4. Senior

Gabriella should have been paying attention. She was sitting in a lecture hall and whereas she found the content interesting, she was distracted. Her cell phone which was discretely inside her cupcake print pencil case on the desk lit up. She carefully pressed a couple of buttons, obscuring the phone from view of the professor, and the incoming text opened.

You minx! You're in a lecture and asking me that? I say you leave both the red and the blue at home and we spend the whole weekend naked.

Gabriella stifled a giggle and smirked. She was headed to Berkeley after her last class that afternoon. Troy was playing an important game that night and she was excited to see him play, she hadn't made it to a game in a few weeks.

I am not going to be naked at your game tonight!

That could be a good strategy. Distract the opposition.

And you! And your teammates!

Hm, true. Okay, you can wear clothes tonight. But you can still leave the panties at home ;)

Is this what the rest of my life is going to entail? You trying to convince me to walk around not wearing panties?

The first semester of junior year had been an important learning point for Troy and Gabriella. Despite how horrible their time apart had been, it was an experience that was a catalyst for turning their relationship into something greater, something more mature. They both had actively decided to be a "we" – that their individual lives and decisions impacted upon their life together, and more importantly, their future together. Whereas there was no definite form of lifelong commitment in the form of a conversation or a ring, there was a shift in the dynamic that went beyond the whimsical talks of the future associated with adolescence.

I'm afraid so.

Then maybe I should be insisting you're always shirtless.

Don't be silly. That's not in the best interests of my health. What if I get cold?

I'll keep you warm ;)

Yup. Minx. Stop texting me, you should be learning!

You started it!

And it seems like you're the one who wants to 'finish' it.

Tonight. And tomorrow... over and over...

Can't wait. Let me know when you're on your way.

Okay, I will. Love you xo

Love you too xx

...

Gabriella had kept Troy up to date with her trip from Stanford. The quickest way to make the journey on public transport took just over two hours – she could walk to get a bus to Union City, and then catch the BART up to Berkeley. She had started bringing her bicycle with her in senior year, mostly because Troy was in a different dorm for his senior year, moving into Clark Kerr Campus. This was a good thing for every reason but one – it was at the far side of campus, a half hour walk from the BART. It wasn't so bad if they literally spent the entire time in his room but when they emerged into the real world, when the weather was too cold or too hot, it was a little further than what was comfortable to walk.

She emerged from the BART station into the courtyard and a moment later, she felt a pair of arms engulf her from behind. She would know those arms anywhere but she couldn't help but tease him.

"Those better be the arms of my boyfriend, otherwise you'd better watch out because he'll be here any minute," she murmured.

He nipped her ear and kicked the stand of her bicycle down, allowing her to let it lean and rest, so she could turn around to hug him properly.

"I missed you so much," she murmured into his ear.

He pressed a greeting kiss to her lips. Normally Gabriella was reasonably demure in public, however she returned his kiss with a fervour.

"Do you need to get anything around here?" he gestured to the shops around them. "We can come back later if you need to."

She shook her head. "I'm good. Can we go?"

The look in her eye was clear. Their flurry of text messages earlier had unmistakably put both of them into a mood. "Yes, yes we can."

The ride from the BART to Clark Kerr was familiar to both of them. They avoided the main streets, taking short cuts, riding side by side when they could and when they couldn't Troy taking the lead. It was about a ten minute ride, and when they pulled up in front of his building they locked up their bicycles outside, Gabriella unstrapped her duffel bag which Troy promptly picked up. Hand in hand, Troy led her into the building. Gabriella saw some familiar faces, smiling and waving when she was greeted. Troy had no intentions of stopping to chat for which she was grateful. He unlocked the door to his suite, where they would spend the majority of their time.

"Hey Gabriella, you here all weekend?" a voice called out as Troy dragged her through the living area.

Now that Troy was living at Clark Kerr Campus, he was a fixture in a suite where he had his own single bedroom – in Gabriella's opinion, the best part of the move. He'd lucked out with a decent set of flatmates in his suite – his roommate and friend from junior year, Liam, had also moved in. They had an international student from Korea who kept to himself and didn't complain much; an engineering major who they called 'Howard' in tribute to The Big Bang Theory who was actually named Stan; and a tall, tall fellow named James who was in the pre-Law program. It was James who had called out – Troy would almost feel threatened by the common interests his flatmate and Gabriella shared, if James wasn't in his own serious relationship.

"Yes," Gabriella called back, already in the hall and almost at Troy's room.

"You can talk to her at the game," Troy shouted back.

"Is Patricia coming?" Gabriella called.

"Yes!" James' reply was faint, and then Troy pulled Gabriella into his room and closed the door behind them.

Gabriella had developed a good camaraderie with Troy's flatmates, in particular James. After she'd rearranged her schedule for spring semester of junior year, it had started making much more sense for her to be visiting him at Berkeley rather than him trekking down to Stanford. Because of his game schedule, Troy's schedule was the least flexible of the pair. In senior year with his new living arrangements, it made even more sense for her to be coming to Berkeley. At first she'd felt a little disconcerted about the idea of being paraded through among his all-male suite and them disappearing into his room and rarely surfacing for two days. However she got over it pretty quickly, especially after meeting James' girlfriend Patricia who was a junior at the University of San Francisco who would often be around at the same time as her. On weekends when Gabriella was up at Berkeley, if Troy was playing a home game she would usually sit with James and Patricia.

Troy almost tossed her duffel bag into the corner, but at last minute withheld, not knowing whether anything in there was valuable, and set it down neatly instead. Gabriella placed her small cross body bag beside it and then turned to face him, arms around him, resting on his shoulders and fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. Along with their newfound love and respect with one another, Gabriella could identify a very superficial outcome that she approved of from their time apart the year before – his shorter haircut.

"How long do we have til you have to get ready for the game?" she murmured.

Troy fished his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and conferred with the time. "An hour?"

"Plenty of time." Her voice was practically a purr.

"I should send you naughty text messages while you're in class more often," Troy observed. He loved when Gabriella was open about her desires – it was usually he who took the lead, but he was finding that the longer they were together, the more comfortable she was with that side of herself and of their relationship.

"Aha! You admit that it was you that started it!" she declared triumphantly.

"And you who is going to finish it?" he prompted coyly.

Their pre-game sexual encounters were generally of a similar tone, when they did take place. Troy was fortunate that his coach wasn't the kind who made the team make some sort of 'no sex' pact. At a time he'd kept it as his personal ritual, just because it seemed to be the varsity athlete tradition. However a couple of years ago, Gabriella had been present pre-game and he'd been so pent up that she'd been forced to resort to science, producing for him case studies which supported that the right kind of sex could potentially enhance athletic performance – nothing too strenuous on the part of the male, releasing tension but not overexerting the body. For Troy, that was more than enough for him to toss his tradition out the window. And for Gabriella, it was an excuse to allow that inner minx to come out – in a feeling that it was her 'duty' as the varsity athlete's girlfriend to ensure that he had the right kind of sexual encounter to maximise his performance. It was, after all, in the best interest of the Bears. Although she wouldn't dare to admit to most of her Cardinal classmates that she supported 'the enemy.'

Gabriella didn't respond verbally to his statement; she chose instead to allow her lips and fingers to do the communicating. Initiating a fiery kiss, she was quick to bring her hand up his thigh and to cup his groin, carefully but with intent. Troy couldn't help but groan. Her fingers toyed with the button and fly of his trousers, undoing them and allowing her to slip her hand inside for another stroke of his penis, with only boxer brief material interfering.

"Does that illustrate my intent?" she murmured.

He kissed her hungrily, happily enjoying the sensation of her teasing and toying with his member. He barely even noticed when his trousers were pooled at his feet and that she was slowly prying at the elastic at the top of his boxer briefs, ready to seize and remove. His hand skirted down her back over her jersey length sweater which reached mid thigh, reaching the small of her back and pushing the sweater up, his hand falling over her black leggings along the curve of her backside, squeezing her firm cheek – and then hesitating, pulling away from the kiss.

"Am I feeling what I think I'm feeling?"

Troy was familiar enough with Gabriella, her body, her curves and her dress sense to know when he was feeling something unusual.

"Tell me, if I reached into your leggings right now, I wouldn't be finding panties, would I?"

She gave him a teasing smile. "You gave me your request for the weekend."

He stared at her cheeky expression, shaking his head in somewhat disbelief. She never failed to surprise him and arouse him and stimulate him – and consequently make him feel more and more in love.

"You are so hot. Fuck I love you," Troy groaned.

"Now you shouldn't be focusing on what I am wearing and not wearing," she declared, and chose that moment to pull down his boxer briefs, pushing the material all the way to the floor. He assisted with stepping out of them, and in a moment of impatience, pulled off his sweatshirt and wife beater in one go, tossing them aside, leaving him completely naked in front of her.

"I appear to be overdressed, even without panties," Gabriella observed, and her response to his effort to undress was to remove her leggings. She did so carefully, ensuring he was able to watch her slender legs as they emerged from the fabric but didn't give a hint of what lay beneath. Her sweater hung to midthigh, a tantalising, teasing length.

"Don't suppose you'd be a doll and lean over to pick up all these scattered clothes? You know I can't handle it when my room is a mess."

She paused, before kneeling down by his feet, grasping his semi-erect penis at the base with her right hand, and swirling her tongue around the head teasingly. She glanced up at him.

"Would you rather I did this, or picked up the clothes?"

Now that they were in senior year, Troy convinced Gabriella that they were deserving of going away over spring vacation to celebrate impending graduation. At first they had discussions of renting a car and heading down the coast to a romantic beach location. However James and Patricia had suggested they all go away to Las Vegas, with Patricia having not long since turned 21. Gabriella had revealed to Troy an urge to make sure she had the full 'college experience' and he pointed out that it wasn't college without having a fun, light hearted spring break celebration. She was never going to be the type to get into the party scene of Cancun or Miami over spring break, so Vegas with a small group of friends seemed like an ideal compromise.

They'd booked cheap hotel rooms toward the end of the strip, at Excalibur. It looked like a fairytale castle from the outside. On the inside, each couple was staying in the cheapest standard room with a king bed, dresser, bathroom and television. It was all that was needed – it was somewhere to sleep, and certainly in the case of Troy and Gabriella, to make the most of the extended alone time together.

Which was exactly how proceedings began – they'd been in the room for no longer than five minutes settling in when Troy wrapped his arms around Gabriella from behind, pressed a soft kiss to her neck, and murmured into her ear, "Wanna check out the water pressure in the shower with me?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes but nonetheless smiled. "How romantic. A sexual proposition veiled in a need to explore the bathroom facilities. Troy Bolton, you sweep me off my feet every day."

He laughed. "Worth a try. Although I am going to shower – I know it was only a short flight but I feel gross after the plane, and this Nevada humidity is already getting to me. And since we're meeting James and Pat in..." he glanced at his watch. "... an hour, better get moving."

"The basketballer is precious about being covered in sweat? Oh, such irony," she remarked.

He laughed and headed over to the bathroom, where Gabriella had already taken both of their toiletries kits. To his surprise, she followed him in there.

"What are you doing?"

"I never said no to the shower!"

...

They spent their first night in Las Vegas out at a nice meal, having drinks as a group, and then exploring the strip and taking countless photographs of the lights and the glitz. The next day they all slept in – even Troy, with his regimented morning wake up and jog, was able to sleep later than normal and when he was bored, woke up Gabriella in creative ways before he was tired enough to go back to sleep. They did more sightseeing in the afternoon, then had picked up cheap show tickets for the night so did dinner, drinks and a show. The third night was a night of messy, messy fun. The problem with cheap dacquiris that come from machines is that the consumer doesn't psychologically feel as though they are drinking. The sensation is that it is merely a slurpee, the kind you could get at 7-Eleven. However the affect is rather different to that of a slurpee.

They'd started having some drinks mid afternoon, and between her small composition, not often drinking and the sun, Gabriella was feeling merry. They headed back to the hotel with the agreement they'd all get changed and head back out for dinner and drinks – with the silent agreement that said getting ready would take a few hours. Troy was taking a post coitus nap when Gabriella in her giddy mood decided she was bored and scribbled him a quick note and headed down to the gaming floor.

...

Troy woke up an hour later to her note. He pulled on jeans and a polo before calling her to see where she was, and she gave him quick instructions – evidently she'd moved casinos from her original plan to just head downstairs. He fired off a text to James that they might be delayed and headed out to find Gabriella. He watched her from afar, gleefully pressing buttons on the slot machine. He was more into poker himself, he didn't quite get the fascination to play slot machines. Before they'd left for Las Vegas he'd jokingly told Gabriella that between her mathematical skills and memory, she should play card games and count cards. She'd frowned, rolled her eyes and told him that he'd watched 21 a few too many times and asked if he'd paid attention to the whole film. As he approached closer, he was able to see the screen, and gasped.

"Gabriella! Look at how much money you have there!" Troy gasped. "How much have you put into the machine?"

"Troy! You woke up!" she turned away from the machine long enough to throw her arms around him and smack a kiss to his lips. "Now, don't stand too close. This cute bartender keeps bringing me drinks. I heard you can get drinks in Vegas if you're gambling but I didn't know it was true!"

He raised his eyebrows. "I don't think you need any more drinks just now, it's only 6pm. and cute bartender? Sure he's just bringing them without you flirting a little to encourage him to keep bringing them?"

"I would never do that! You know I love you," she said earnestly, and despite her protest for him to not stand too close, pulled him in for another kiss. He had to admit, tipsy Gabriella amused him greatly.

"Answer my question - how much money have you put in?"

"Just twenty dollars at the first casino, and I left with fifty. And then I came here and put in twenty and then the machine was ringing and this motorcycle noise went off and it was all a bit confusing. I think I won some jackpot that has nothing to do with the actual logic of the machine."

"There's logic to the machine?"

"Well not to when you win, but there's logic to the statistical decision of how much to gamble and a psychological game and..."

"God I love you when you're tipsy and still use big words."

She giggled. "I love you when you're tipsy and you ravish my body."

"You love it when I'm sober and I ravish your body too. So you put just twenty and now there's $500 there? Babe, take it while it's still there."

Her eyes lit up. "We can go out for a really nice dinner and buy drinks that don't come from beer taps and pre-mixed cocktail machines."

"Yes, we can, and with Vegas prices have a lot left over."

Gabriella clapped her hands excitedly. "And maybe I can play more later and get more free drinks and win more money!"

"Or lose money," Troy pointed out. "Would you like to talk statistics about that?"

"No. I'll talk more about you ravishing me, though," she said cheekily.

Troy laughed. "Come on. Sounds as though we have a fancy dinner to get ready for!"

...

The next morning, Gabriella was startled awake at 5am with the need to purge the contents of her stomach, a process which repeated every half hour for the next four hours. Troy was patient – awaking the first time and keeping himself awake almost the whole time, barely dozing to ensure he'd be there to hold her hair back and rub her back comfortingly, to make her drink water even when she protested. He fed her Advil and when a whole hour passed between 9am and 10am without her needing to be sick, he made her drink Gatorade to rehydrate quicker.

"You're such a bad influence," she moaned, head pounding. "It's your fault I'm even in Las Vegas."

Troy rubbed her head, stroking his fingers through the strands of her hair and massaging her scalp.

"Go back to sleep. I'll wake you in an hour for more Advil and Gatorade," he said soothingly.

"It's all so hazy."

"Sleep. I'll tell you later."

"Stay with me?"

"I wouldn't dream of going anywhere."

They'd been back at school for a week after getting back from Nevada. Without a doubt, they both had a case of senior fever, even the studious Gabriella. The end was in sight – in a few short months, pending any sort of last minute academic catastrophe, Gabriella Montez and Troy Bolton would both be college graduates. It was a surreal thought. So much had happened to them over the four years, but at the same time it felt like yesterday that Gabriella was on stage for the finale of Senior Year: The Musical; with Troy announcing to the world that he would be matriculating at the University of California, Berkeley. They had been teenagers both in age, and in life. They were both still young, but four years had changed them both a lot – both as individuals, and as a couple.

They reunited at Berkeley, a frenzied series of passionate kisses right outside the BART station, a hurried bicycle ride to his building and two hours of ravishing one another – over and over.

They lay together under his sheet and a thin blanket, experiencing the afterwaves of bliss. Troy was spooning her, cocooning her body, his hand lazily circling in a stroking pattern on her hip.

"This last week has been harder than most," Gabriella said softly.

"Harder?" Troy repeated. "Your school work?"

"No no. Being apart from you," she admitted sheepishly. She nuzzled into him, as though trying to get even closer than being completely entangled with him. "After spending a whole week with you in Las Vegas, the whole week in the same bed, falling asleep with you, waking up with you... It makes this hard. I mean I'd skip the awful day of being hungover but... even that was sweet. I don't mind being doted over."

"How do you think we went? Spending the whole week together? You didn't get sick of me?" he teased.

She smiled. "Not once. You even made sure you closed the toilet!"

Troy chuckled. "My mother has me well trained. The woman is like a drill sergeant."

"And you looked after me."

"You look after me every day." He was serious, not a hint of mocking sappiness.

"We make a good team," she murmured, her hand reaching back to find his, fingers entwining.

"It could be like that every day, you know?" he prompted. He'd brought up the matter a couple of times – both times she'd changed the subject.

She sighed. "Troy, we've already talked about this. There's no point in speculating about whether it may or may not be an option, not until we both have our plans for next year settled."

"I know, I know. But... if they do work out how I think they're going to work out..."

"You insist upon speculating about the hypothetical, don't you?"

"Well, better to think about it now, so that when things are finalised, we know what we want to do and can get organised, get to work sorting out the details."

Gabriella sighed yet again – this time, not a sigh of annoyance, but a sigh of defeat. "The reason that I don't want to think about hypothetically whether I may or may not want to live with you next year is because I so badly want it to work out and I will be really, really disappointed if it doesn't work out."

He shifted a little, moving back. He needed to be able to look at her properly – this statement was rather revolutionary coming from Gabriella's lips. She shuffled and rolled over onto her other side so she could face him. Their hands adjoined again, needing some sort of contact.

"You badly want it to work?" Troy repeated, somewhat incredulously.

"Why are you so surprised?"

"To be honest, I thought the reason that you didn't want to commit to the idea was because you weren't sure yet if you were ready for it."

She shook her head, squeezing his hand. "We're... you and I, we're there aren't we? I mean... living together, that's a logical next step." She suddenly realised that she was leaping ahead with a huge assumption. "If... if you're on the same page as me, that is. About... moving forward."

He could hear the question in her tone, the sudden fear that maybe she'd said to much. It was a completely unnecessary fear. "I am! God, absolutely I am."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, that's good."

Troy leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "When I think about my life and what I'm doing in terms of, you know, a career and where that will lead... you're there. Every step of the way. Without any uncertainty at all. But you know, first, we need to live together for you to know if you can actually put up with me forever," Troy teased.

"Forever?" she questioned.

"Well, as long as we both shall live. Isn't that what they say?"

"Troy Bolton, are you proposing to me?" Gabriella asked incredulously.

He raised his eyebrows. "I can see that you would react really well if I was!"

She pushed him playfully. "Troy!"

He shrugged. He was fairly serious about his observation. "No, I'm not proposing. But... it'd be nice to hear that your reaction would be a little more on the positive side if I was!"

"I don't want to get married any time soon," Gabriella said seriously. "Getting married comes with... you know... joining assets and thinking about buying property and planning details of a joined future. I love you and I want to be with you, now and always, but I will be at grad school next year and that's my focus, not... not all of the fluff and nonsense that comes with getting married. If things work in our favour, then yes, I want to live with you. But... that's one step enough for now, don't you think?"

"I get that, I do. My plans don't exactly work with planning a wedding, either. But is there a rule that just because you get engaged, you have to get married soon after?"

"After people get married, things are different. You can try to convince me that we can be the people who prove that it doesn't have to change. But it does. Your unmarried friends see you differently and you start behaving differently and your sex life wanes..."

"That's ridiculous. And I'm not actually proposing, you do know that, right?"

"I know, I know."

"But the reason to move in together isn't because you're really excited to learn that I actually have very poor housekeeping skills... it's because... we're heading to that place?"

She paused, and answered, "One day. Yes."

"Gabriella Montez... one day... when we're more financially stable and our lives are more settled and you feel like you've drank enough daiquiris and you're ready to start having double dates with other married couples where we're home in bed at 10pm and have sex only three times a week... one day... will you marry me?"

"I can't believe you would ever agree to any agreement where we only have sex three times a week," she teased.

"You're right. I take that back."

"Are you going to make me quit work and stay at home with the kids?"

"No. Besides, let's face it, if you're going to be a lawyer and I'm going to be a teacher, you'll be earning more so maybe you should be making me stay at home with the kids."

"We're talking about having children?"

"We are."

"You want all that? The house and the yard and the kids?"

"Don't tell Chad or Liam that I admitted it – or my mom for that matter – but yeah. One day, I do."

"And you want it with me?"

Troy did not hesitate for even a moment, before answering clearly, surely, simply, "Yes."

"Ask me the question again."

"Gabriella Montez... one day... will you marry me?"

She smiled. "One day... yes."

"I don't have a ring. One day, I will though," he laughed.

"So we are... engaged to be engaged?" she questioned, with a playful grin.

"That we are."

She pressed a kiss to his lips, soft and tender. "When we're there, and ready, I know you'll ask for real, and I will say yes."

"You promise you'll say yes?"

"I promise."

"And if at any point you're not in that space... if something changes and you don't think you'd say yes..."

"It won't."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

There was no ring to seal the deal. They didn't need the ring, not there, not then. One day there would be one, out of tradition and formality. But the future ahead was clear – and it was bright, and it was filled with love.