ET CHAPTER 8: Sweet Dreams or Nightmares

It was 7:45 am on another Wednesday morning in Albuquerque. The blue skies and warm sun were hidden behind gloomy, gray clouds, the air lost any warmth it had previously and was now in usual, freezing winter weather, and, like any morning, was too early for anyone to be there.

Then again, Troy's mind was really tired after barely surviving the holidays.

The week before Thanksgiving vacation went by quickly, filled with endless homework assignments and tests and quizzes. It ended with a "friendly" basketball game between East High Wildcats and West High Knights. The Wildcats won 42 to 40.

His dad wasn't pleased the points were so close, but nevertheless forgot about it as soon as the team was handed another gold, shiny trophy to add to the collection.

Everyone had big plans for the Thanksgiving weekend, either staying or leaving home. He and his friends were no expectations. Chad was staying home while relatives near and far were coming to his house. Taylor's family went to New Jersey, the Evans clan were headed to Paris, French and Kelsi gone back to Nebraska for the holidays. Zeke and Jason's families come together to celebrate a huge Thanksgiving feast at Zeke's, a tradition they've been doing every year since they were next door neighbors. As for the Boltons, they traveled to Maine, where they celebrated Thanksgiving at his grandmother's house.

It was the same tradition they did every year, always the same routine. Carry apple pie and Doris's homemade tuna casserole to the door. Smile when Grandma opens the door, her wrinkled sweet face flushed in excitement and slight shock before she invites you in. Accept the sloppy, lipstick-stained kisses and spine-crushing hugs from aunts. The sometimes gentle, some hard hearty slaps on the backs from uncles. And the barely-looking glances and fake smiles from cousins who had better things to do than acknowledge you.

Sure, it was boring. It was also annoying. But there was a familiarity about it Troy liked. Well, not exactly like, but he did get comfort from it.

Troy successfully managed to eat a plateful of food, let his mind wonder throughout most of the dinner, and able to sneak back into reality just in time to answer questions family would ask him. There was no hesitance or stumble; because it was the very same questions they asked every family gathering.

"How are your grades looking, Troy?"

"Just great, Aunt Mallory. Getting straight A's."

"My boy, you've grown. How tall are you?"

"About 5'12, Uncle Matt. Another inch I'll be six feet tall."

"You are so handsome, Troy. I bet you're quite the heartbreaker, leaving behind a long trail of hearts."

He'd blush and answer "I wouldn't say that, grandma."

Following the routine and having that comfort was what he loved. No surprises. Everything accounted for and needs no worries. Nothing unexpected.

That was the way things kept going until a certain thing was said.

"Glad to know you're doing amazing in basketball," said his favorite uncle, Toby. He was his dad's twin brother, born ten minutes earlier. The difference between the two was the fact Toby wore glasses and was scruffier compared to his dad and the different personalities. Jack was the outgoing athletic in the family while Toby was the quiet artist. Also, Toby was the nicer one out of the two. Often, Troy wished his uncle was his dad since he seemed to get him better. "My little brother says you're really whipping the team into shape."

Taking a bite of his gravy-coated mashed potatoes, Troy glanced quickly at his dad. Jack smiled pleasantly while his eyes told another story, filled with warning. "Yeah, the team is doing great."

"You're being modest," his dad said, taking over the conversation. "The Wildcats are doing amazing and will definitely win the championships."

Troy said nothing, but his over anxious and drunken great uncle, Albert, did. Commenting loudly how it won't be long before Troy was in U of A, playing basketball and going pro. The first Bolton to ever make it far.

His obnoxious, twelve year old cousin, Andy, couldn't let that go without adding a comment of his own. "That's not true, Uncle Al. You've definitely been drinking too many shots. Don't you remember? Mike would have gone pro. He would have been playing in the LA Lakers if it wasn't for-"

Aunt Penny reached across the table to stuff his mouth with mashed potatoes. But it was too late; the damage was already done. Everyone froze and fell into silence that was heavy and awkward. And, though, Troy's head thankfully was lowered, he felt their eyes looking at him.

His mom quickly excused herself from the table, needing to make a call. Troy, too, excused himself. His dad stayed behind, smiling brilliantly and restarting conversation again into a different topic, but there was nothing that could undo the damage already done.

Dinner, then, was awkward all throughout and the awkwardness continued to hover around as they said their goodbyes. Most wouldn't even look him in the eye.

His grandmother, who took her time hugging him instead of quickly wrapping her arms around him and letting go too soon, held him tightly. "Nobody blames you, sweetheart," she murmured into his ear. "We know it was an accident. A horrible one, but it happens."

It was sweet, somewhat touching. But held no comfort because Troy saw the truth just by looking into her eyes.

If dinner wasn't bad enough, the ride back home was horrible. Silent and filled with such thick tension the sharpest knife couldn't cut it. Jack kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping tightly onto the wheel and gritting his teeth. Beside him, Lucille cleverly kept her head down while fidgeting with her Blackberry. Neither of them said a word to Troy since dinner or looked back once during the long, tensed drive.

When the Boltons came home, Lucille was already out the door again. She needed to get to the airport, so she can catch her last minute flight to New York. Apparently, there was some business she had to take care of that couldn't wait until tomorrow. His dad went into his study with two bottles of strong bourbon and a six-pack, yelling he didn't want anyone to bug him. Troy was left alone to deal with his own "business" like his parents.

He did so without leaving the country or drowning himself in liquor. He went into his darkroom, drowning himself in his photos and film.

Troy hasn't seen his mom since she left that night. He barely heard from her at all since work seemed to be taking her all time. He only saw his dad several times during the break, coming out for more liquor or finding Troy so he can yell and beat him.

Troy heard the loud second bell ringing inside the school. According to the time on his dashboard, it was 8:06, which means everyone's either in or rushing to homeroom. Everyone except him that is.

It was official. For the first time in history, Troy Alexander Bolton was late for school. Exactly ten minutes. Odd, because he arrived thirty minutes early than anyone else.

His backpack on the passenger seat and extra large Dunkin Donuts coffee in the cup holder, he was all set and ready to go. But something wouldn't let him, making him sit quietly inside his car while he watched friends rushing over to greet each other, hugging and laughing, and heading inside the school. Minutes passed by and he was still in his car, frozen in his seat while his mind was filled with too many thoughts.

Another Thanksgiving came and gone, Troy thought. Just as awkward as last year and the year before that. And the one before that.

He leaned his head against the chair and yawned, his whole body losing whatever little energy it had left in his body. Reminding him of the little sleep he had last night. Just like the night before, and the one before that, and one before that one, too. For the past several weeks, he barely had a wink of sleep ever since that Saturday when he danced with the devil.

Or angel?

He wasn't sure if it was the way she looked like (which was breathtaking). The feel of her touch (which was electrical as the glow of her intense eyes). Or the way their bodies were pressed against each other, fitting perfectly as they moved together. All Troy knew was, for one reason or the other, he hasn't been able to get Gabriella Montez out his mind.

That Saturday night after the dancing, Troy retreated to his room after a near two-hour beating from his very angry and drunken father and crawled into bed, sleeping like the dead. The moment he closed his eyes, all he saw was her. Her long, raven hair his fingers ached to run his fingers through, her strange gaze that always did something to his heart whenever he met it, and her lips he couldn't stop thinking about. And had the strongest urge to get a taste of them.

In his dreams, they were often dancing in either a slow and graceful waltz or a hot and fast tango, with little space between their bodies. In some dreams, he was following her to an unknown place. Her strange tattoo would be glowing, and she'd never once look back to see if he was following. Somehow, she knew he was and the sense of thrilling danger always made him follow her. Recently, though, the dreams were becoming intense.

Ones where they were kissing. And not even soft pecks, but full-blown kisses that were anything but soft. Kisses that were desperate, hungry, and passionate, all whilst their tongues did a dance that was sultry as any tango and dangerous as a battle. Sometimes, in the dreams, they didn't stop there. They would go beyond kissing, slowly peeling off each other's clothes and giving all to one another.

Last night dream was no expectation.

Troy could still feel their lips pressed against each other, the kisses lingering and indescribably amazing. How he thought he died and went straight to heaven the second Gabriella undid the knot holding her lingerie together and the silk slide down her body, baring it all. Hearing her soft moans calling out to him. Her lips going lower and lower, reaching the jackpot.

Her lips were soft but firm, as well as her tongue. Doings things to him and making him feel things he didn't think were possible.

Against his better judgment, Troy closed his eyes, glimpses of the dream flashing through his mind. How wrong yet right it felt being with Gabriella. Her kisses that erased anything and everything, but the feeling their lips created together. Her lips doing unbelievable things to his penis.

The more he thought about it, the harder he was becoming. He could feel a bulge swelling up in his pants, getting harder and hornier each second. Desire hit him hard, engulfing him. How was it possible for him to feel this way? And over a dream?

He wasn't stupid. He was a seventeen year old boy with high hormones that always went into overdrive when it comes to the opposite sex. He even had a few sex dreams in the past, which would come as a shock to a lot of people. But none of them-not one-ever made his body, or his penis, feel his needy and eager in and out of the dream.

Resisting the urge to groan, Troy cracked his eyes open a bit and his heart, along with the rest of his body, froze in a heated second. Perched onto his lap was the dark, temping angel herself, smirking at his shocked expression, dressed in the same naughty French lingerie she wore in the dream that left little to the imagination.

Before he could say a word, she pressed a finger against her lips, silencing him. He obeyed. She then slowly pulled on the rubber band holding her hair into a tight bun, freeing the raven locks she shook loose. She leaned in close to her, placing her hands on his shoulders, and whispered in his ear "You know you want me, pup."

No I don't, he thought, resisting. He wouldn't give into temptation so easily, no matter how tight his pants were suddenly becoming. He was stronger than that. School, U of A, finally being free from Dad. No distractions whatsoever, so nothing can get in the way. You shouldn't even like her. She's reckless, dangerous, and can be a real pest-

Gabriella blow long, hot air into his ear, silencing all his thoughts in a second. Heart racing fast, words was struck in his throat and he trembled uncontrollably. As much as he didn't want to, he titled his head back to loudly moan, unable to hold it in. She seized the opportunity by kissing the sensitive part of his neck, pressing her body more against his.

As painful as it was not to give in and let her win, Troy couldn't. But her kisses were powerful weapons, diminishing every fiber of his resistance till there was barely enough for him to use. Sweat beaded across his forehead, dripping down his face, and the moans he has been trying to keep down were overpowering him.

"Gabriella." He muttered between moans. His hands, proving to be traitors, trailed up her unclothed back, feeling her soft skin.

She pulled back from his neck against his wishes. He groaned, protesting, but was soon moaning again as she placed her finger against his chest. Slowly she moved her finger down, leaving a burning trail in its wake, making him moan louder and louder, until her hand reached upon the jackpot.

"I…I…I…" He could barely remember what he was saying, or trying to try. The only thing he could concentrate on was the sound his zipper being pulled down and Gabriella's hand slipped through his boxers. He gasped at the soft touch as her hand settled on his penis and moaned loud as her hand began to move.

It was slow and soft, caressing almost and driving him absolutely crazy. The pressure, so much pressure, was building up inside him, threatening to explode any second.

Gabriella looked down at his huge "friend", felt the hard member, and smirked at Troy. Raising an eyebrow, she murmured "My, my, my. Who'd ever guess pup was a real hard one?"

She tiptoed two fingers across his member, encircling around the end. Something hot, sticky, and wet exploded from him, coming out long and hard. Troy threw his head back and groaned hard, no longer feeling like he was being weighted down but inside freed in pure ecstasy-like heaven.

Panting hard, he opened his eyes to see Gabriella removing her hand from his stained, damp boxers. Her hand was covered in him. Keeping her eyes on him, she licked off it off one finger at a time, rolling her tongue slowly over each one, making the hardness come back again with vengeance.

Troy watched her, paralyzed and turned on. With her last finger licked clean, she dropped that finger onto his trembling lips, brushing against them.

Don't you want me, her dark, seductive eyes said to him.

To hell with it!

Without giving it a second thought, Troy grabbed her face and gave into the temptation. And dear God was it ever amazing. He didn't just kiss her. He devoured her, kissing her hard and hungrily, feeding off her sweet kisses like they were the food he starved for. Cupping her face properly, he added more and more passion to his kisses. Gabriella smirked against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck while matching the intensity of his kisses with her own.

"Gabriella. Gabriella." he murmured against her lips, running his hand through her sleek mane.

"Troy." His name sounded like music the way it rolled off her tongue.

"Gabriella." She was beginning to pull away from him. He couldn't let that happen. He needed her and her sweet kisses. As he leaned in, she slipped through his fingers. He moved closer and closer.

He pressed his lips against the horn, letting off a loud beep that scattered his eardrums. The noises startled him so much; he banged his head against the car ceiling. Red stars briefly but painfully darted across his vision.

"Okay, its official," he murmured, wincing as he hesitantly touched his head. Doubtless, by the painful throbbing, he knew a huge bump would appear in no time. "I'm losing it."

The sound of a motorcycle took his attention away from the pain made him turn around. He watched the familiar black Hurley riding into the parking lot, parking in front of the school.

With two passengers on it.

Gabriella unwrapped her arms around the driver's waist and took off her helmet. She shook her head loose, grabbed her things, and walked away.

Before she took another step, the driver grabbed her hand and pulled her back. Troy didn't know who it was since the black helmet covered his face, but knew, by the muscular physique and broad shoulders, it was indeed a guy. Troy couldn't hear what was going on, but the guy must have said something nice because a smile, a small one but unmistakably a smile, spread across her lips.

Troy was stunned. It was the first time he saw a smile that lasted longer on her face than a moment. Seeing her smile made her look even more beautiful. Softer and less hard-core.

The guy said something again and Gabriella not only smiled again, but she laughed, too. From Troy's distance, he made out the sound of her laughter, which was soft and bubbly. Carefree, almost. Not at all like the laugh had he expected. Watching them together, seeing the guy making her laugh, made something dark and murderous bit inside Troy.

She wrapped her arms around the guy's neck and leaned forward. The guy angled his body towards Gabriella, wrapping his arms around her waist and blocking Troy from their view. But, from his distance, it looked like they were…kissing.

He gripped his hand on the steering wheel, trembling uncontrollably in rage. The longer the two stayed together, the more and more Troy trembled in what felt like anger.

He got out of the car and headed towards them, his fists clenched and tight. Breaking them up, he pushed Gabriella aside, ignoring her protests and knocked the guy out cold with a single punch to the jaw. Gabriella watched, stunned. Feeling triumph and, for once being the smirking, he grabbed her, dipped her low, and kissed him with everything he had and felt her passionate response.

In reality, Troy was cars away from the Harley, the driver was perfectly fine, and Gabriella was in his arms instead of Troy's. Once they break apart-finally!- Gabriella headed inside after giving the guy a peck on the cheek and a two-finger salute wave, the guy rode off with a loud roar, and Troy was once again left alone in the parking lot.

So, this is what jealously feels like? He thought, nodding. It took him a moment to realize what he was thinking and shocked, stiff.

Jealously? I'm jealous?

"Seriously. What's with you, man?" Chad asked, as the boys stood side by side their lockers, unloading their backpacks. Around them, the halls were filled with students passing by, heading off to wherever they needed to go.

"Nothing." Troy said for the 586th time today. To the same question Chad's been asking since he came to school half an hour late to everyone's amazement.

"You're lying." Chad concluded easily, after taking one look at him. They've been best friends for so long; it was easy to tell when something was ticking him off.

Ignoring his friend, Troy shut his locker hard with a bang, attracting the attention of dozens of students passing by.

Leaning against his locket, Chad looked more serious and a bit concerned. "I'm serious, man. What's with you?"

Troy pretended he had no idea what he was talking about, and Chad listed his reasons for being suspicious. First, he was late. He's known Troy since they were three and no matter what, no matter how sick he was, he always came to school on time. Second, in his classes, he never raised his hand or answered a question. Third, he was barely here. At lunch, when everyone was catching up, he was looking down at his sad lunch, his mind thousands away.

"Does it have anything to do with your dad?" asked Chad. Even though all friends knew his relationship with his dad was anything but the warm, loving father-son relationship, only Chad knew a bit more about what's going on behind the Boltons' closed door. He doesn't know about the beatings, which Troy plans to stay that way, but he does know his dad's tendency to pick up the bottle whenever things got intense. Then, when intense turns very stressful, he takes it out on him.

Troy shook his head. For once his dad wasn't the main problem.

"School?" A shaken head was Troy's response. "Basketball?" Another shake head.

"Okay," Chad nodded, thinking. It wasn't school, it wasn't the team, and, oddly enough, it wasn't his dad. Then what could be wrong? "Does it have anything to do with a certain Miss Montez?"

An image of Gabriella leaning towards the driver and he wrapping his arms around her popped into Troy's mind, reminding him of the confused but angry feelings he felt this morning. It came back full force, making him tremble in angry.

His friends already teased him to a no-end about his "crush" on Montez. The school already had ridiculous rumors of the two of them once word spread they were partners for a project. He couldn't trust Chad with this.

Without a word, he grabbed his backpack and strode off to the gym to meet his dad for a private practice.

Chad watched him go, taking no offense to the cold-shoulder act. He was honestly amused. No matter what Troy may say about her or what's going on between them, the girl definitely has him under her spell.

About time someone does, he thought, smiling to himself.

"There are sine things you can't control, Troy," Chad yelled after him. "And she's a good example."

The last thing Troy wanted to do was practice more basketball with his father. Free period was his last class of the day and there were hundreds of things he'd rather do. Like catch up with his friends and this time listen to them as they talked about their vacation break. Finish the month's worth of homework due the next day. Or go to the library and read a good book.

His rocky relationship with his father, however, was already going downhill fast. Ten times more badly than before. So for the sake of moment's peace, Troy went and endured it all. The aches and pains hurting his body, his dad's loud and angry voice calling out to him, and his dad's fixation of throwing the ball at the back of his head whenever he felt Troy was being lazy.

"Get your head in the game!" Jack roared, throwing the ball hard against his stomach and he nearly dropped to his knees from the hard hit.

Resisting the urge to groan, Troy took the ball and dribbled across the court, determined. He faked left, making Jack slightly stumble, faked right, and spun around his heel, ready to shoot.

Before he could make it, his dad came up all of the suddenly and swapped his face, banging in his nose hard and knocking him to the ground.

"Fucking hell!" he swore softly. Blood dripped from his nose in streams. He touched it lightly and saw crimson on his hand.

"Weak," Jack roared over his fallen son. "That's what you are. Fucking weak!"

Troy closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip hard, nearly drawing out blood. He tried blocking out the pain, the shouting, everything, so he can comfortably numb.

"Unbe-fucking-lievable! A captain taken down so easily. If you think this is painful, try this one on for size," Waves of pain bashed against him as he was kicked in the lower back. This time, more streams of blood oozed from Troy's mouth as he tried holding in a scream. His dad, as usual, didn't give a damn. He kept on screaming. "West Knights are brutal. Brutal! If you can get knocked down easily during practice, only God knows what will happen when you actually go against them."

His dad didn't stop there. He told Troy he better man up or step down. That he was lazy, worthless, spineless, and weak. He kept yelling he was weak, over and over again till it seemed the word was echoed in the hollow gym. Each insult hit him as hard as any punch or kick.

Troy tried blocking out everything. Tried imagining he was in his happy place, which was his dark room, developing his photos in peace, where his dad and demons couldn't get to him. But there was only so many blows and yelling a person can take before they snap.

"Why not just announce to the whole world, dad?" Troy slowly got up on his feet. His nose and lip were caked with blood and pain vibrated nearly every inch of his body. But he was too pissed to feel it. "Broadcast it on YouTube? Or why not CNN so everyone can know?"

"I know for a fact you're not talking back-" For the first time in his life, Troy actually cut off his dad. Normally, he'd never do such a thing, but he was that pissed.

"Tell them how much you despise me. How much you hate me. That I'm worthless and weak. A waste of space. Unwanted and unneeded," Troy continued. "Or why not come out and just say it? Tell them all-the whole friggering whole-I'm not him!"

There, he said. He actually said it. And it felt good. For a moment.

Huffing and puffing, Troy could his anger that seconds ago was ready to erupt went down back to nothing. By the time he completely wore off all his anger, he took notice how quiet Jack was.

Looking up at him, Troy saw his dad wasn't only quiet, but shocked. Wide-eyed, body frozen, silent shocked, Jack resembled Troy's expression to an unexpected blow. Then, just a soon as it was getting too much or going in too deep, it was gone. Like someone flipped off the switch. He composed himself into calmness. Controlled, expressionless calmness.

A mask Troy knew of and wore often.

His dad looked him straight in the eye and said "You're right. You're not him. You are not at all like Mike. Because unlike you, he wasn't an idiotic failure. Unlike you, the sight of him didn't sicken me. He made me proud, a simple thing a jackass like you can never do. He was perfect, a true Bolton. And now he's gone and I'm struck with you."

All because of you. The words weren't said, but they were there. Hanging over their heads, being whispered in the loud silence.

With all his might, fueled by anger and faux calmness, Jack lunged the ball into Troy's stomach so hard, Troy nearly coughed out blood. Then he left without a single word.

Troy kicked the ball away, sickened by it. His dad's words stung. More than his cruel insults and brutal beatings. It hit him harder any punch, slap, or kick his dad could do, with ten hundred times more force. Mainly because everything, every word, was true.

No matter what his dad said or how painful the beatings were, nothing was more hurtful or painful than those true words.

"No matter what, Troy, nothing could break the M.T bond."

"You promise, Mike?"

"Always. I'll never leave you Troy."

Nausea hit him heard, churning wildly in his stomach. He felt a lump, huge and dry, wedged in his throat, suffocating him.

"How'd do you like it?"

"Awesome. Thanks for taking me. It was the most-Mike, watch out!" It was all he could say before everything went black.

He couldn't breathe. The lump kept building up. Tears burned his eyes, threatening to come out even as he was trying with all his might not to.

"Where is he?" he yelled frantically. Hundreds of IVs' were entangled around him, pinned into his body. So many people were surrounding him, checking his pulse, his temperature, his heartbeat, it was suffocating. He needed to know what happened and where was his brother. "Where's Mike?"

"He's gone," It was the first two words his dad said to him that night, speaking them coldly. He looked at his son in disgust. "Because of you."

With an angry cry, Troy picked up the ball and threw it with all his might against the wall. It hit the wall so hard, it nearly left a dent. Troy sat down on the top bleachers, buried his face in his hands, and tried to pull it together.

But it wouldn't go away. A pack of emotions hit him all at once, eating away at him. Sadness, rage, grief, bitterness, with betrayal and guilt, the biggest ones, all wrapped into one.

Betrayal by Mike who promised nothing could break them apart. That he would never leave him.

Guilt for being angry.

Guilt for feeling betrayed.

Guilt for being selfish.

Guilt for being the one who was lucky. The unwanted one. While the wanted, supposed lucky one was unlucky that night.

No, no, no! Troy said to himself over and over again while the emotions grew stronger. He wasn't going to cry. He wouldn't cry.

He heard footsteps coming into the gym, and didn't bother to look up. Not even when he felt the person's presence next to him.

A white napkin was handed to him.

Troy hesitantly took the napkin, but not before looking down at the pair of gray slouch uggs standing in front of him instead of his dad's expensive Italian loafers. His eyes slowly went up to the black skinny cropped jeans, to a long, graphic gray tank top, to a familiar, Latina face looking down at him.

Oh shit! Of all the things to happen, Gabriella had to walk in and see him at his worst moment.

For a moment the two of them did nothing but stare at each other in silence. Unreadable brown eyes looking into blood-shot blue, neither revealing anything. Saying nothing.

Finally Troy, seeing he had no choice, took the napkin and Gabriella took that as her cue to sit beside him. She brought out her lighter and Marlboro packs, lit a cigarette, and had herself a smoke, saying and nothing.

He watched her smoking for a minute, and then realized his face still looked horrible. It was the pain from his noise and crusted blood that reminded him.

Gabriella was on her second cigarette by the time he wiped up most of the blood. He knew there were a few bruises, but the best hope he had was people believing it was from a few knocks from practice.

He looked at her again, studying every flawless but distant feature while she smoked away.

She knew.

The realization hit Troy hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him while filling him with shame. He couldn't say how or knew how, but could feel it in his gut.

"Look," He didn't know where to being or what to say. Normally the closest thing people have to the truth was suspicion, which he was able to shut down with quick wit and exclamation. Except Gabriella didn't have suspicious. She knew just by hearing the yelling and probably witnessing the abuse.

"What you saw back there was…nothing," It was the only thing he could say at the moment that was true. Compared to his dad's infamous trauma moments, this one was somewhat tamed. "My dad's just stressed out. Really stressed out. He can lose it a lot most of the time, but it's because he's under a lot pressure-"

"Story of my life." She repeated the exact words he said to her dance at Vicznor's. It was the first four words he heard from her the whole day, for almost two week actually. When she turned to her, there was something in her eyes. Something that was like sympathy, but deeper and entirely different.

Almost like understanding.

He wondered what kind of things she experienced herself that made her see things through his eyes.

Taking one last drag, she dropped the cigarette onto the ground and stomped on it. She didn't bother hiding it.

He moved out of her way as she got out and walked down the bleacher steps. He was surprised. No questions, no other comments, no sugar-coding. It was the second time in a row she seen his imperfections but made no comment.

Gabriella then stopped as she was close to the last step, turned back to him, and asked "You coming?"

"What?"

"Are you coming?" she says slowly and carefully like she was talking to a kid.

"What?" He knew he must have looked stupid repeating it again, but he couldn't help it. He was that shocked. There was no way Gabriella Montez, Miss Lone Wolf, actually asked him if he wanted to come with her. He rubbed his head tenderly, wondering how hard his dad threw the ball.

He caught the solemn look in her eye and knew she wasn't kidding. "Why?" he couldn't resist asking.

She shrugged simply as if that alone was good enough for an answer.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Everywhere. Nowhere," she shrugged again. "Anywhere but here."

"Montez, are you out of your mind. We can't just leave school?" He'll admit he was tempted to leave because she couldn't stand being in the gym another minute, but his obedient side kicked in and knocked sense into him.

She looked at him as if maybe she shouldn't give him a chance. Like maybe he wasn't worth an invitation. "Why?"

"For one, my dad is-"

"Long gone," she says. "He went into his office, looking very pissed, and won't be coming back. So you're safe."

"Well," He hadn't expected that. "Free period or not, we still have to be in school. It's the rule."

Gabriella rolled her eyes, irritated, and shook her head. "You're such a goody-goody aren't you, Bolton," she said, and then looked him in the eyes. "Sometimes, pup, rules are meant to be broken."

Those were the same words she said to him the first time they met when he caught her sneaking off to detention. They've been stuck into his head since then.

"What do you have to lose?" she challenged, walking back towards him. She held her hand to her.

Troy looked at her small hand, then up at her. At this strange, unusual girl he couldn't understand. The girl he couldn't get off his mind. The same girl who always surprises him.

Lord knows he'll get hell for leaving school. He and Lord both knew his dad would slaughter him if he left. Then he looked into those bewitching eyes saying things to him. Things he knew, things she knew, things he didn't understand but wanted to find out.

So he took her hand.