A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys. I'll try to update more often!
Troy
The fact that I am captain of almost every sports team in the school earns me the automatic label of a stupid good-looking jock. While parts of that statement are true, I am not stupid. I enjoy reading books. In fact, I take pleasure in reading books. It is my deepest secret, and I am proud of it. If I told anyone, they wouldn't understand; they wouldn't accept it. I don't read trashy teenage novels, which all have the same story lines: Boy meets girl, said boy cheats on girl, boy realizes girl is right for him, boy comes back to girl, boy and girl live happily ever after. I hate that shit, only classics for me. Shakespeare, Dickens, Allen-Poe. They all feature a main character that is hiding something from the world. Sometimes they're ashamed of it, sometimes they're not, but either way they're afraid they won't be accepted. The character has some sort of a secret place where they can think their thoughts without being interrupted and sort things out. The greenhouse of the school is mine; ever since the biology curriculum stopped using it no one ever comes up here anymore.
I think about everything here. This is the place where I come up with winning game plans for the basketball team, where I finish my term papers, or where I sort out relationship problems. This is where it's at.
So maybe that explains why I'm standing in front of Gabriella Montez. Maybe that explains why I'm so nervous and I'm practically having a heart attack in front of the one girl that makes me scared.
I don't know how long we stood there, staring at each other. Her chocolate eyes put me into a deep meditation causing me to lose track of time, and her body made me want to move closer. When I did, she spoke.
"Sorry. I should go."
What? I panicked. She turned to leave, and I grabbed her arm instinctively. My fingers tingled as I touched her skin. "Don't," I pleaded.
"Why not?"
"Because, um. I don't want you to?" I offered unsurely.
"Right. Because you don't want me to. And you think I'm going to listen and obey to your every command just because you're Troy Bolton?" I smiled. She knew my name. "You think I'm kidding?" She asked harshly, noticing my grin.
"No, no, you're right," I said. "I just would really like you to stay." Her brow furrowed and I let go of her arm.
After a moment she responded, "Fine. But this better be worth it." I gestured for her to sit down next to me on the bench. She obeyed, ironically.
"So, uh, what is this place?" She asked. Her lips were so beautiful.
"It's the greenhouse the biology department built, but no one ever uses it anymore."
Beat.
"Is it like your hiding place?"
I blinked. "Yeah. It is, actually." I shook my head in disbelief. "Wow," I mumbled. I hoped she didn't hear it, but apparently she did.
"What?" She asked, puzzled.
"No, it's just that… you get it."
"Of course I get it!" She exclaimed. "Everyone needs a place where they can just let everything go without anyone seeing them or judging them or anything. My place is on the roof of my house. It's so quiet and peaceful and I feel like I can see the world from there. It's nice," she concluded, and looked at me. Suddenly the sincerity in her voice disappeared, "But what do you have to hide from? You are Troy Bolton. Captain of every sports team. Every boy wants to be your best bud, and every girl wants to be your girl friend. You are the student body, Troy." She laughed. "You're like the Leviathan."
"The Leviathan?" I repeated, confused.
"Yeah, y'know, Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan?" When I didn't respond, she continued, "Thomas Hobbes wrote about this one person, this king, who embodied the society as a whole. That's you." She hit me playfully on the shoulder. "How does that make you feel?"
I pondered the question for a minute. "It makes me want to stay up here longer," I responded.
"I don't get it."
"Do you know how hard it is to be at the center of the attention all the time? To have the spotlight slowly burning through every layer of you until you feel like you've just lost everything you stand for?"
Gabriella stood up and looked at me. "Is this true? Troy Bolton, doubting himself? I'm quite surprised," she teased. It annoyed me.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked. The smirk was wiped off her face.
"You want to know something?" She inquired quietly. She leaned in close to me. Her eyelashes were touching my nose. I held my breath.
"Yes," I whispered.
"I've always been the new girl. It's something I'm used to. I know my place in the world right now. I'm happy with being the typical quiet geek. I'm used to being treated like scum by girls like Sharpay. And you, Troy Bolton, are no scum. You are at the top of the heap. No spot light on me."
I waited for her to continue. "And…?" I asked.
"And," she started. Then she stopped and sat back down, looking defeated. "And I don't know. It's just – why are you talking to me? Why aren't you talking to Chad or Sharpay or some other one of your friends? I'm a nobody."
I gulped. I was afraid this might come up. "Honestly, Gabriella?" She nodded her head. I hesitated, and then continued. "It's just, you're different from any other person I've ever met. You don't treat me like I'm the king or whatever. You treat me like any other person you would meet, and I like that." I laughed. "This sounds like a terrible Disney movie."
She smiled. "You're right. Let's start over." She got up and walked out of my sight.
"Where are you going?" I shouted after her, starting to get up.
Suddenly her head popped up from around the corner, and a look of surprise spread across her face. "Troy Bolton!" She exclaimed. "Funny bumping into you here."
I played along. "Well if it isn't Gabriella Montez. Why don't you come sit down next to me and we can chat?"
"Oh, it would be a pleasure," she responded. Her eyes twinkled.
She came and sat down next to me. We spat words at each other, covering every topic from Barbie dolls to vegetarianism. I got lost in the sound of her voice, the light in her eyes, and the movement of her mouth.
"Troy… what time is it?" She asked, breaking the rhythm of our conversation.
I looked at my watch. My eyes bulged out when I read the numbers. "Five-thirty." I was missing basketball practice. The captain of the team was missing basketball practice. My dad was going to be so pissed.
"Crap," we said simultaneously. She gathered her things and got up quickly. I had intended to do the same, but instead I watched her. "Look, Troy, I really have to go… debate team," she explained.
"Oh. Well, okay." I stood up and we walked silently to the exit.
She suddenly stopped and turned to me. "Well, this was nice?" The question mark at the end of the sentence confused me.
"Why is that a question? It should be a statement. This was nice," I said forcefully, almost like I was reassuring myself that it was.
"Alright, alright, sheesh. It was nice." The smile reappeared on her face. I smiled back. She tended to have that effect on me.
I wish I could have frozen that moment in time. The smile on her lips, the twinkle in her eyes, the complexion of her face. Everything about her was just so… perfect. A piece of hair was strewn across her cheek. I brushed it off her face, and she jumped.
"Sorry," I muttered. Her cheeks turned a crimson red.
Without acknowledging my apology, she opened the door and hurried down the stairs.
I called after her; "We'll have to do this again sometime!"
No response. I forced myself to believe she was nodding her head in agreement.
