…
The Sacred Rays
Next Steps: Part Two
February 12th, 2016.
Friday.
The cute gecko glares at the scared man from atop a frying pan carried by a girl whose enchanted blonde hair constrains the man to a chair. Troy chuckles at the scene on the screen and glances down at the brunette woman next to him to trace back the adorable giggles emitting from her beautiful smile. The smears of colored pencil residue still cover the side of her hand that she rests between her hip and his. Her legs are curled beneath her so that her torso must lean against his, but not uncomfortably whatsoever. In fact, she unexpectedly finds herself soothed by the sensation of his rib cage expanding against her body on his inhales. A peaceful smile plays on her lips as she considers the pattern of his breaths as a relaxing drowsiness suddenly overcomes her body. The weight of her head naturally falls back onto his shoulder next to her, and she turns her head to peck his arm momentarily before snuggling her head back to its place against his shoulder.
"I love Disney's animal side-kick characters," Troy says, struggling to fit his fingers into the narrow mouth of the gummy bear pouch. He thinks to pour the bag into his hand and then tosses a handful of the gummy candy into his mouth, "like Mulan's dragon," he mumbles, the gummy bears wrestling against his tongue, "Eddie Murphy."
"Mushu?" Gabriella clarifies.
"Whoever."
"Troy," Gabriella laughs, "You can't just say Eddie Murphy. I honestly imagined the real life actor in a cheap dragon costume."
"You know who I was talking about, though." Troy glances down to smile at her.
"Yes, still." Gabriella persists with a smirk.
"Yeah, so like Mulan's Mushu, Rapunzel's Pascal and Flynn's Maximus. They're a little duo."
"So which animal would you be as my sidekick?" Gabriella asks.
"Excuse me?" Troy arches an eyebrow at her, "What makes you think I'm the animal sidekick?"
"Oh I'm sorry, did you want to be the princess?" Gabriella teases.
"The prince, thank you very much." He chuckles, ponders a thought for a moment, then says, "I think you'd make a wonderful chihuahua sidekick."
"Oh?" Gabriella blinks largely, "What about me makes you think chihuahua?"
"Oh, you know..." Troy smirks mischievously, evidently thinking of something to rile his girl up, "You're snippy."
"Troy!" Gabriella yells.
"Yeah! Like that!"
"Stop!" Gabriella squeaks, attempting to shove him, but only really sliding herself along the couch further away from him.
"You pick fights with dogs you can't possibly win." Troy points out. "Like now, you think you could stand up to a Rottweiler like me?"
"Rottweiler!" Gabriella exclaims in laughter.
"Keep laughing, chihuahua." Troy says, scooting up next to Gabriella again.
"Excuse me, but you're in my territory."
"I think this whole area is my territory, actually. This is my apartment."
"Well, alpha, would you mind getting the pack another creme soda?" Gabriella asks, picking up her empty bottle by its mouth and dangling it between the two of them.
"Of course, I am the hunter and provider, aren't I?" Troy takes the empty bottle from her and quickly gathers the other bottles and wrappers before disappearing back to the kitchen.
Gabriella keeps watching a conflicted Rapunzel and an impatient Flynn Rider as they adventure further and further away from her tower. Troy returns with two full glass bottles, offering one to her as he takes his seat again. Gabriella pops the top of the bottle off and takes a long swig, the crispness of the carbonation popping and crackling on her tongue as a trace of sweet vanilla creme follows.
"Oh," Troy speaks up, "I accidentally got black cherry." He begins to reach his arm out to steal her bottle and says, "Let's switch."
"I don't want black cherry," Gabriella whines, holding her soda tight against her chest to protect it.
"C'mon, switch me." Troy pleads.
"No," Gabriella argues, holding her bottle out the length of her arm away from him. Troy mistakenly holds his path and reaches out for the bottle in front of Gabriella.
The temptation becomes too great for Gabriella to ignore; His forearm is barely a lick away from her mouth. She gives in to her impulsivity and gently bites Troy's arm to deter him from reaching for her drink anymore.
Troy gasps, startled for good reason, "You bit me! God, you actually already are part Chihuahua, aren't you?"
"Would that be a deal breaker?" Gabriella asks with a pout.
"Well, yeah! I wouldn't want to worry about you biting." Troy winks.
Gabriella takes another drink from her bottle and rolls her eyes at his suggestion.
"You wouldn't bite me, would you?" He asks, leaning in to close the space between them.
Feeling exposed underneath the scrutiny of his drowsy, bedroom eyes, she says against her suddenly dry throat, "Not unless you wanted me to." Her words cause a blush to rise to her cheeks and she nervously bites down on her bottom lip.
Troy tilts his head towards hers until he can connect his soft lips with hers. "Please don't," he husks before bracing his hand at the nape of her neck.
Gabriella fights with body briefly, needing to feel in control after the warmth from his proximity sets about a flurrying sensation in her heart. If just feeling the pressure of his ribcage expanding against hers with layers of clothing between them could elicit a reaction from her, she needn't underestimate the effects of an even greater intimate touch.
The real test begins as Troy retreats his lips from hers to venture out along her jawline, then down her neck. She reminds herself to stay in control as his kisses approach her notoriously sensitive patch behind and beneath her earlobe, one that reacts much like an 'ON' switch.
"We don't have to," Troy suddenly abandons his pursuit to speak face to face with her.
"What?" Gabriella questions him, "It was fine."
"Fine," Troy repeats with a knowing look.
"I just-" she begins to explain.
"You're really tense."
"I know," Gabriella admits. "I guess I'm just not as comfortable being the first one to be exposed."
"Well, I feel selfish saying this, but I could go first if you want."
"No, that's not selfish. That's brave."
"If you say so." Troy shrugs.
"Okay," Gabriella says, moving closer to kiss him with her hands gripping at the soft cotton of his shirt. Troy willingly takes his shirt off over his head and slowly leans back against the sofa for Gabriella's eyes to travel around his naked torso.
"Well..." Gabriella sighs, "I guess it's not fair to call it brave when you have a body like that."
"Oh, you mean this?" Troy says, running a hand down his tan abs, smirking as he does so. "I suppose confident could suffice."
"Show off is a better term." Gabriella teases.
She crawls on top of him to continue their kissing as his muscular arms wrap around her, the touch of his bare chest and arms giving her another wave of pleasant drowsiness.
February 13th, 2016.
Saturday.
Troy lazily pushes his sheets away from his body until they pile beneath his feet on the bed. He swings his legs off the side of the bed and stretches his arms out as a large yawn escapes his mouth.
Bing! His phone on the bedside table erupts. What now? He asks himself, a dread setting in at the likelihood of being called into work again.
He unlocks his device and finds his Facebook app to be the cause of the alert. Thank God.
Friend Requests: Kelsi Nielsen (1 mutual friend)
Immediately as he accepts her request, his messenger app lights up with this message:
I apologize for the unprofessional means by which I must contact you. In short, Gabriella and I are experiencing more difficulties with funding than ever before. Our finances will only keep us in the studio through March of this year. Furthermore, the sculptures and drawings are too massive and too numerous to store longterm without draining our few funds left. It is not only the production of our art at stake, but the preservation as well. I would like to ask you to strongly consider sponsoring our studio. Again, lease pardon the median through which I must discuss with you the subject matter of this message. - Kelsi Nielsen
He reads the message a second time, a frown forming on his face at the reiteration.
Bing! A text message from Gabriella comes in, reading:
Dinner 2nite?
Troy responds: Come 2 my place 7.
...
"Yes!" Gabriella exclaims, her knees bouncing up and down giddily as she grips her phone against her chest happily. "Taylor!" She yells into the apartment, diving off of her bed in completely disregard of her near-nakedness to set off towards Taylor's room.
"Taylor!" She barges into the room and finds it deserted. Only the made bed, neat bookshelves, and orderly desk in sight. "Taylor?"
"Gabi..." She hears a tired voice call out to her weakly from the other side of the hallway. She turns around to spot Taylor wielding a spatula. "What do I do every Saturday morning?" She asks her exhaustedly, dark circles beneath her usually bright eyes.
Gabriella scurries through the hallway and pops out on the opposite side in front of Taylor. "Guess what!" She says, glancing at the messages on her phone for reference, "I'm going over to Troy's place for dinner. He told me to come to his place! Isn't that so great? God, he's so fantastic! His pasta is to die for, Taylor. He's such a great cook. I didn't know that was a turn-on for me. Really, he sautés onions and peppers perfectly."
Taylor visibly shudders at the thought, her skin suddenly flushing a tone paler.
"Are you okay?" Gabriella worries.
"Um," Taylor answers, abruptly spinning back into the kitchen and pulling a trashcan out from underneath the sink.
Gabriella stands in shock, watching on as Taylor pukes into the trashcan.
"Sorry," Taylor wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, "my stomach has been weak lately."
"Yeah, but, you said the tests came back negative, right?"
"One did," Taylor admits.
"And the others?"
Taylor glares at Gabriella disapprovingly, as though that was a question she wasn't supposed to ask. "I'm taking care of it, Gabriella," she says.
6:53pm
Gabriella merrily strides though the fancy apartment lobby en route to the elevators. Once inside, she hits for Troy's floor on an upper level and adjusts her white, cut-off tank top. She hooks a lock of hair from her ponytail by her finger and brings it forward to absentmindedly twist and twirl on the ride up. The same smile still on her lips from the night before now rejuvenates itself at the anticipation of being reunited with Troy soon.
The elevator doors part and she takes the few steps across the rustic hardwood floors to Troy's front door. She buzzes the doorbell and hears footsteps approaching from the inside the apartment, when it slowly opens.
"Hey!" She says in a sing-song voice, peaking her head into the apartment. Only once she registers the lack of excitement on his face does she realize something might be wrong. "What's going on?"
"Well," Troy begins, putting his hands in his pockets, "Is there anything going on?"
"No." Gabriella responds, her smile faltering under the heavy tension in the air.
"There's nothing wrong?"
"Is there supposed to be something wrong?"
"You tell me."
"Troy," Gabriella laughs nervously, "I have no idea what this could be about."
"Alright," Troy says impatiently, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He quickly unlocks the device and shows her the screen.
Gabriella sheepishly takes the phone from him to examine the message closer. She feels her face flush red and a panic in her gut. "She wasn't supposed to tell you this."
"Well, were you ever going to?"
"I don't want you to sponsor us," Gabriella defends herself, her face feeling even hotter if at all possible.
"That's not the point, Gabriella!" Troy says, "Why do I have to find out through someone else about my girlfriend losing her art studio?"
"I just didn't want you to feel like you needed to sponsor us," Gabriella says, her voice soft and timid, "I didn't want to ask for money from you; I don't want to ask for money from you."
"If you don't want me to sponsor you, you'd just have to say that and I wouldn't have. It's that simple."
"I know, I told Kelsi we weren't going to ask you. I just can't believe Kelsi told you about all this!"
"I think you're really missing the point, Gabriella. It's not about the money. I'm hurt that my own girlfriend hid this massive problem from me. Why would you not want me to know about this? I mean, don't you think I could at least be emotional support for you? Do you want me to be there for you?"
"Troy, there is no correlation between the situation with my art studio and wanting your support," Gabriella says, her voice faltering underneath her uncertainty of that statement.
"I don't believe that. If you really wanted to be close with me, you would have told me everything. Nothing should be hidden between us."
"Nothing is hidden between us!"
"Obviously this was!"
"Look, Troy, keeping the issues I'm facing in my professional life from you has nothing to do with our closeness as a couple. It's not like I'm hiding anything that involves you or our relationship. I consider us to be extremely close, Troy. We are close!"
"You must have a very lenient definition of close then."
"Okay," Throws her hands up in the air, "Let's agree to disagree!" She declares. Her hands drop back to her hips with a smack, "So, what now?"
Troy shakes his head in disapproval at her attempt to sweep it all under the rug, like he could just forget about her hiding something so monumental from him, "I think you should go."
"You want me to leave now?" Gabriella says in shock.
"Yeah, and I'm not so sure about tomorrow, either."
"Wow, that's great!" Gabriella yells sarcastically, "Break up with me the night before Valentine's Day."
"I'm not breaking up with you. I just need time to think and reconsider things."
"Whatever." Gabriella rolls her eyes angrily and rushes back to the elevator.
February 20th, 2016.
Monday.
Gabriella: Soooo, r we going 2 talk about this ever, or...?
Her message to him from last Wednesday still shows as the most recent in their conversation. Even worse, the faint text beneath it saying, Read.
Gabriella and Troy haven't seen each other since that fateful night last Saturday. Admittedly, that was much to Gabriella's relief. She was in a state of panic the entire day that first Monday back. She solemnly left the safe confines of her small draft studio, terrified he would pass her without the smallest acknowledgment. So all day long, she kept herself occupied in the studio with the easels surrounding her like barricades.
By that Thursday, she made a startling realization. Mr. Jack Bolton was giving her assignments and passing along drafts instead of Troy, which meant that Troy never actually needed to talk to her at work, but rather, had been choosing to the entire time. He didn't make up anymore excuses to see her, and that fact stung more than anything before.
Today, Gabriella nervously twists her body back and forth atop the rotating office chair inside her small office. She scans across the room to the untouched easel and resting beside it, a binder busting with drafts to be redone. Against her professional integrity, her work falls second in priority as she tries to imagine a situation where she wouldn't respond to a similar message. She needs to understand his silence before she can continue about her days as usual. The only situation her imagination can offer is the most dire; he's done with her. Nevertheless, wouldn't he want to break up with her sooner rather than later? She only asked to talk. What could be so scary about that? Just get it over with! She types another message.
Gabriella: U can't even answer me that? Jesus Christ, Troy, let me put it like this: are we over?
Satisfied with the message, she abandons their conversation and crosses the room to her easel. She take a seat on her stool and flips the binder cover over. She holds the next project up to the light to examine the building's small intricacies closer. Unsurprisingly, she's impressed.
After starting at the architecture firm already over a month ago, one thing has become wildly clear, the firm rightfully deserves its fame. This design has proposed a seven stories-high structure in the heart of a developing Los Angeles suburb. Scaling from the bottom of the bulbous building to its top is a triangular, solar panel-covered wall that narrows and limps at its peak, much like the delicate tip of a leaf. The elegance of the design and evident concentration in its production makes Gabriella wonder how her professional drawings could persuade the clients any further. This sketch is already plenty marvelous. Out of curiosity, she flips the sketch over to read of its origins.
Creator(s): Bolton, T. & Danforth, Chad. Assistance by Team 2.
Troy, she thinks fondly. She flips the work back over to admire its details. He's always so precise, she remembers, smiling to herself at the thought of him. Maybe I shouldn't pressure him, she realizes, considering that his quietness might be another example of his concentration, only this time, it was about her. Just as she considers texting him again, she hears a bing.
Troy:
we need 2 talk.
He might as well have just said that we're breaking up since I know that's what 'we need to talk' means anyways. She thinks to herself hopelessly.
"Miss. Montez," The deep, characteristic voice of Mr. Jack Bolton announces his presence from the doorway.
"Hello, Mr. Bolton, can I help you?" Gabriella asks politely, willing herself not to tear up in front of her bosses' eyes that so much resemble Troy's own blues.
"Yes, actually," He says, stepping into the studio and approaching her, his stance tall and strong as usual. "We need to clear out some storage space in the hallway closet. There are a lot of your old pieces in there. I thought I should offer them back to you before we threw them out."
"Sure," Gabriella smiles weakly, "I can take them off your hands."
"Alright, if you need some help I can get Troy to give you a hand down to your car."
"No!" Gabriella says firmly, and then corrects herself, "I mean, thank you, but that won't be necessary. I can handle it."
Flashing her a quizzical look, Mr. Bolton quickly decides it best to not press on and leaves her be.
Gabriella throws her hands up and behind her head in defeat. She lays her head down on the desk for her flushed face to rest and probably simmer against the cool glass.
She hears her door open and immediately shoots up to sit in her chair properly. He enters the room, slouching against the doorframe in a stance that resembled the exhaustion she felt, too. "Do you have a minute?" Troy asks curtly.