A couple of days passed uneventfully. I was now lying in bed, bored. I had done my homework, called my dad again. Finally, I decided to go for a run. Before my mom died, I think I willingly went for a run all of about four times in like, two years. I wasn't unfit – I'd go on the elliptical an hour every other day – but I hated running. Now though, it was something I looked to for comfort and happiness. When I ran, it was like nothing could catch me. Like I was free, from everything and everyone around me. With that thought in mind, I grabbed my iPod, tucked my key into the hidden pocket in my spandex shorts, and set off at a brisk pace.

About halfway through my usual route, I felt a presence behind me. Looking up at the sky, I noticed it was already getting a little dark, and I frowned. I picked up the pace, frightened. I didn't dare look behind me.
But I couldn't keep up this pace for long, and soon I was bent over, holding my knees, sucking in as much as air as I could. Over my rasping breaths, I heard a familiar chuckle and froze.

"Put your arms above your head, don't bend over. It'll help the blood flow around your body." Troy told me; holy shit, what was he doing here? Silently, I did as he said, and found my breathing was becoming steadier.
"What are you doing here?" I looked up at his tall figure. In this light, he was half obscured, shadows playing across his face. He couldn't have been more beautiful if he'd tried.
"I was running too. I live like, right around the corner. I swear I'm not stalking you." He held up his hand in a placating gesture, and I laughed. Oh. How presumptuous of me, to think he would follow me anywhere.
"Oh right. Well, I guess I'll be going now." I shuffled my feet awkwardly and turned. I had no idea why I was so shy around him, but there was something about him that made me submissive and timid; I wanted to be perfect around him, wanted him to like me.
"Wait!" he called after me. "What are you doing for dinner?" He asked me straight up. I locked gazes with him, surprised at his bluntness.
"Um, nothing. I'll probably make myself salad, or soup, or something. Why?"
"Do you wanna come over for dinner?" he said it in a rush, as if he couldn't wait to get the question out of him.
"I wouldn't want to intrude, Troy. It's ok. Plus, I'm not really dressed for dinner." I frowned down at my racerback shirt and spandex shorts.
"Shut up," he said without malice. "You're coming. Call your parents and ask them right now." He said firmly.
"Oh, I, um… I don't need to ask them. It's ok. I'll come." I so didn't want him asking me questions. So far, no one in Albuquerque knew about my mom, and I wanted to keep it that way.

He looked confused, but shrugged his shoulders. "Ok, well, cool. Come on, let's go. Dinner is in like 20 minutes, and my mom gets fucking crazy if we're not at the table on time." He rolled his eyes affectionately at the mention of his mom. I could tell he really loved her.
I smiled and fell into step beside him. He was right; his house was literally around the corner. It was the first on the right. We walked towards the porch, and he must have seen me fidgeting from the corner of his eye, because he turned to face me.
"Hey," he said softly. "Don't worry. I always have friends over for dinner; it's totally not a big deal. I mean, I know we're not really friends, you probably don't wanna be my friend I guess. I get that. But I –" I stopped him with my laugh. Now he was rambling. What happened to the confident, outgoing, playboy of East High? That guy was nowhere in sight.
"Troy, I want to be your friend." I want to be more. "Now let's go in, or like you said, your mom will go crazy." I smiled at him and he turned to open the door. I took a deep breath and followed him.

The living room was empty, but soon I smelled the warm scent of home cooking wafting through from the kitchen. So did Troy. He waltzed into the kitchen confidently.

"Hey mama," He walked towards a petite woman with auburn hair and leaned down to deliver a soft kiss to her cheek. She instinctively leaned into her son.
"Hi sweetheart." She said, and continued to stir the sauce simmering on the stove.
"Mom, I brought someone to have dinner with us." With that, Troy ushered me deeper into the kitchen. I walked slowly.

Hearing the footsteps behind her, Mrs. Bolton turned, a smile playing on her lips. She set the wooden spoon down, wiped her hands across her apron, and faced me properly. "Well, hello!" she said brightly, her brown eyes sparkling. "It's nice to meet you…" She trailed off, staring at me questioningly.
"Gabriella," I told her. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Bolton. Thanks for having me for dinner. Sorry I'm not dressed properly." I offered her an apology.
She waved it away. "Please, call me Lucille, or Lucy. Nice to meet you too, honey; don't worry about what you're wearing. Anything is a step up from Troy in his sweaty basketball gear or Lexie in that handkerchief she calls a skirt."
"Lexie?" I asked, confused. Who was Lexie?
"Really Troy, have you told Gabriella anything?" she chastised Troy, who was sneaking tastes of the sauce whenever Lucille wasn't looking. "Lexie is Troy's older sister; she's taking a semester off from college." She explained.
I nodded. "Do you need any help setting up?" I asked her. If my mother saw me at someone else's house for dinner without offering to help, she'd crucify me.
"Oh no, honey, the table is already set. You just go through and sit down with Troy. Dinner will be on the table in about 5 minutes. I hope you like fettuccine with mushroom sauce."
"I love it." She smiled and turned to her sauce, giving Troy a reprimanding look. "I know you were eating from the pot, Troy Alexander Bolton. Don't think I didn't see."
Troy just grinned cheekily and grabbed my hand, leading me towards the table.

"This isn't so bad, is it?" Troy looked at me, darting his tongue nervously along his lower lip.
I shook my head. "You were right. It's all good." I shot him a reassuring smile and sat up straight, like mama had taught me. Not a minute later, Lucille called Lexie and Mr. Bolton to the table. When he turned into the dining room, he sat down, not even noticing me; it was actually kind of funny, how oblivious he seemed to my presence. Troy cleared his throat, and Mr. Bolton looked up, finally realizing I was sat next to his son.

"Hello?" he greeted me questioningly. "And who might you be?"
"Dad, this is Gabriella. She's a… friend, from school." He glanced at me, and I stretched my hand out to shake his. "Nice to meet you Coach Bolton." I smiled shyly. He took my hand into a firm handshake, staring at me. It was pretty obvious he was trying to figure out whether he taught me. I decided I'd put him out of his misery.
"Third period gym, on Thursdays." I told him.
"Gabriella Montez," he said. "That's right. You're a pretty good shot in soccer. Thinking about trying out for the team?"
I shook my head. "Maybe in senior year," I told him, "right now, I just want to kind of settle into the school, get my bearings." He nodded in understanding, and started a brief conversation with Troy about improving the basketball team's zone defense tactics.

"Lexie!" Lucille had, by now, placed all the food on the table. My mouth watered, it all looked so good. "Get your butt down here right now, young lady." She yelled. Suddenly, in a whirl of white shorts and a thin tank top, a pretty blonde girl appeared at the entrance of the room, her fingers rapidly moving across her iPhone in an attempt to get one last message in before dinner.
"Phones away." Coach Bolton said sternly. Lexie sat down, and I went through the motions of introducing myself to her too; she seemed nice, but looked as if she was itching to be somewhere else.

Conversation flowed and ebbed pleasantly after that. The food was great, and the atmosphere was so wholesome and familial that I felt myself smiling; the Boltons were so friendly, they treated me as one of their own. I felt an ache in my stomach, knowing that my family could never be like this again, but I quashed it. I didn't want to be sad today, I wanted to try, like Dr. Marin said. I wanted to make her proud of me. But, towards the end of the main course, everything went to shit.

"So, Gabriella," Coach Bolton, who had now insisted I call him Jack, started. "What is it your parents do?"
I froze, but then I collected myself. "Um, my dad is the CEO of some big auditing and consulting firm." I answered. I hoped he wouldn't ask the next question.
"And your mom?" Jack asked. Fuck. I was cornered; I could feel my breaths getting shallower. I hadn't taken the anxiety meds today, and I hated being trapped into questions like this. I'll tell him quickly; rip it off like a Band-Aid.
"My mom was a nutritionist. She… died a few months ago." I swallowed thickly, looking down at my plate.

Beside me, Troy had shifted to look at me, but I wouldn't meet his gaze, instead focusing on the tablecloth's intricate pattern. After a moment, I felt his hand reaching for mine, offering me solace.
When I glanced up, Lucille was looking at me, sympathy written across her face. Jack looked like he'd regretted asking me any questions. Lexie… was Lexie. She looked sad for me, but she was also not letting her bring it down; I admired her.

"Dessert anyone? I have chocolate cake and coffee ice cream." Lucille broke the silence. I nodded enthusiastically, partially because I loved coffee ice cream, but mostly because I wanted to move on from the subject of my dysfunctional family.
"Ok. Lexie, Jack, will you help clear the table? Troy, go on and show Gabriella the backyard; the lights are on and it's a beautiful night. I'll call you guys in for dessert later." Troy stood up, not saying anything, and offered me his hand. I took it, and followed him into a spacious backyard, with fairy lights twinkling merrily above us everywhere.

I sighed. "You can ask." I told him; it didn't look like he was going to talk anytime soon. He glanced at me, his blue eyes soft and comforting.
"I'm not going to ask you, Brie. I wish you hadn't been asked like that at the dinner table, with all the attention on you, but I won't push you. You can tell me whatever you want."
"Brie?" I smiled at him, glad I'd found some way to distract him. He blushed slightly, "Sorry, I'm so used to calling you that in my head, I guess it just slipped out. Do you mind?"
"No, I like it. I just wish I had a nickname for you." I told him. He laughed loudly, "Please don't say Troysie. That's what Tiff and some of the cheer squad calls me and let me tell you, it's fucking annoying."
"Your name is so hard!" I exclaimed. "It's like, one syllable, how the hell is anyone supposed to get a nickname for you?"
"You'll develop one for me eventually." He said. Eventually. As in, did he want to hang out with me more?

"I want to tell you something." He said, and I stared at him, suddenly nervous. "Tell me," I said softly. He took a deep breath.

"The first time I saw you was our first day of junior year. You were wearing this black, off the shoulder thing, and jeans, and you'd walked into homeroom nervously. Chad was talking to me, I remember, and I told him to shut the fuck up." He chuckled, lost in his memories. "I was so intrigued by you. Ms. Darbus told you to take a seat next to me, and you did. You didn't even spare a glance in my direction; didn't stare at me like other girls do. No girl had ever really done that." He looked at me now, eyes wide and earnest. "I haven't had the best reputation with girls. I've been kind of a… player." He winced. "But I like you Gabriella. God, I barely even know you. But I want to know you. I want to know what makes you laugh and cry, what you like and don't like. I like you, Gabriella." I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You like me?" I repeated stupidly. He laughed, rubbing his neck, something I'm beginning to think he does when he's nervous.
"I do." He confirmed. "And it would be a really good time if you told me how you felt, otherwise this is gonna get really awkward really fast." He added, looking down now.
"I like you too." I blurted. His head whipped towards me and he smiled. A huge smile that lit up his face, it was amazing.

"So you won't mind if I do this?" He asked, inching closer to me and grabbing my hand, enveloping it in his own large one. I shook my head, grinning. "Or this?" he was leaning towards me now, and I inched forward too. Our lips met, and he gently coaxed my top lip between his, pushing against me. His hands felt their way to the sides of my face, cupping me gently as he applied more pressure to my lips. Eventually, I felt his tongue lick along my lip, begging for entrance. I hesitated, not knowing what I was doing.
He sensed my discomfort, and pulled away, breathless. "I'm sorry," I stuttered "I just, I'm not really…" I didn't need to finish, or at least I hoped I didn't. Troy nodded, seemed to understand. Instead he pulled me closer to him and took my hand, playing with my fingers.
"We can go slow. All the time in the world." He didn't say anything else, and we just sat in silence, basking in each other's presence.
I wondered how Troy could be so perfect. It was like he didn't have a bad bone in his body, and it freaked me out. I needed him to have a fatal flaw, so that when he realized I was fucked up, it wouldn't be so bad. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, and settled back next to Troy, still not really believing all that's happened this week.

"Troy, Gabriella, dessert's ready!" Lucille called from the kitchen. Troy stood, and then pulled me up. We walked into the house, sat back down at the dinner table while Lucille doled out helpings of homemade chocolate cake and ice cream, which I tucked into right away. Yum. I made a happy noise at the back of my throat, appreciating the sweet taste on my tongue.

Afterwards, Lucille insisted that Troy drive me home. I insisted that I could walk, but she wasn't to be argued with, and anyways, Troy had already grabbed his keys and was heading towards the door. I thanked Lucille and Jack quickly, tried and failed to find Lexie to say goodbye, then followed Troy to his car.
When we got to my house, I unbuckled my seatbelt, but made no move to get out the car. I turned to Troy, ready to thank him, but his lips on mine, moving urgently against them, quickly silenced me. This time, when his tongue darted across my lips, I opened my mouth a little. I had no fucking idea what I was doing, but Troy moaned into my mouth, so I must have been doing something right. That's when I felt his tongue against mine. Oh. I moaned too, and started to move my tongue against his, mimicking his actions. He broke the kiss after a while, pulling away to come up for air. We were both panting.

"Wow." He said.
"I'm sorry," I started to apologize. "That was my first real kiss, makeout, whatever…" I explained. "I can get better, I swear." Did that sound lame? God, I can't even tell anymore.
"Gabriella," he stared at me. "If you get any better, you might kill me. You're an amazing kisser."
I blushed. It wasn't really a normal compliment, but I'll take it.
"I better go in." I said, looking towards my big empty house.
"I'll walk you in," he offered, "Maybe meet your dad?"
"He's away on business, but thanks for the offer." I smiled. I'd been doing a whole lot of smiling this week; it was extraordinary.
"So I guess, I'll see you tomorrow in homeroom then."
"Yeah, I guess so. Bye Troysie." I teased him. He stuck his tongue out before watching me walk to my front door. Once I was inside, I watched from the window as he drove away, before turning to get ready for bed.

As I brushed my teeth, a thought struck that left me wondering for the rest of the night. Troy had kissed me, told me he liked me, but he'd never asked me out. Not on a date, not to be his girlfriend.

So, if he hadn't done any of that, this left me with the question, what were we?