"I've never told you anything about my past Troy," I said, "so now I will."

I breathed in slowly, and got ready to speak. I was actually kind of nervous.

"Since I was five . . . I wanted to be a singer," I explained, "I was singing before I could talk . . . I started lessons at a young age. My mother couldn't get me to stop singing! The neighbors actually complained about me singing to loud."

I paused, hoping that Troy wasn't mad that I had lied when I told him I had never thought about singing before. I looked up at him and he was smiling, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

"What?" I asked blushing.

"Nothing . . . I just pictured a little five year old you," he laughed.

I poked him, "You interrupted me."

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, leaning back into his chair, "shoot."

"I was in a lot of musicals for younger kids . . . the community musical theater. I can't even remember how many I was in. There were countless people who would come, 'big' people who would tell me that they would make me famous if I was older. I was too young to have it faze me," I explained, "Naturally, all the kids in school hated me because of my talent, and because of the praise I received. That's when I started to become the quiet girl who read books."

"But Gab . . . I don't get it," Troy interrupted again, "If you were this good experienced singer, then why couldn't you sing in front of an audience a few weeks ago?"

"I'm getting to that . . ." I protested, "shush."

I breathed in again, realizing that maybe I should have told him sooner . . . it wasn't that bad, he wasn't mad about me lying. I had confidence that everything would be okay.

"New Year's Eve was the first time I sang in three weeks," I explained, "I stopped singing in musicals because it reminded me too much of a fan I lost . . . my biggest fan."

"But . . . what does this have to do with Chad?" he questioned.

"Chad's mom is a doctor," I told him.

A puzzled look spread across his face, "You're not sick are you?"

"No, Troy . . . I want you to meet someone, but you can't, he's not here." I confessed, "My twin brother, Carlos Montez has been in a coma for a few weeks."

For some reason, I felt the need to take a picture of the stunned expression on his face.

"But . . . what happened?" he asked suddenly.

"Well, we were in a car accident," I said, starting to choke up, "and he was the only one seriously hurt. He . . . used to come to my shows, and he used to sing with me at home. I hadn't sung a word since the accident, since before I met you."

"I bet . . . he's a really great guy Gabriella," Troy decided, "I mean, he if he has the same genes as you right?"

I giggled, as a small clear tear fell from my eye.

"I didn't want to know because I didn't want to you be mad that I lied . . . I didn't want to explain everything to someone I didn't know yet," I explained, "and I didn't want anyone else to know, or to try out for the musical at first because I didn't want them to hate me like the people did at my other school."

He gave me a comforting hug, and I understood what he was trying to say . . . that he was sorry.

"My mom thought it would be a good idea to start over, because she sensed that I was upset," I said, "she thought starting over would give me that chance, and since she got offered a new job . . . it was the perfect time."

I paused.

"Sometimes I wonder why it couldn't have been me who got hurt, instead of him. But . . . there is a chance he might wake up soon," I said, "and they say that he might not have any permanent damage."

"I really hope I get to meet him," Troy said, squeezing my hand.

"So . . . you're not mad I kept this from you?"

"Not at all," he said, "unless . . ."

"Unless . . .?"

"Unless you say no to my question . . . then I could possibly become mad."

"Oh . . . the big question," I teased.

"It's not like I'm asking you to marry me!" he exclaimed, "I thought this is what you wanted."

"Don't you want me to go out with you?"

"Of course, why else would I be asking?"

"It's called . . . I am giving you a hard time Troy Bolton," I laughed, "of course I'll go out with you."

There was an awkward pause as he blushed, ". . . uh Gabs?"

"Yeah?"

"I've never really had a girl friend before."

"You? Mr. Popularity basketball guy Troy Bolton has never had a girlfriend?" I teased.

"Yeah . . . I just never really liked any of the girls that had a crush on me," he admitted, "They weren't like you."

"Well, I've never had a boyfriend before," I admitted as well.

"A girl as pretty as you?" he asked, smiling.

"No . . ." I said, obviously flattered.

"Then we'll be each other's firsts." he decided.

"First . . . what?" I asked, surprised.

"No! Not like that . . ." he laughed, "That's not at all what I meant.

"You meant like first . . ."

Kiss. I finished my sentence in my mind.

I hadn't even thought of that, not since he had almost kissed me after the basket ball game that one day. I smiled at the thought of it, and was aware of our bodies moving closer together. The sun was coming down, and I realized it was the perfect time and setting for this all-important first.

"Gabriella!" my mother called up the stairs.

I groaned in frustration. This first would have to wait. Troy looked at me, seeming a little embarrassed.

"Uh Troy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not allowed to have anyone over on school nights."

"Ohhh," he said, getting the picture and starting to make the short climb over the side of the balcony, "Goodnight Gabriella."

"Goodnight Troy."

I smiled to myself again, but it was all interrupted by my mom again, "GABRIELLA!"

"Coming mom!" I yelled, coming back to reality and dashing down the stairs, "I'm sorry . . . I uh . . . fell asleep."

She had a stressed but still pleased look on her face.

"I just got back from the hospital," she explained.

"And?" I asked hopefully.

"And they think Carlos might wake up within a week . . . it's only a prediction though."

I took a deep breath. I was happy . . . I could have my brother back.

Carlos would love Troy.

Carlos might get to see me in the musical.

A week from today . . . today is a week from the opening night of the musical.

The next morning I was in the best mood, it was as if a heavy loud had been lifted off of me . . . and I was more like the old Gabriella . . . the one who sang her heart out.

At first I was scared that Troy had caused me to be like the little me who wasn't afraid of everyone so much, the one who didn't use her brains to cover up her singing talents. But I was glad for it. I was so lucky to have him . . . even more than I could realize right now.

It was like one of those moments in the movies where everything us in slow motion. That's how it was for me today, seeing Troy walking toward me.

"Hey beautiful," he said boldly as I stuck my head into my locker to grab books for first period.

"Hey . . . you," I said, laughing as I shut it.

"I'll take those," he offered, taking my books.

So this was what having a boyfriend was about. I couldn't deny that I liked it. I could feel the butterflies in both of our stomachs.

"Hey Gabbi baby!" Sharpay exclaimed, walking between Troy and I, as if to separate us.

"Hi Sharpay," I answered, hoping she didn't sense the frustration in my voice.

"Hey," Troy echoed, winking at me when her head was turned.

Those darn butterflies.

"Something is different about you today," Sharpay noticed, "and I just can't put my finger on it.

I glanced at my reflection as we went passed a trophy case. It was no wonder Troy couldn't keep his eyes off of me today. I was wearing a baby pink tee-shirt, a brand new jean skirt, and my hair was down my back in long waves. It was a good outfit, but there was something else . . . I hated to admit Sharpay was right.

"I got it!" she exclaimed, "You have . . . a glow Gabriella! You have caught the love bug!"

"Love bug?"

"Oh come on . . . well all know dear . . . you and Troy think no one knows you have a thing."

I tried not to meet Troy's eyes; otherwise I would have burst out laughing.

"Anyway . . ." she continued, looking into the trophy case, "isn't it beautiful?"

Troy and I both looked at the first place basketball trophy.

"Sure . . . but I'm surprised you're not protesting about how there are no drama club trophies," Troy noticed.

"Trophies? Who was talking about Trophies?" she asked.

"You were looking at-"Troy started.

"I was talking about my hair," she informed him, slightly offended she threw back her long blond locks and walked away.

A moment of since passed, and then Troy and I busted out laughing. He placed a protective arm around me, and we started walking again, ready to face the day. . .

A day that had a lot more left in store for us.