Chapter 9
Troy looked over at me puzzled. "What kind of game?" he asked, curious.
"Uh, a-" I paused searching for the right word. "A fun game. It can be amusing."
"Uh huh," Troy nodded slowly, skeptical about this game. "What is it?"
"Have you ever played Truth?"
"Truth?" he repeated. "Like Truth or Dare."
"Right," I nodded. "But minus the dare."
"So you just ask questions...?" He seemed completely confused by this concept. It was cute.
"Yes," I nodded. "We'll take turns. And the only rule is you have to tell the truth. You in?"
"Sure, Montez," he smirked. "I ask first."
"Fine," I smiled. "Go ahead."
"Hmm," he pondered. He looked over at me with a nervous smile. "Red or blue?"
I rolled my eyes at his question. "If you're going to play, don't be a wimp. Ask a real question."
"That is a real question!" he argued.
"Blue," I gave in. "But ask another question. And don't pussy out."
"Alright, alright," he laughed. "Why did you move here?"
"Uhm," I blanked out. Did I tell anyone a reason yet? I did not want to get tangled up in my own lies, so I stuck with something I would have told anyone here if they asked me that. "My dad's job got relocated."
"Someone relocated a job from California to here?" he asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, weird," I forced a nervous laugh out of me.
He nodded, "What does your dad do?"
"I believe it's my turn," I pointed out.
"You're right," he sighed playfully. "Shoot."
I thought about what I wanted to ask him. Do you have a girlfriend, do you like me? But I thought those might be a little to forward. I decided on a personal one, but not too nosey.
"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"
He let out a puff of air, shaking his head. "Way to stump me."
I grinned, apologizing. "Sorry."
"Well, I'd like to say I'll be playing for the NBA, good money, and maybe a family."
"That'd be a good place to be," I mumbled.
"Tell me about it," he looked over at me smiling. "Now it's my turn." He paused, staring in the distance as if he was thinking about what he would ask me. "What scares you the most?"
And he thought he was stumped! There were so many answers to this question; staying here forever, not being rich again, my friends back home forgetting about me, and people finding out that I've lied to them since I got here. "Snakes," I lied.
"I thought you had to tell the truth," he reminded me.
"I did tell the truth." There's another one I can add to my wall of lies.
"Gabby," he looked at me. Did he just give me a nickname? I tried holding my huge smile back. "I know you were lying there. But, since I'm just so understaning and nice, I'll give you another chance."
"Fine," I sighed. "I'm scared that-" I paused taking a deep breath and breaking eye contact with Troy. "I don't want my friends back in California to forget about me."
"I doubt that," he scoffed as it was no big deal, or something I should even think about worrying about.
"And why's that?" I asked confused. He didn't know the people I was talking about. He might have heard about some of them, but he didn't know what friends I meant. He had no idea what my life was like in California.
"You're very memorable, Gabriella," he told me confidently.
--
We've been walking for about two hours now, and there hasn't been one hint of a gas station. My feet were killing me, and I was so tired. All I wanted to do was fall down and go to sleep. And at this point I'd settle for the bed in Hello Kitty Palace. Currently it was Troy's turn, and he was taking forever to think of something. I didn't say anything though; that means I wouldn't have to think. I could concentrate on not concentrating on the pain on my feet, and how I can keep my eyes open.
"What do you want?" He asked me simply.
"My bed," I groaned, tired.
"No," he laughed. "I meant, like, right now. If you could have anything in this world, what would you have?"
"Lack of feeling on my feet," I mumbled.
"Gabriella, I'm being serious."
I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. "I have no idea. I mean, does anyone know what they want at seventeen? Besides you," I smiled.
"Actually, hate to break it to you, a lot of people know what they want at seventeen. I've wanted to play for the NBA since I picked up a basketball."
"Well, then, I guess I'm one of the weird people who have no idea what they want," I teased. "But, I mean, that's the whole point in life isn't it? Find out what you want, and then go get it."
"Yeah, but you're supposed to figure that out before you're fifty," he chuckled.
"Shut up," I said, shoving his lightly.
"Oh, you wanna start something?" he asked. How could he be this full of energy at this time after we've been walking for over two hours?
"How are you this awake?" I slowly got out.
"You tired?" I felt his eyes look me up and down.
"Uh-huh," I yawned.
"Then, c'mon," he said, stopping in front of me, his back facing me. He couldn't be serious.
"I can walk. My legs are still intact."
"Oh, please. You look like you're gonna drop over dead any moment. Just get on."
"If I look like that, you should be more concerned with getting me to a hospital, not giving me a piggy back ride."
"Gabriella," he sighed.
"I'm kidding," I laughed. I jumped onto his back, using the most energy I could muster. He jolted me up a little farther, his arms under my legs. I let my head drop onto his shoulder, while he started walking.
"You know it's your turn still," he told me.
"I know," I murmured softly. "I'm thinking."
I heard him let out a faint chuckle. "Whatever you say, Gabs."
Even though I was half asleep, that was the second time he called me a nickname tonight, and it didn't go unnoticed. He wasn't the most graceful walker, might I add. He tripped over several pebbles, and his back was bouncy. He cracked his neck, which made a gross sound.
And he hummed. Oh, the humming! It was horrible. I didn't know it was possible for someone to be a bad hummer, but Troy Bolton, ladies and gentlemen, is the worst hummer on the face of the Earth. He hums a certain song, then just goes into a whole different tune. No one could fall asleep like this, no matter how tired they are.
I felt Troy stop, and I lifted my face from his shoulder to see we were back at the truck. What time it could be? I knew it was late.
He carefully opened the rusty passenger door, cringing when it made the loud squeaking sound. He had his arms under my legs, as he turned so he could slid me in the truck.
"Don't worry. I can get in by myself," I joked, slipping off his back. He smiled at me, closing the door and walking to his side. I took my phone out of my pocket, and saw it was dead.
Troy started the car, and it made the rumble noise under us, then died. But it was on long enough for me to glance at the clock. It was two-fifty seven. Great.
I knew that I would have hell to pay when I returned to Aunt Josie's, and I knew I'd be in the most trouble of my life. More trouble than in ninth grade when I came home completely wasted, and high as a kite. I didn't see the outside world for three weeks when that happened, now it would probably be three months.
But, strangely I wasn't worried at all. Even if my punishment is the worst I'll ever get, it was worth it. A night with him would be worth a lot in my book, and I was actually okay with that.
And I think I just admitted to myself that I'm falling for Troy Bolton.
A/N: Sorry, I wanted to get this out earlier but finals are coming up and teachers are pounding us with homework and my exhaustion level has been at an all time high. Review, please.
