Lalala. I don't own High School Musical.
I post this up every time, but who really reads it? I'm sure you all know anyways.
Ok. So coming up next. We shall have some nice moments. I was thinking of keeping this chapter purely just friendship, and I might, since I'm writing this before I'm writing the actual thing, but I plan to put a little drama to it in the end. I DON'T know if that's going to happen 100 though.
Review! Review!
Friends.
Real friends.
Next thing she knew, the sky had fallen. The earth was now controlled by a secret organization of aliens from Pluto. And last but not least, Harry Potter was real.
That was how surreal it felt to Gabriella.
Friends.
Real friends.
It was Saturday that day, and Gabriella lay in bed pondering. She was snuggled beneath her warm blanket, and in her left hand was a certain little teddy bear hugged closely against her chest.
It was cold outside that day—she could see the frost on her window from her position. With careful consideration, she placed the animal beside her and tucked it's body under the blanket as well. He deserved warmth too. Mr. Darcy, Gabriella had named him. He was the Mr. Darcy to her Elizabeth.
That night had been over a week ago. After that, they had eaten a lunch together and that was just about it. And although their amount of talking had not changed that significantly—still the occasional hello's when they ran into each other—their attitudes had. The change was drastic. Even the air between them seemed to settle. Where once it had been frizzing and sizzling with tension and hatred, now it seemed calm and serene.
Gabriella thought she rather liked it.
Troy kept his eyes on the road, while fumbling around the passenger seat to find his phone with one hand.
Finally, he located the item and snapped it open, hearing the familiar sound of the phone waking up from sleep mode. He waited patiently as he pulled the car to a stop at the convenient red light.
The past week he had been in heaven. Literally.
Four years in hell—if you could call being in the NBA, hell—and finally a little taste of heaven. Gabriella had given him that with her friendship.
To him, it was so much more. But he could never let her know. He had known her for years. He could read her like no other. He knew that if she found out he still harbored feelings for her, she would retreat—withdraw. She would once against distance herself—and that was that last thing Troy wanted.
Speaking of which, he quickly punched in Gabriella's number. They hadn't quite progressed to the stage of trading cell phone numbers, although Troy planned to change that tonight.
He revved the car to a start as the red light turned green. The phone rang in his ear. Once. Twice.
"Hello?"
"Hey! It's me," said Troy, holding up the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he maneuvered a sharp turn. Once that had passed, he picked it back up with his other hand.
"Oh hey Troy," he heard the voice say. He could imagine her smiling into the phone held up by her shoulder while typing or writing. He found that girls had a knack for being able to hold their phones up. He figured it must be due to practice. When he did it, he often ended up hanging up on the person.
"Troy?"
"Sorry, spaced out."
She laughed on the other end.
"No problem. So uh…why're you calling?" she questioned. She sipped her tea quietly, taking her eyes off her screen.
"I was wondering if you were free right now," he said. "Free as in…not busy free," he amended. He awkwardly paused. "Yeah…."
Gabriella chuckled. "Well…"
"I just had practice, and I was just driving by. Just a quick coffee or something? I can't be long anyways."
"Right, there's a game tonight." She froze. "Johnny told me," she added immediately. "And I would love to—"
"Great so—"
"But I have a meeting in 10 minutes," she went on the finish. She heard him sigh sadly on the other end of the phone, and decided to make it up to him.
They were friends right. Isn't that what friends did?
"We could always have a small drink tonight after your game? If you're still up for it and you're not too tired."
Troy brightened, even though Gabriella couldn't see it. "Yeah that sounds great."
"Unfortunately.." She paused for dramatic effect, "I only drink on celebratory occasions." She smiled into the phone.
"Well, I'd say the Knicks winning tonight should deserve some celebration," he chuckled, picking up on her thought quickly.
"I guess it would," she teased.
"Then I guess I'll just have to make it happen." He hung up the phone, and tossed it onto the seat beside him, smiling happily as he did.
Troy was a man of his promises. Or, as of lately, he was a man of his promises. But Gabriella absolutely refused to think of the past.
So, again, Troy was a man of his promises—which was precisely why Gabriella was now pushing her way through an alcohol heavy crowd of dancing people.
Go with the flow, she had told herself. Really, it was her own fault for suggesting this absurd idea. Gabriella Montez simply did not do clubbing. Then, you may ask, why the hell was she at a club?
She laughed to herself. Johnny would certainly have a fit if he found out.
She pulled down her silver body hugging tanktop, and discreetly hooked her fingers through the belt loops of her black skinny jeans and yanked them down a little as well. They were a little uncomfortable. She had combined this outfit with a pair of stiletto 3-inch heel boots, a mane of tumbling ebony curls, and light make up.
Now, Gabriella was usually a very stylish and trendy dresser. But really—nothing spectacular. Tonight, when she had regarded herself in the mirror, she had been blown away. For the first time in a long while, she felt hot. Sexy. Beautiful.
Admittedly, there was a reason why she didn't choose to feel hot, sexy and beautiful every day—the look had taken her over an hour to create. She didn't have an hour every morning unfortunately. But she had wanted to look good tonight, although the reason was lost on her.
Merely drinks with a friend.
She found a pair of empty seats at the bar and sat down, putting her black leather purse in the one beside. "A…" she paused, racking her brain for a name of a drink. It had been a while. "Long Island tea please," she said to the bartender passing by. He gave her a gruff nod.
In short moments, the requested drink appeared in front of Gabriella, and she gingerly took a sip. She couldn't quite remember when she had last drank anything alcoholic other than wine, and she was pretty sure this wasn't a kid drink. Although it didn't taste all too bad.
She began taking slightly bigger sips. She checked her watch. She was fifteen minutes early. She took another sip.
By the time Troy arrived, Gabriella was on her second drink. She didn't know why she was on her second drink. She knew very well that she—
"Don't you have zero tolerance for alcohol?" He took the words right out of her mouth.
"I believe so," she smiled, slightly tipsy. He looked nice, she noticed, even in the dim light of the club. He was wearing a simple blue and white striped polo under a worn out leather jacket, with dark blue jeans and addidas runners. His hair was wet, with a few beads of liquid running down his neck and onto his shirt. He looked cute. But she kept that to herself. She wasn't, as of yet, that drunk.
He pushed the drink away from her reach. "Gabriella," he reprimanded.
"Are you laughing at me?" she snapped, although smiling at the same time. Troy bubbled with supressed laughter. Clearly, he was. "Don't make it too much of a trouble for you to hide it," she said sarcastically.
He shook his head, his damp hair flinging from side to side. "It's just—you're sort of drunk," he chuckled.
"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze," she replied. "Quit it, your hair's making me wet," she whined, rubbing a few droplets of water off her face.
"Sorry."
"Sweaty much?" she laughed.
A clear-minded Gabriella would never have said that. But this wasn't really the clear-minded Gabriella.
"Shower?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.
She looked down, embarrassed. "Oh." She fumbled with her hands, taking her purse off his chair, and motioned for him to sit.
He did, and before Gabriella knew it, a beer materialized in front of him.
Now why hadn't she ordered that? Much less alcohol percentage.
"Yeah, why didn't you?" he commented, noticing Gabriella staring intently at his drink.
She snapped her head up. "It's really freaky how you do that."
"Do what?" he asked, confused.
"Read my mind," she answered shortly, shrugging slightly while looking at him suspiciously.
"It's not hard when you decide to say what you're thinking out loud," he laughed.
She instantly brought her hand to her mouth. "I said that out loud?"
"That and you said I looked cute too." She stared at him wide-eyed, in fear.
He nodded and she whacked her hand to her forehead. "I am never drinking again. Celibacy here I come," she announced.
"That's got nothing to do with drinking," he laughed.
"Sure it does, a celibate person means they don't drink," she reasoned, then frowned. "Wait..."
Troy nodded.
She shrugged and reached for her drink again.
Troy laughed even harder, and made tsk-ing sounds with his tongue, pushing the drink further away. "It's for your own good. Besides, what happened to the declaration a second ago?"
She giggled and shrugged carelessly. "I'll start tomorrow."
She began to pick up easy conversation with him. One benefit of being tipsy—talking was easy.
"Tuesday, come over for dinner with Johnny and I." Troy looked up at her, stunned. He guessed that she probably wouldn't have said that had she been sober.
Gabriella took his stunned look for something else. "Um, sure, you can bring someone if you like." She quickly changed the subject upon seeing Troy briefly nod.
"Aha!" she declared, succeeding in taking hold of her drink once again. She picked it up and found it slightly lighter than it had been when she had last put it own. She picked it up and held it at eye level, wavering slightly with her unstable hand. She peered through the glass, looking at Troy.
She laughed at the distorted version of him. Then she sobered, technically speaking, and found the drink to be almost empty.
"Where did it all go?" she asked, perplexed.
He took the drink from her hand and finished it off, then he pointed to his stomach. "No more for you young lady."
Gabriella crossed her arms in frustration, and pouted. "Hmph," she made a sound.
Then, she proceeded in taking Troy by the arm and leading him into the dance floor.
Had she not been a little bit drunk, she would register the intense look that Troy gave her throughout the night. But then, had she not been drunk, she wouldn't have gone dancing. However, luckily for Troy, she was a little bit drunk.
Oh yes, celebrating indeed.
"Thanks for…uh….bringing me home," blushed a now thoroughly sober Gabriella outside her door. "I'm really sorry."
"Don't be," smiled Troy. "It was fun."
"But you just had a game, and now it's nearly midnight. You must be tired."
Troy was, but he wouldn't let her know that."It was fun, really," he insisted. "I even got some pictures of drunk Gabriella on my phone."
Gabriella groaned. "Don't remind me."
They shared a laugh. Then, Troy cleared his throat. "Do you—r-remember what you said tonight?"
Gabriella frowned thoughtfully. Dinner!
She inwardly groaned yet again. Her and her big fat drunken mouth. What had she been thinking? Dinner—Troy and Johnny? But she couldn't well retract the invitation now, so she smiled and nodded.
"Dinner, yeah," she forced out. "Bring someone if you want," she added again, the words choking in her throat as they poured out.
"There's nobody."
She nodded.
He nodded.
"Goodnight," he said.
"Thanks again." Gabriella unlocked her door, and slipped inside, smiling one last time at Troy.
The door clicked shut.
"Where have you been?"
Gabriella whirled around to face Johnny. "Work," she instantly said. He looked at her suspiciously, and it was then that she remembered her outfit.
She didn't want to lie to him. But she couldn't tell him she was with Troy. She never planned to stay out that late, but she supposed it was for the better that Troy had waited until she were sober before taking her home.
"And then, I went out with a friend," she went on. She smiled apologetically. "I tried calling you, but no one picked up."
That wasn't a lie.
"Yeah, I had a meeting until 9 remember?"
Gabriella nodded.
"Well, alright then," smiled Johnny.
Gabriella went and hugged him. "Can we have a guest over Tuesday for dinner Johnny?" she asked into his sweater.
He didn't comment that she smelled of alcohol—instead, nodded and whispered a yes. At least he would see who the person was--the person who kept her out until past midnight.
Gabriella quickly opened the oven door, stuffing the meat inside before hastily closing the door again and chucking the gloves off.
"Johnny," she yelled. "Can you take this out when its five fifty?"
She heard a muffled response and assumed it was a yes. She checked her watch. It was four-thirty. That gave her about 20 minutes to get the salad done and an little over an hour to get ready.
Nervousness bubbled inside of her. Troy and Johnny in the same house. And to add on top of that, there was the fact that her cooking could be a failure. Gabriella was known for messes in the kitchen.
She rubbed her hands together and took out the cleaned lettuce, placing them into a bowl. Absentmindedly, she began to make the simple dish while thinking.
Gabriella had been so worried about tonight, that over work that morning, she had taken to make a list of possible conversation topics in case it was awkward. She expected it would be. She briefly ran over a few conversation topics from her list. Basketball. New York. The cold weather compared to what all three of them were used to in thei respective past homes...
She had everything planned, up to the perfect placement of the salt and pepper shaker. You see, Troy liked to put pepper on his kitchen and Johnny hated it, so the pepper shaker would be strategically places closest to Troy's planned seat. Thus, there would be no asking to pass the pepper shaker.
Gabriella nibbled on her lip. Perhaps she should reverse the salt and pepper shaker locations. Then, when Troy asked for the pepper like Gabriella knew he would, they could start a conversation.
She was utterly lost. What to do?
Gabriella shook her head, realizing the salad had long been finished and placed it in the fridge. She quickly washed her hands, and headed to the shower, checking the meat one last time.
It was half an hour later when Gabriella stepped out of her washroom, her make up and hair done already. With her towel wrapped around her body, she padded her way to her closet.
In the blink of an eye, her bed was covered with over a dozen pieces of clothing. She picked up Mr. Darcy, gave him a chaste kiss on his forehead, and placed him on her pillow to face her. "You're the judge," she said to him.
Gabriella held out the first—a bright yellow sundress. She regarded her reflection in the mirror. It seemed to cheerful for the harsh weather outside.
The next contender was a pair of faded blue jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Too casual.
She held up the next, a little black dress. She twirled around happily, smiling and laughing. She took a seat at the edge of the bed, rummaging through the pile.
A cute graphic tee? She held it in front of her, tilting her head to inspect it. Childish really.
And she continued doing this, happily inspecting over a dozen pieces of clothing. Last time she had done this was on her first date with Johnny.
Finally, she found a casual white short sleeved dress and took out a pair of black leggings. Perfect. She held both items in her hand and danced happily around the room, before falling into the pile of clothes on her bed as if it were a cloud.
She would make the night absolutely perfect. She smiled at that thought.
She slipped on the two pieces of clothing, striking a pose to Mr. Darcy, who nodded agreeably, or so Gabriella would argue. Then she walked over to her desk to find the pair of hoop earrings she had left there the day before. It wasn't there, but instead, she found a magazine. She quickly looked at the time—five forty—and decided to take a peek. She flipped through, none of the articles really interesting her, until she came across an enlarged photo. It was of a boy and a girl, sitting together in the park.
The title? Of course, in big bold letters:
Troy Bolton and Mystery Blonde Girl?