It takes me awhile to take in what has just happened. That is him—the young man that had stolen away my pride. It all hits me at once. And I imagine the pain that is engulfing me must have diffused all over my face. Troy is far too busy getting us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to notice my expression though. I have to stop being so scared—right? But he hasn't known half of my past.

I am far too complicated for anybody to deal with.

"Would you like me to butter your sandwich?" Troy inquires, modestly.

I can't help but chuckle at how wrong that can be taken, but nonetheless, I just nod and let him fix up my sandwich to his liking.

"So when did you realize that they were so good?" I ask.

"A few days ago. I just had to share my enthusiasm with somebody, you know?" Troy hands me the tray in which he put the sandwich on.

I'm not about to lie—it does look delicious.

"You don't have to cater for me, you know." I chuckle, as we walk back to my forlorn table.

"Oh, so now you're trying to be all big and strong?" He takes the seat next to me, stealing his sandwich off of the tray I am carrying. "I have a plan."

"A plan?" I become confused.

"If Sharpay's group messes with you again . . . you'll fight back." He acts as if this is the most ingenious idea he's ever came up with.

"Easier said then done." I murmur, looking down, grief-stricken.

"You're strong, you can do it." Troy's eyes drift up from the sandwich. "Just think about this sandwich, it'll make you happy."

I laugh at him. "You know, you kind of remind me of a child."

"You know, I'm about to steal that sandwich if you don't at least try it." He scolds - a playful smile on his lips.

I roll my eyes, taking a hold of the booming sandwich. It looks delicious, wrapped in peanut butter and a strawberry-flavored jelly, even the layer of butter looks superior. My mouth waters before I even taste it. Troy watches me with enticed eyes.

I'm about to consume it, but I end up bursting out into laughter, putting the sandwich down. I can't contain my amusement. Troy's expression was priceless. He furrows his eyebrows to my laughter.

"Troy." I breathe, gasping for air. "If you could please not watch me with wide eyes while I'm attempting to consume the sandwich, I might be able to suppress my laughter."

He looks embarrassed for a second. "Oh... right." It is cute how he looks down and goes back to digging into his own sandwich.

I take a bite of the sandwich. It truly does taste like heaven. "Mm mm. You're right, Troy, it is pretty delightful."

"Delightful? It's kinda like heaven at your fingertips." He chaffs.

"Well that's a bit over dramatic, but, I'm sure it can pass as good."

"Aw, that's no fun, Gabriella. Don't be so cynical."

I chuckle. "I wish it was possible for me to be as optimistic as you."

"You can be - you just gotta put a smile on that beautiful face." He winks at me - making my stomach weak and my insides tremble - I can't help but smile at him.

"See, there it is; the smile of the century."

"Oh, see, now you really are being dramatic." I giggle.

"I guess it's kinda good that I took drama arts then, huh?" He jokes, biting into the sandwich again, a look of pleasure spreading across his face afterwards. He points to it, "Heaven at your fingertips, I'm telling you."

I chuckle at him, as I gaze around the cafeteria. It is extremely plain, besides the white and maroon colors. On the walls, there are bold letters stating "East High Wildcats". I also notice a few posters on the wall—one having a huge imprint of Troy's face. It shows him, wearing his jersey, "14", smiling that adulterating grin. Next to him is a poster of Chad—another one of the star basketball players.

"So, you're a star player now?" I inquire, my eyes fixating with amazement on the poster.

Troy is far too busy eating that he hardly even notices the poster. He turns around to face it, and looks back to me, a valiant, hypnotizing smile on his face. He rubs the back of his head, looking speechless.

"Uh, I guess so." He admits, sheepishly, chuckling.

"Well, you never mentioned that. Guess I'm gonna have to go to the game now." I joke, faking a downhearted frown.

He still has the sandwich in his hands. "Oh, you would go anyways. I would make you." He gives me an audacious grin.

"No, but seriously, Troy, look at that thing, you're like a celebrity in this school." I can't help but notice the despondency in my own tone—I should be happy for him.

"Not really; I'm just a normal guy." Troy brushes it off, casually, taking another bite of the sandwich.

I detest how he acts as if he isn't a big deal, but everybody else disagrees. Doesn't he realize that he is hurting his own reputation, sitting here, next to me? I will be forever grateful to him for this, but I almost feel commiseration for him. And the weird part is how normal he acts—he doesn't even care!

As my eyes continue moving, they run into him. I feel my entire body stiffen. He is just walking by, but I can see his tawny-colored eyes glancing my way. They are so heinous. They frighten me. I'm waiting for some kind of burgundy color to appear in his irises. He seems to be a demon—something sent from hell, for sure. And I know his intentions. I know what he wants most, what he is here for.

Yep, you guessed it: to mess with Gabriella Montez.

He is watching me, when I notice his body movement leaning towards my lunch table. Surely, he is going to come over. And I can hear his boots tapping on the cafeteria's tile from inches away. I am petrified, shaking and everything. I put my head down when he approaches us, and Troy is just in the midst of finishing his sandwich—mouth full and everything. Had this man been a normal friend of ours, I'd be laughing at Troy's full cheeks, but this isn't the case. In this case, this man is my worst enemy—someone I'd want to avoid forever.

"Hello." So vicious and husky, yet Troy only looks up with a friendly smile on his face.

"Hey, what's up man?" Troy asks with a mouth full.

"Hey man, nothing much." Is the man's lame response.

It then dawns on me; Troy and this man are friends. I about vomit right then and there. This can't be true. No. Troy and he cannot be friends. I think I'm seriously about to hurl. I look elsewhere, averting my eyes from his cold, paralyzing eyes. I have to look away—I can't afford to absorb the fragments of memories.

"Hey Gabriella." The man says, liberally, as if he is just trying to be soft, to reassure Troy that we are friends or something idiotic like that.

"Gabriella, what are you doing?" Troy muffles through his food—his eyes glance down at me, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm-sorry. I felt nauseated for a second there. Hello Earl." I finally gasp out, feeling vile from the mention of his name.

"How are you?" Earl inquires, naturally.

I have to force words out of my mouth. "Good... I-I see you're not expelled any more."

"Yep, great, huh? I feel so free." He chuckles to his own comment. "Didn't know you and my homie, Troy were pals."

Troy is busy eating, still. "Yes . . . well, now you know." I sound so phlegmatic; it is so understandable how Troy thought of me being rude.

I just can't not be. The enmity I feel towards this man—it seems overpowering. It seems to go beyond the limit. It is almost as bad as I wish he isn't alive any further. I am that futile about him.

"Eh, still timid as you were before, I see." He is watching us, carefully. "Well, I'll let you two be. You going to see Troy play big tonight?" He asks, the question directed to me, obviously.

I feel suddenly numb, and afraid. I don't speak, my lips quivering with terror. I cannot tell him. I cannot. He isn't allowed to know. Never again, will he able to follow me anymore. Not after everything. No.

"Yeah, she is. She'll be cheering for me." Stupid Troy and his honesty, and his need to talk and chew at the same time.

I want to take it back. I want to clear things up. "No, I doubt it; my mother wants me home tonight." What a fib.

Troy looks hurt. "What? But Gabriella, you said you could. . ." I want to make him understand, but I just can't. It seems too complex to explain.

"Ah, well I'll let you two be. I'll be there for you, dawg. You hit home, all right? Later." The repellent man, Earl, makes his way away from us, and the security I had lost comes back, instantly.

"What was that?" Troy has finally swallowed, but his voice is filled with frustration, his eyes throwing daggers at me.

"Troy, I do not like him." I admit, biting my bottom lip, looking away from the intensity of his stare.

"You're being ridiculous. Earl's cool. He's in my History class." Troy looks so serious when he says this. "Is there anyone you do like?"

I look down, gloomily. I liked him. But he isn't supposed to know that.

"He's not like Sharpay, okay? Trust me." He assures me, his eyes softening.

"Okay." I just have to make him satisfied—I just have to make him believe I'm not aberrant. He already knows so much about me, and he must find me weird . . . but I just can't bear for him to think even worse of me.

"You're so tense." Troy observes. "You're like a kitten . . . you're so timid." He sounds diverted by this. "If I give you cat nip, will you get high off of it?"

I roll my eyes. "Please, stop, Troy." My voice is bitter and angry, and I don't mean it to be. "This isn't funny."

"All right, all right. I knew you'd get sick of me eventually."

"It's not that, I'm just tired of being the weak, timid kitten." I mumble, listlessly.

"You wanna be a full-grown, wildcat, huh?" I know he is trying to be funny, again, and it isn't as if he isn't cheering me up, because just the sound of his voice cheers me up. I am just worried about tonight.

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry . . . don't get mad at me, Gabriella. I'm just trying to cheer you up, you seem so upset." He continues, giving me sorrowful eyes.

"Yes, but it's not you, so don't think you have something to do with this. You don't. You are amazing Troy, I just have my own problems." I mutter, annoyed with myself.

Troy sighs. "I'm kind of here for the talking, but I mean, I'm not the type of person to force someone to talk about something they don't wanna talk about. I understand that sometimes things are too difficult to talk about. But if you need to talk, it's all right." He scratches the back of his head, looking at me. "Or if you know, you eventually . . . do . . . that works too." He goes on, looking a bit dejected for me not saying anything. Why is he so cute? I seriously want to pinch his cheeks.

I can't help but smile. "Troy, if there's anyone who's going to hear me talk, it's going to be you, so don't think I'm not going to spill my heart to you eventually. I'm just not ready now." I am practically promising him that I'd tell him everything someday—how can I promise something so intense?

How ignorant am I?

But I just can not help it. I am practically falling in love with him. He listens to me, understands me, and he is like a little kid. And he hasn't left yet. Why is that so atypical? Why do I expect him to leave? He is far too nice to leave. He has a heart. He isn't like the rest of them. Or Earl for that matter.