood for Miranda and her British slang.
"Save it." I mumble. "It's your fault I'm in this mess."
"I didn't know you'd go blurting things out about him!" She laughs. Laughs! She finds this amusing! I grumble and make my way to the work center of the store to get things going.
The evening has been going smoothly. If I'm being honest, it's because I've been avoiding T like the plague. I'm still really embarrassed about earlier. Sure, my year and a half in the drama club with Shar has helped me cover my tracks, but I doubt he'll be open to conversing with me anytime soon.
"You're stalling." Miranda calls from the corner of the room. I glance at her and keep making my rounds. "Gabriella, you promised me."
"Miranda, this takes time." I mutter and smile at the customers. My eyes land on T. The sight of him, all sturdy and masculine, sitting in the periwinkle kiddy chair made me smile. His eyes are definitely focusing on the house. He's put it together, and is now contemplating the design. The thought of him struggling over which shade of pink he wants the roof of his house makes me giggle, loudly. T's eyes meet mine, and I cover my mouth with my hand. The corner of his mouth twitches, but without a word, he goes back to work. I decide not to push my luck and retreat back to the paper cutter.
"Gabriella, honestly, you're not even trying." Miranda complains and hops onto the counter.
"Randa, I can't just walk up to him, that'd be totally creepy." I mutter, carefully watching to make sure no one is listening.
"Just check on his progress, you do work here, don't you?" I roll my eyes at her sassy tone. She knew damn well I wasn't running this craft, and I was pretty sure T knew it too. I had no reason for being over there.
"I am working." I defend myself by actually starting to work. I grab a pile of the colored stacks of foam and start slicing it into sheets for the kids to cut into patterns.
"If you keep putting off this conversation, we'll have to hunt him down!" Sheesh, she was losing all of her marbles.
"If it's supposed to happen, it will. You can't force things like this."
"More conversations with yourself?" I look up and meet T's eyes. I can actually feel the sweat seeping from my pores and onto my forehead.
"Just nervous about a possible opportunity." I fib, quiet well, might I add. "Don't wanna jinx it." T nods his head.
"I've been there. Just got a big promotion myself, almost stressed for a month about it." He picks out a lime green foam card and hands it to me to slice.
"Ask him what he does for a living!" Miranda demands from behind me, startling me in the process. I shiver, and T watches.
"Weird draft, eh?" It's a lame cover up, so I keep going. "So, what do you do now?"
"Physical Therapist." I stare at him for a moment, wondering what happened to the athlete I'd heard so much about.
"What happened to basketball?" Miranda echoes my thoughts, now at my side.
"I would've guessed something more athletic." I shrug, and cut off some of the sheet and move it over to cut off another.
"Ah, once upon a time, maybe. But all that excitement, it'll be there tomorrow." I stop, mid slice and look up at him.
"Tomorrow's not really promised." I say, because I know that it's not.
"Maybe, but that doesn't mean you should take all those risks. An athlete's career could be over in a second, but a physical therapist, that's stable." I get a glimpse into him for a moment, but now it's gone. We remain silent, and I go back to cutting. T takes his foam sheets and heads back to his station.
I'd just began to come down for a final slice when Miranda booms, "Ask if he has a girlfriend."
I'd been so thrown off by her that I turned quickly to look at her and slid my hand left under the blade in the process. Unfortunately, I didn't have the sense to stop bringing the blade down and sliced my hand right in between my thumb and index finger, almost completely cutting off the tip of my thumb in the process.
I gasp and look down at my hand, now gushing blood heavily. "Call 911!" Someone screams. I hear the children gasping in horror, and I immediately begin to cover my hand. The gash is deep enough that I can see my flesh and the blood keeps rushing.
"I-I..." I don't know what to say. I hold my hand close to me and turn looking for anything, a bucket a cup, something to cover myself from the children.
"Is there a first aid kit?" T asks, taking my hands in his.
I blink several times before answering him. "Under the sink. Next to the glue gun."
"Grab that, please." He orders, but one of the other parents run off. I look down at my hand, and watch the blood pouring out. I can feel my breathing speed up. "Hey, hey...look at me." T says softly. I don't move. "Right at me." One of his hands covers my bloody one while the other raises my chin. "What's your name?"
"Uh...G-Gabriella." I answer, still breathing heavy.
"Gabriella, that's a pretty name."
"It's supposed to mean strength or something, but I know it's just because my mother picked out Gabriel and I turned out to be a girl. She was really just being lazy." T chuckles.
"Either way, it suits you." He smiles. T doesn't miss a beat as the parent returns with the first aid kit. His eyes leave me for a millisecond, and then I feel gauze pressing my wound. I look down, but T begins talking. "Tell me about this opportunity of yours." He starts to sit us down, and I follow his lead, crouching on the tiled floor.
"Doesn't matter now." I laugh, because I was talking to him, but no way was I going to ask him what Miranda wants. "What's your name?" I ask.
"Troy." He answers right away. "But you already knew that." He smirks. Right, I'd let him in on the fact that I'd thoroughly read his paperwork.
I blush.
Then, I wince because I can feel my hand start to throb. He doesn't miss anything. "How did you get into all of the craft stuff?" His hand squeezes mine to apply more pressure.
"It was an escape when I needed one. I can go anywhere in the world when I paint. People always talk about their happy place, mine is ever changing. Every time I pick up the brush it's somewhere new." I smile thinking about it, and T doesn't say a word.
I can hear the sirens and I start to worry again. "Hey, I'm right here, you'll be okay." He never once let go of my hand. Never stop applying pressure. "I'd love to see some of your work sometime." I can tell he's just trying to be polite and take my mind off things.
"It's not anything good, just random stuff." I look off to the side, anywhere but his eyes. My eyes find the open sign blinking above the front door.
"It's not about the content, Gabriella." He pauses. "The way you talk about painting, it's not a job for you. You just do it, and you love it. That reason alone, I already know it's going to be amazing."
That turns my gaze back to him. I look at him, really take him in, and my-oh-my was he a lot to take in. His eyes are soft and trained on mine. They are tired, but still gorgeous. His chin is sharp and square and covered with scruff, but it only adds to his overall appeal. I didn't see it before, but now I do. I completely understand why Miranda is so caught up in him. His mouth forms a half smile, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.
My heart nearly thumps out of my chest at the sight of it.
"Will you show me sometime?"
"I'll show you anything." Breathlessly, my voice betrays me and this time the sweat floods onto my head and in my armpits. T looks down, and raises his eyebrows a little, but his smile definitely breaks through.
This time, I'm certain my heart did a flip.
Thankfully, the paramedics enter and save me from any more embarrassment. T doesn't let go until the very last moment, and nods at me when he does. The change in my hand without his grasping it is almost painful. I can feel all the blood rushing to the wound and fighting to get out.
I wince, and try to answer the paramedic questions despite the pain. I keep my eyes on T, wondering if he'll leave, but he keeps watch for a good amount of time. "You'll have to come to the Emergency Room and get some stitches." A blonde female EMT informs me.
"I have to call my boss. I can't leave the store." I start reaching for my cell with my free hand. My blood has started to dry and my fingers are stiff. I fumble, unable to unlock my phone with the touch screen feature.
"I'll call him. Carter is an old friend." T says, immediately bringing his phone to his ear.
"Thanks, T." His face hardens at the use of his name. Without another word he steps away from the crowd.
The EMTs help me up onto the stretcher and cart me off toward the ambulance outside the store. The entire thing seems a little over the top, given my last trip in an ambulance was because of much more serious circumstances. Regardless, they pack me up into the vehicle and close it up.
"Gabriella..." Oh my God! I completely forgot all about her.
"Miranda-"
"Gabriella, I'm so sorry."
"Oh, Mir-"
"I had no idea that I'd catch you off guard like that. I probably should've waited for you to be seated."
"Miranda, it's okay."
"Oh, Gabriella. I feel terrible. You were already so nervous...I just wanted to talk to him. I shouldn't have pressed on like that."
"Don't worry, believe it or not, it actually broke the ice." I laugh lightly, but Miranda just stares. After a moment, she takes a seat beside me.
"He was so gentle with you." She murmurs, looking as though her mind is a million miles away. "He didn't even blink and took care of you. Taking your mind off the pain, keeping pressure on your wound to stop the bleeding..." I'm actually starting to feel a little guilty. My mind was everywhere but on Miranda. For a while, it was like she didn't exist.
"He seems like a really nice guy." I'm not sure my words are of any comfort to her, but I don't think there is anything else I can do. Tonight was the first time the limitations of what Miranda can do were ever really put into perspective. No matter how much she wanted to, she would never be able to feel what I felt, just simply holding his hand, with anyone ever again. I need to apologize. "Miranda, I-"
"Okay hun," The blonde paramedic climbs in the ambulance with me. "We're gonna get you all stitched up and send ya home." She beams and plops down on the bench across from me. Half a second later, she pulls out her phone and starts typing as the vehicle pulls off into traffic. I press my lips together and glance at Miranda. She's gone back into silent mode.
Guess my apology will have to wait.
After answering what felt like a million questions, I finally got so pain medicine to help numb me before I get stitched up. It took less time than normal since the hospital already had me on file. It saved me the explanation of what medicines I was taking and which I was advised to steer clear of.
I cradle the gauzed hand with my good one and stare aimlessly at the television. It's a nice-sized flat screen, bigger than the dinky 35 inch one Sharpay and I have at our apartment. My makeshift room is sectioned off with yellow, plaid printed curtains. Since they don't reach the ground, I can see the feet of the person next to me, moving constantly. I roll my eyes and look up at the ceiling.
I learned at a young age that normal trips to the emergency room take at least three hours to get everything done, and at the most six. It's a whole different time frame when you're admitted, but at least I don't have to worry about that this time.
"Knock, knock." A man says, just outside of my curtain. I smile, thankful he was considerate enough to let me know he was entering.
"Come in."
"Hey," And my savior steps through the door. "How're you holding up?" T asks, closing the curtain behind him.
"I'm better." I smile at him. "Medicated." He chuckles.
"I talked with Carter. He sends his best, wants you to call him in the morning."
"Thank you for that. I would've been in big trouble." He nods his head. "Have you known him a while?"
"Carter?" I nod. Then I gesture to the chair. "His eldest daughter and I went to high school together. He's popular in the neighborhood."
"That's really cool. I wish I could've met his family. He speaks so highly of them, but they're almost never home to visit. He has so many stories to tell about when they were my age." He sits, facing me, arms folded and leaning on his knees. I start to laugh at the thought of Carter rambling on about the trouble his eldest would get into with boys. He swears up and down that they're the sole reason he's gone completely silver.
"Is that where you heard?" He interrupts me, and I can see his eyes are much more intense.
"Heard what?"
"About me? Did he say something about..."
"I...I'm not sure what you mean." I answer honestly. Carter has never mentioned him by name, the only reason I know anything about him is Miranda, but it's not like I can let that cat out of the bag.
"You called me T." My body goes stiff, but his gaze never falters. "No one has called me that in...years." Shit! How do I get out of this?
"I'm..." Think Gabriella! "I just...I'm notorious for giving nicknames
"Seriously?"
"Afraid so." I shrug. "I'm one of those types that can't help but blurt out the first cool sounding thing that comes to mind." He continues to stare at me. There's no way he's buying any of this.
"Sorry," He shakes his head slightly, and then lets it hang. I hear him chuckle. "I've just grown out of the nickname is all. Call me Troy."
"I should apologize. You've done so much for me, and then I insult you-"
"Gabriella, I am not insulted." He chuckles again. The use of my full name makes my cheeks warm.
"Still...thank you, I don't think things would've gone so smooth if you hadn't decided to make a birdhouse tonight."
"Ah, well maybe we'll just call it even if you agree not to tell anyone about my excessive use of pink puff paints." A huge laugh escapes me, and to my dismay, a snort along with it. Immediately, my laughter stops and I glance at Troy to see if he caught it. His face scrunches and he laughs. Cue tomato red body shading.
"You have a deal as long as you don't tell anyone about my snorting." He nods his head, and flashes me a smile.
"Gabriella Joy Montez!" My little curtain rapidly slides open, instantly grabbing my attention. "I cannot believe you nearly chop off your hand and don't have the decency to call me!" Sharpay huffs and charges in. "How is your mother going to feel when-" She stops and eyes Troy. "Who are you?" She asks.
"I-"
Shar turns to me, "Well, I can see why you didn't call." She flips her hair over her shoulder. "Carter called me, and I rushed from the restaurant."
"Sharpay, you really didn't have to." I see Troy rise from his seat.
"I'm going to head out. It was nice meeting you, Gabriella." He waves, and exits before I have a chance to say anything.
"Thanks again!" I call, but I don't believe he heard. I frown, because this whole night should have been very different.
"You've got major explaining to do missy." Sharpay says, pulling the chair closer to the bed and plopping down.
This is going to be a long night.
An: Please excuse any of my editing errors! I wanted to get this out to you guys quick. Hopefully you all enjoyed it! Please feel free to leave any comments, suggestions, and questions in a review! Or, PM me if you'd like. I'll answer them as best I can without giving things away! Thanks again!
