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The Distance Between Us

Chapter Four: This Might All Be A Colossal Mistake

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I ignored Troy for a week after that.

I know, I sound crazy. Why not just embrace it? Take a chance? But there was something pulling me back and it seemed like a stronger force than the one that was pushing me towards Troy. So as I sat studying with Taylor in the library one afternoon and he sauntered in, it didn't feel odd for me to look down upon seeing his figure.

He was still breath-taking, a textbook tucked under his arm and a pencil behind his ear. I smiled to myself softly, thinking to be cute when he caught my eye and waved.

Oh, fantastic. Why did he have to have this affect on me? Why couldn't I just keep my eyes down?

"So, I was thinking we should go out this weekend," Taylor was saying as she highlighted notes. i heard her words, but it was hard to process them with the vision of Troy coming towards me over her shoulder. I ducked my head down and hastily scribbled in my notebook.

"Hey, Gabriella," I heard his name fall off his lips and inwardly, I shuddered. Not looking up, I bit my lip and replied.

"Hi, Troy," I said as softly and distantly as I could manage. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hand on his textbook tighten.

"Um, haven't seen you around lately," he went on, but I didn't dare look up.

"I've been busy," I said, my eyes still focused on my work. I stole a glance at Taylor, however, who was staring at me perplexed. She looked up at Troy and stuck out her hand.

"Taylor Mckessie," she said brightly. Troy took her hand and shook it and introduced himself before turning his attention back to me. What did he want? Why was I so against whatever it was?

There was an awkward silence as he looked down at what I assumed would be the top of my head.

"Um, guess I'll you later then," he cleared his throat before uttering a 'nice to meet you' to Taylor before taking off.

After hearing the sound of his footsteps fade, I let out a deep breath, one I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My cheeks were burning and I just wanted to hide.

"Okay," Taylor dropped her book and looked pointedly at me. "Who and what was that?"

"Nothing!" I said quickly, too quickly, for Taylor looked at me skeptically. "He's just this boy I know from high school."

Taylor scoffed. "Oh, please, that was not just some boy. First, he was gorgeous and second, you would barely look at him! Just spill!"

"Taylor, he's just this boy from high school and that's it. "Feeling the familiar urge to bolt, I began gathering my things. "I'll see you later."

Walking out of the library, I stood against the wall beside the door and tried to regulate my breathing. Why was this so hard for me? I came here for him. Here he was, openly offering me friendship and I was just as openly denying it. What for?

No. Troy and I had gone four whole years obviously knowing the other existed and neither he nor I ever made an attempt to know one another. Why start now? Furthermore, why bother letting him continue to steer my directions, my decisions? I was taking back the control he had no idea he even had.

Glancing down the hallway, my breath caught in my throat when I saw Troy standing against the same wall I was, a bulletin board between us. Staring down at his feet, he ran a hand through his hair before letting out a sigh so parallel to my own before turning on his heel and heading down the hall, his back to me.

This didn't mean anything, I told myself. I would not convince myself otherwise.

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I probably should have taken what my twelfth grade history teacher said about university more to heart. He was an older man who preferred sweater vests over any other item of clothing, had grey hair and mustache and I think I saw him smile a total of three times over the five month semester.

He was constantly lamenting about university, about the difficulty of it and how one really had to dedicate themselves if they wanted to make it through. At the time, I thought it was just another teacher trying to scare us, as they all had through my entire school career. "They won't let you print once you get to sixth grade! It'll be cursive all the time!" or "They won't put up with this nonsense in high school!"

I was able to print if I wanted to even in the current day and they actually were more tolerant of trouble makers in high school than they were in my elementary school, so I didn't necessarily take my dear old history to heart. Not to mention I could pull essays out of nowhere and take tests without studying for them and still earn a ninety.

If I were to see that teacher now, I think I'd be too stubborn to tell him that he was right, university was a hell of a lot of work...but I would at least admit that it wasn't what I expected it.

It was hard. There was always work to be done; chapters to read and lab questions to finish, essays to write. Everyday was a trying mess and truth be told?

I loved it.

Maybe it was the new friendship I had been developing with Taylor or maybe it was just the general atmosphere that NYU provided, but staying up till three AM and writing a paper was oddly invigorating to me.

Except, after doing this three days in a row and running on, oh, probably about six hours of sleep; I was done. All I wanted, stumbling into the door of my dorm room that night, was go and have a nice, long shower and then flop into bed. Oh, how inviting that sounded.

Walking over to my dresser, I pulled open the top drawer and began digging through it to recover my shampoo and conditioner. In my small toiletries bag, however, they could not be located.

That's odd, I thought, considering I had just used it yesterday morning. Where could it be? I looked in the drawer itself, thinking it had maybe fallen out, but it hadn't. Next I checked underneath the dresser; not there either.

In a frantic, frustrated action, I began tearing apart my room. Underneath my mattress, under the bed, in between books. In the closet. Where was it?

Tugging on my hair in aggravation, I stomped my foot childishly. All I wanted was a shower. Was that really too much to ask?

I heard the click of the door behind me and turned around to see Sharpay standing there, one hand on the knob and dressed in a hot pink bathrobe. Her dripping hair was up in a towel and clutched in her right hand was a soft pink bottle that distinctly looked like my shampoo.

"God, shared bathrooms are absolutely dreadful," she moaned, closing the door behind and letting out an exaggerated sigh. She crossed the room and opened the top drawer of my dresser before popping the bottle of shampoo back in. She turned to me and stared at my gaping expression.

"What?"

I let out a squeal of frustration and stormed past Sharpay, throwing open my drawer. I picked up the bottle and gave it a little shake. It was empty.

I whirled around. "You used my shampoo? Without even asking?"

Sharpay blinked owlishly at me. "Yeah..."

"Why?!" I screeched, feeling my patience slowly slipping away from me. "Why? Why would you do that? Are you really that inconsiderate?"

"I'm sorry," Sharpay scoffed. "We're roommates. What's mine is yours. Sharing is caring. Did you not watch Barney as a kid?"

"Are you kidding? You didn't even ask! That does not equate sharing, Sharpay! That's stealing! Do you even know how expensive this shampoo is? My mom bought it for me as a part of my special going away basket! Now you've used it all!"

"Oh, take a chill pill, Marissa Cooper!" Sharpay placed her hands on her hips. "I do know how expensive it is, thank you very much, which I didn't expect from you considering your hair looks like a dead animal most days!"

With every ounce of my strength, I picked up the empty shampoo bottle from the dresser top and hurled it at Sharpay's general direction. I didn't mean to hit her, but if I did it wouldn't be so bad.

"You are the most inconsiderate, insufferable person I have ever dealt with!" I yelled and then stormed out of the dorm room, slamming the door shut. The hallway was quiet, thank god, and I realized I once again had no idea where I was going.

"Now, now," a calm voice said. "We do not slam doors in Goddard Hall. Did you not read your handbook?"

I glanced up and saw Ryan Evans, the elusive R.A. He was dressed in white slacks and a baby blue polo with a striped hat over his blonde hair. He smiled at me so widely and so sincerely that his eyes crinkled. I felt a smile tug at the corners of my own mouth just because of it.

"I'm sorry," I said, sighing heavily. "I'm just...I'm having a really bad day."

"Ah," Ryan held up one finger and beckoned me towards him. "Let's enter my office and you can tell me all about it. I am the resident adviser, after all. Tis what I'm here for."

I shook my head, not feeling particularly interested in telling a stranger about my conflicting feelings for Troy or my argument with Sharpay. The stress, anger and confusion were staring to burst through the seams of me being, however.

"It's alright, really." I blew my bangs out of my face. "Nothing I'm not used to."

"No, really," Ryan came over and placed a comforting arm around my shoulder and I instantly felt comforted. "Please. I don't want to leave one of my advisees unadvised. I promise not to pry and if you feel like our conversation isn't going anywhere, you can leave."

A part of me really wanted to decline, but another part of me really wanted to accept. Maybe a little bit of conversation would do me some good. "Okay," I said slowly. "But I get to leave if I feel uncomfortable."

"Didn't I already say you could?" Ryan smiled cheekily and led me down the hall to his dorm room. Stepping in, I was surprised to find that it was pleasantly neat and orderly. Plunking himself down on his desk chair, he gestured to his bed.

"Take a seat. Now, I never did get your name..." He paused and waited for me to answer.

"Gabriella Montez," I replied. "I'm from Albuquerque."

"Ooh," Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Very nice. Now Gabriella from Albuquerque, tell me: what is making you slam your door?"

I pressed a hand to my temple and took a deep breath. "You see, about three months ago I did this really stupid thing and that stupid thing has escalated into something I realize I wasn't really ready for."

Ryan stared. "Uh huh. Want to tell me what that thing was?"

"Not really."

"Oh. Alright, fair enough. Carry on."

I smiled. He was definitely still new at this, but I had to give him credit for being so easy going about it. Others could pry so easily without even trying, but it seemed that he was making a conscious effort to make me feel at ease.

"There's this boy," I bit my lip hard, "I kind of have feelings for him..."

Ryan nodded. "There's always a boy and pretty girls always have feelings for them. Continue."

"The problem is...I don't really know him. At all. And even worse...the prospect of getting to know him scares me to death. He's already unknowingly affected such a large part of my life." I paused, thinking about his ability to make me come and stay here all at once. "I'm scared to think of what it would be like if I did get to know him and he turned out to be even better than I imagined and how...how much he'd control what I do then."

Ryan didn't say anything for a moment, staring at the floor thoughtfully. I felt suddenly sick. Maybe I sounded crazy. Who wouldn't want to get to know the person they were allegedly in love with? Only me, only me.

"I know, it sounds weird, but I--" I began, but was cut off by Ryan's hand.

"It doesn't sound weird at all," he smiled again. "Any relationship, whether in the platonic or romantic sense is scary. You set yourself up based on the expectations you have of that person, whether you know it or not. You, however, are smart enough to realize that before it's too late, but I think it's holding you back in more ways than you know."

I took a deep breath. Was my fear of losing my independence really holding me back? Was I being less independent that way? I didn't want Troy to control my actions any longer, but remembering his face this morning and last week when I rejected his silent invitation to sit with him made me feel that maybe I was overreacting.

"You're smart to guard your heart, Gabriella," Ryan began. "Everything at the beginning of university is so new and all your emotions are so heightened. It's smart to reel things in occasionally, but don't let your intelligence hold you back from learning to live."

Learning to live. Wasn't that the real reason I had come here? It was fifty percent Troy Bolton and fifty percent finding myself. Was half of my reasoning contradicting the other half? Was attempting to forget about Troy causing me to lose myself even more?

"I'm no expert," Ryan said softly, throwing me out of me thoughts, "But things will get easier as time goes on. I promise. Though, I have to ask...for something you'll barely reveal anything about, it was still enough to make you slam your door?"

"Oh, no," I felt my eyes narrowing at the memory. "My roommate used the last of my shampoo without even asking."

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yes!" I folded my arms. "She's insufferable, Ryan! She's this blonde bimbo actress type who, I'm almost sure, bathes in the colour pink! Everything on her side of the room is so bright and shiny that it practically blinds me!"

Ryan didn't say anything, another thoughtful expression on his face, his brow creased into a concerned line, so I continued.

"I mean, I tried to be friends with her and she blew me off! First day! She's snotty and sarcastic and just plain miserable! I want out of that dorm, but at the same time, she's so high and mighty that I don't want to give her that satisfaction! I want to make her suffer, too."

"Okay, confession time..." Ryan stood up and walked to his bookshelf, pulling a small silver frame off the top. "That blonde bimbo? Um, yeah, she's actually my sister.

Staring down at the framed picture of the boy in front of me and my roommate, I froze and felt the blood rise to my cheeks. Oh dear god.

"I am so, so sorry," I apologized, jumping up to leave. I had just openly insulted his sister. So harshly, too! I called her a bimbo! "I mean, no offense! She's, um, she's got gorgeous hair and I, um, I'll just, uh, be going now..."

Ryan laughed and placed the picture frame down. "No, Gabriella, sit down. Don't worry about it."

I stared at him, thoroughly confused. "I just insulted your sister and you're telling me not to worry? I feel awful!"

"No, Gabriella," he placed two hands on my shoulders and forced me to sit down. "I understand, really. My sister...isn't the easiest of people to deal with. Even though we are twins, I have a hard time understanding her actions."

I blinked. "You're twins...? But, you're a sophomore and she's a freshmen..."

"It's a long story."

I didn't say anything, sensing that there was something more to the story but knowing better than to pry. After all, he had been more than considerate when it came to my story, and it wasn't my place to pry in his personal life, either.

"Sharpay is a more complicated person that she comes off as," he said quietly, looking at the picture of his sister. "I know it sounds impossible...but I think it's best for you to give her a chance. That boy of yours, too. People can be dreadfully difficult, but sometimes it's worth it in the end."

I stood to leave and smiled brightly at Ryan. "Thanks...you've actually been a great help."

Ryan grinned, clearly happy at his success. "Come back anytime. The door to Ryan Evan's office is always open."

I turned to leave, but stopped when I saw a framed photo of he with his arm around a girl. It was the same girl I had mistaken for Troy's girlfriend three weeks earlier.

"Oh," I said suddenly. "Um, you know..."

"Kelsi," Ryan filled in. "Yeah, she's my girlfriend. You know her?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly, but yeah, we've been introduced. Thanks for everything, Ryan."

Upon arriving back at my dorm room, I was more than pleased to see that Sharpay had vacated the premises. Although I was feeling more calm about the situation after my talk with Ryan, coupled with the new found knowledge I had acquired about her, I was still livid at her. Not to mention, I really wanted that shower. So grabbing my purse and jacket, I hopped out the door and left for the subway.

Public transportation in New York is nothing like back home, where it was all reduced to buses and carpooling. The subway was this whole intricate place filled with so many bustling people here and there that I felt so excited at the prospect of it all. Stepping into the opening doors of the subway, I felt the same thrill pass through me as it did the first time I travelled this way.

As I sat down at a seat by the door, I looked around at the other passengers and tried to imagine what they were like. A blonde boy sat two seats down from me, dressed in flannel and playing with a key ring, almost anxiously. I tried to think about what was making him fidget, was he late? Was he early? Did he have an argument with someone? Was he stressed out?

Across from me sat two teenage girls, a brunette and a redhead, dressed in maroon school uniforms and laughing hysterically. They bantered back and forth, quipping about celebrity gossip. I smiled at them and continued 'people watching'.

There was a little old lady with bags from Macy's at her feet and a stressed out looking business man standing up, constantly looking out the window as if it would make the cart go faster. I laughed and looked the person sitting on the seat beneath where the man was standing and found a pair of curious cobalt eyes staring back at me.

I stopped breathing.

Troy was slouching in the seat across from me on the subway, his legs crossed at the ankles and his fingers intertwined and resting on his lap. Decked in his usual uniform of jeans, a plaid shirt and a hoodie, he watched me curiously and I was thrown back into that biology classroom months earlier when I had caught his unsettling gaze and wondered why he wasn't saying anything.

This time was no different. Our eyes just remained locked, staring each other down intently, yet neither making the move to say anything else. Tearing my eyes away from his like pulling apart two magnets, I swallowed, suddenly very nervous and uncomfortable and stared down at my own hands in my lap.

Why did he have to be on the subway now? Why was fate throwing us together? Sure, I was willing to take what Ryan had said into consideration and maybe take a chance and develop a friendship with Troy, but I wanted to do it with my own terms. This was not at all what I had expected.

I squeezed my hands together anxiously, trying to still my breathing. Just a few more stops and I could get off, get my shampoo and then forget all about this. Just a few more stops.

I stole a glance over at Troy and noticed he had adverted his gaze, but upon feeling mine, he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something, when all of a sudden, the lights flickered in the car and it lulled to a stop.

My eyes grew wide as the people around me began murmuring and I felt panic rise through my veins. The car had stopped, why had it stopped? Why weren't we moving? Looking at Troy, he seemed just as perplexed, but no where near as panicked as I was.

"Sorry folks," the muffled voice of the conductor said. "We're having some technical difficulties, so hang tight and we'll try to get going as soon as possible."

"Oh, wonderful!" a girl with a guitar and wearing a purple tie-dyed cardigan exclaimed. "Last time this happened, I was stuck on this thing for five hours."

My breath caught in my throat again. Five hours? There was a chance I could be stuck on this subway car, sitting across from Troy for five hours and have absolutely nothing to say to him?

Oh dear, God, I should have just taken a shower tomorrow instead.

"You know what I definitely believe in? Fate. That things happen for a reason."

-Felicity Porter, 'The Force'

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"Gabi has to snap out of it soon, Diana! I just want to shake her!" was what my mother said to me after reading this chapter. So, thanks mom for all your input on this chapter.

Thanks to the bestie, again, for listening patiently for over thirty minutes during our writer's craft class about my super lengthy, in depth chapter plans. :)

And thank you to you, lovely readers. The smile you put on my face is brighter than Zac and Vanessa's smiles at a basketball game.