ET Chapter 12: Perfection Scattered (continuation)
A huge six story house stood in front of her.
To say that it was a mansion would be an understatement. It was way too big to be considered a mansion. The way it was sized and by the huge height, three to four gigantic mansions combined together to make a humongous house that could fit thousands of people seemed about right.
The house looked like it belonged on an episode of Cribz. It basically defined the term of "luxury". Each floor had balconies with a hammock and summer table set. The roof was a wide sun deck. Double door garage showing off a dozen of expensive, brand-new cars she could only dream of owning. A huge basketball court by the left. A huge swimming pool in the back. The huge front porch was wide, about twenty lengths with fancy steps.
"Jesus." Gabriella murmured to herself, kicking the stand to her bike and pulling off her helmet. Dear sweet Jesus, she thought, taking her time going to the front door as her eyes glanced around the house. You could fit all the apartments and the buildings in her block and there would still be enough more to fit a thousand more.
By the time she approached the front door, someone who must have heard her motorcycle and seen her staring opened the door for her. He was middle-height black man with whitish-gray hair, wore a pressed black suit, and reminded her of Jeffery from the Fresh Prince of Bell-Air. She had a good feeling this butler might be just as proper and sassy as he was.
His black eyes scrutinized her, inspecting her. Gabriella met his gaze with a full-force hard glare, crossing her arms against her chest. She didn't know what he was looking for, but knew there was nothing wrong with how she looked. Her hair was done in a loose ponytail, and she was dressed in a red cami and black yoga pants, the perfect outfit for dancing. Okay, so maybe her top was mid-bare exposing, but who honestly cared? They were in the twenty first century and nearly every girl had tops like these. Some way more wild and revealing than the one she was wearing. If this guy expected her to come in some dolled-up, frilly and lacy number with high heel stilettos, then he had another thing coming.
His gaze lingered longer on her tattoos, the Hindu flower she had on her stomach and the angel/devil one on her shoulder blade, followed by her piercings, then across her face, staring at her. When he met her eyes, he looked like he was about to say something, maybe to look more decent or remove "those things" on her face. But he sighed and instead said, with a half smile on his face, in a smooth British accent "Good morning, miss. I'm Gregory Princeton, head of household and butler. You must be Miss Montez."
"Yeah," she nodded slowly. "That would be me."
Nodding, Gregory let her inside and showed her the house on the bottom floor. Everything from the hallway that was hung famous paintings, the living room that was sleek and chic and decorated in earth tones, the huge kitchen and dining room next door that looked more like restaurants, and the shiny floors looked like it was part of a magazine. Hell, it was as if she was Alice when she was shrunken down to ant's size and everything was fifty times bigger. The rooms, the furniture, even the length of the staircase that looked like it belonged to Gone with the Wind.
Gregory left her alone in the living room, leaving her to explore and look around. She went to the fireplace where, placed on the top, were dozens of pictures. Most were of Jack posed with his wife, who was a very pretty woman or by himself, where he seemed most content. There were some pictures of Bolton's mother. Yet, oddly, enough, there were only two of Troy out of the two dozen. One was of him at the age of two or three looking right into the camera as the picture was taken, reaching for it. Another was of him at the age of eight or nine, basketball in one hand and a trophy in the other that read first place.
What was strange about the picture was it was the only picture both he and his dad were in, but it looked completely wrong. There was a smile on Jack's face, but was barely there and appeared force while pup didn't even bother. The tension definitely was there between them, ready to erupt.
Gabriella's eyes then went around the room, taking in the expensive furniture and décor, but couldn't help feeling weird being there. It wasn't just the fact she obviously doesn't belong here, because it was clear she didn't, but the feel of the room was off. It felt hollow, practically empty and cool like everything here was temporary.
"You came?" If it wasn't for the fact she felt his body heat near hers, she would possibly jumped if she heard his voice. She turned around, meeting Pup's unbelievable blue eyes that watched her.
"I said I would, didn't I?" she shrugged.
"Right," he nodded, clearing his throat. After an awkward moment passed, he said "Come on. Let me show you upstairs, where we have the dance studio and the gym."
Gabriella arched her brow, but followed him nevertheless. Instead of taking the stairs, they used an elevator, an actual glass elevator, to the top floor. On the way up, Troy explained each floor was broken up into six floors. The first floor, where they just were, was the living room, kitchen, and entertainment room. The second floor was the staff's quarters, implying there were more people than Gregory keeping the house spotless. The third floor belonged to his parents that had their bedroom, separate bedrooms, bathrooms, studies and libraries. The fifth floor was his that featured his room, his bathroom and library. And the sixth floor was where the gym, the dance studio, the Jacuzzi, other and more elaborate entertainment room.
She noticed he kept quiet when they passed the fifth floor, but didn't say anything about it. She knew firsthand what it's like not to talk about anything you're not ready to share.
When they reached the sixth floor, they entered the first door on the left. Inside was the dance studio that was bigger than any dance room Gabriella has ever been in. Twenty times the size of an ordinary studio, there was a ceiling air conditioner blowing cool air from above, a huge and expensive surround-sound stereo system with huge amps for speakers, the floors waxed and polished, and an actual bar with snacks and ice-cold drinks from Powerade to mineral water.
Next door, separated by a thin glass wall Pup said was indestructible, was the gym she imagined and more. It was just like the dance studio, twenty times the size of an normal one, with a full bar of snacks and drinks, a ceiling air conditioner that was still on even though no one was there, and every exercise equipment imaginable.
Guess rich people really can have it all, she thought, taking slow steps into the dance studio, setting her bag down.
"Is this space okay?" She looked at Bolton, who watched her even though he was trying not to make it obvious.
The studio was amazing. She knew it, and suspected he knew it, too. A question like that sounded almost mockingly, as if the person was trying to rub their wealth into people's faces. Gabriella looked at his face, but saw being snobby wasn't on his agenda. He was just being curious.
She shrugged and told him it would have to do. She then went over to the barre, lifted one leg over it, and began stretching. Once the familiar burn was running through her body, she warmed her body up with some ballet exercises. She started out with ten demi plies and then switched to grand plies. Once that was done, she switched to ten eleve before practicing the tendu.
While her left leg was slowly stretched out and sliding to the side, she stuck a peek at Bolton. He was watching her intently as if he was taking a picture of her. "You should stretch out, too," she told him. "You wouldn't want to pull a muscle."
"Oh," He blushed once he realized he was caught. "Okay."
Troy walked over to the barre, but didn't try to intimate her moves. He knew he would only look stupid and ridiculous. So he stuck with basic stretches.
"So," he said after a few minutes of silence. "You were in a dance company?"
Gabriella arched her eyebrow, but focused on her ballet tendu. She slowly stretched her leg out with her arm rose over her arm, bending backwards. "I was…and still am."
The answer surprised Troy, but he knew she wasn't going to say anything about it.
Once they were warmed up, Gabriella went over to the Mac computer-yes, an actual computer in a gym-and went to YouTube, showing Troy the best tango numbers from movies. El tango de Roxanne from Moulin Rouge, Mary and Joey from Another Cinderella Story, Pierre Dulaine and his pretty blonde partner from Take the Lead, and even Dorinda and Joaquin from the Cheetah Girls sequel for them to use as a practice run. After that, she showed him a video titled, Tango-Roxanne, where best tango dances followed the rhythm to the instrumental version of El Tango de Roxanne.
Troy studied every clip with intense concentration, the same he used for every school assignment and his photos. How intimate the gestures were between the partners, how the steps changed from slow to quick and back again, how nicely the man lead and woman followed in suit.
He knew there was no way he could compete with that.
At the end of the video, Gabriella switched off the computer and turned back to Troy. "If there is one very important, very critical ingredient in tango, it would have to be the passion. There always has to be passion in the tango. It's what sets it off. You need to let your body follow the rhythm of the music, but, at the same time, have heavy tension between you and your partner. You basically need to pass off the impression you two are ready to rip each other's clothes and fuck senselessly."
Troy could do or say nothing, except be shocked by her chose of words. Profanity was the least of her worries. He wondered if he was always this…forward.
Gabriella's eyes smirked at him, saying so I don't hold back? Bite me. Continuing she said "Tango is supposed to be both passionate and tense-filled. As if both are caught in between the choices of making love to each other or kill before they get killed themselves. That intense passion has to be there between Carmen and Don Jose when they met for the last time. All the love, anger, desire, betrayal building up in that one dance. You and I have to create that moment in the tango."
"But do you think I can do it?" he interrupted, feeling more and more unsure as she went on. Tango meant passion, passion meant experience, which he sorely lacked. The closest thing he has to experience was in eighth grade and he and Heather Homes had a very awkward seven minutes in heaven during a party happening at her house. It was a complete disaster. His mouth was practically glued shut while Heather's was wide open, her tongue wet and pushy, licking his face like a very eager, hunger puppy.
Call him crazy, but that sounded like a far cry from intense ripping-clothes-and-fucking passion Gabriella was talking about.
She rolled her eyes, but not in an exhausted, bored to tears way. More like an exhausted, how many times will they have to go through it until he's convinced otherwise? "Pup. You managed to not only completely get into the waltz, but master it in less than two months. Believe it or not, it actually takes a long time to master."
"But this is tango." As brutal as the waltz was in the beginning, he got the hang of it. By watching the best waltzes from Dancing with the Stars over and over again. Cutting back some time from his photos to practice with an imaginary partner. Practicing with Sharpay and Ryan-once he swore them to secrecy never to mention the dancing lessons to anyone-and even dance with their old dance teacher, Miss Borne, who was a short and plump version of Len Goodman. If that wasn't enough. Gabriella added an extra hour to their rehearsals to work on more advance techniques like spinning, twirling, and lifting.
"And I'm a Sagittarius," she said flatly. "You don't hear me complaining about it."
Troy was about to protest, but closed is mouth, realizing it was a done deal and he was wasting his breath. Montez was stubborn, no mistake about that.
"Now," While her facial expression gave away nothing to the argument she won, her smirking eyes said it all. 'We have two months before the project's due. That should be more than enough time to come up with the costumes, the paper, music, and, of course, the routine."
They passed their outline two days before the due date and got back good feedback. Mr. Cummings gave them an A- on it, saying it was good and off to a good start, but was missing something. The criticism motivated Troy to find out more about the play and the characters. It also motivated them Gabriella to come up with a sizzling tango that wouldn't only amaze the class, but stun them into silence.
"Why stun them?" Troy asked after they were given back the outline. They were in the library, at the computers doing some research before the teacher came over to give them their outline.
Gabriella took the paper from him, read it once, and pushed it back to him. Crossing her arms against her chest and leaning back into her chair, she closed her eyes and took in a breath. "When I mean stun them, I mean make the performance breathtaking. There's no better feeling than doing a performance that left them speechless. Makes them digest what they just saw. Take it all in. There's no better feeling than that."
He noticed she went silent as she said the last sentence, a strange look appearing in her eyes. He had a good feeling she was speaking from personal experience.
Gabriella placed one hand on Troy's shoulder, had one of his arms around her waist, and clasped their free hands together, getting them into starter's position. The spark that always came alive whenever they touched went off like lightening, quick but powerful. Troy swallowed hard and reminded himself to think only about the moves and nothing else.
She led them through an easy move: three sharp steps forward, then dip. It was easy to accomplish without a complete screw-up since she was the one leading. When his turn came though, things didn't go quite as smoothly.
He tried leading Gabriella and listening her suggestions on how to be better at the same time, but he couldn't concentrate. Instead of having complete attention on her words, his mind couldn't get over anything else but the feelings going through him. The touch of her soft skin that he never wanted to let go of, her petite and curvy figure that made him hard.
Because of this lack of concentration, Troy spun around on his heel instead of going forward and accidentally dropped Gabriella. Flat on her back. Hard.
"Oh shit." His eyes widened in shock.
Her eyes were shut tightly and her mouth was drawn in a thin, tight line, holding in the screams and curses ready to fly out of her mouth. She took her time breathing in and out, waiting until her entangled and boiled emotions were reduced down to a minimum. She opened her eyes and almost regretted it a second later.
His eyes watched her intently, scared and concerned but oh, so innocent. Eyes that were the brightest yet deepest shade of blue, she didn't know what to name them. Eyes that were so deep and intense when they looked at her, sometimes shocked and bewildered, but always curious like he was trying to see the real her. Eyes that did something to her everytime she looked into them she didn't want to think or explain. The strange something was more so like a feeling, like a flutter in the pit of her stomach. A tingle.
Stop it, Gabriella, she told herself.
She shook her head, snapping out of it, and got herself off the floor, ignoring the hand Pup offered to help her up. She got them into beginning position: one of her hands laid on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapped around her waist, and their free hands holding onto each other.
"Pup, I actually said nice things about you. Don't make me regret saying them," Gabriella warned, pressing their bodies closer together. Even more so than the respectively space she told him about when doing the waltz. "You're Done Jose. You follow orders and commands without any hesitation. Strive for success and perfection. I'm Carmen. A dangerous temptation you can't shake off. Convince you to shake things up and bend the rules. As long as you're with me."
Taking one step forward him, her breasts pressed against his chest, Gabriella lifted his chin up with her finger and forced him to meet her eyes. Those beautiful, dangerous, alluring eyes. She bit her bottom lip, batted her long-lashed eyes once, and a seductive smirk spread across her face. So many girls have done that move with him thousands of times in hopes of seducing him, only to get in return annoyance and disinterest. But watching her go from teacher to temptress, doing that move, Troy knew from the thundering in his heart and the desire urges shaking him he was a goner. She placed both hands on his shoulders, leaned in close, and whispered in a fluent Spanish accent that instantly turned him on "So what's it gonna be, solider? Would you rather be a chicken and follow? Or man up and take charge?"
She took her temptress act one step further by lowering her hands from his shoulders to his chest, purposely rubbing them against his nipples, which caused a tortured and choked groan to be swallowed in his mouth. While her hand stayed caressing his check, her index finger to he freed hand was pressed against his chest and drew a line down, leaving a burning trail in it's' wake that seared him.
If this was how Carmen made Don Jose feel, crazed with yearning and twisted in lust, then Troy understood why the obedient man went to the dark side.
Gabriella pulled back a bit to look at him, then clucked her tongue, and pulled away completely until there was a foot of space between him, leaving him cold and wanting to feel her warmth. Her dark eyes shone in danger and seduction. "I suppose you are a follower, pup."
She shrugged one shoulder, glanced over at him once, and flipped him off. Suddenly, before she could go over to her bag, a hand urgently grabbed hold of her forearm and pulled her back. Right back into Troy's chest. Dazed and caught off guard, she looked up at him and he met her gazed head-on.
Call it craziness, impulsion, his wild and lustful thoughts, Troy didn't know. All he knew was his mind and his thoughts of her and being with her wouldn't leave him alone. And it didn't help she had to unravel him even more. Or...maybe he did. It awakened something in him, something he somehow knew she set in him the moment he looked into those bewitching eyes, and caused it to go off. He channeled that awakening and feeling into the tango, his body intimating even step and move from the videos Gabriella showed him, and went with it.
Dipping her down low, one arm securely around her waist, Troy ran his hand through her raven hair, feeling the smooth softness that was sleek than silk, and undid the ponytail. He tossed the band aside carelessly and paid attention to the girl in his arms, looking deeply into her eyes like he was trying to unlock all her secrets.
Too bad she wasn't going to make it easy.
When Troy slowly brought her up, Gabriella grinded her ass against his cock with slow, swaying movements, smirking to the long and tormented groans he was trying to silence. Still grinding against him and keeping eye contact with him, she extended her arms over their heads, brought them down slowly, and grabbed him hands to place them on her hands. She kept one hand on his cheek while the other stayed on his right hand that held her hip. Together, they two swayed in a slow, small circle that could have gone on forever, their eyes never breaking contact and doing things to each other they would never admit out loud and could only dream about.
Gabriella then quickly freed herself from Troy to run over to her bag, pull out her iPod, and set it into the speakers. After she selected an instrumental tango song, she turned back to Troy, who watched her every move with such intensity she couldn't help smirking. Wondering how far they could go before he would crack.
She leaped and spun her way back into his arms, causing him to spin them around. Her smirk widened as she brushed her mouth against his cheek, teasing him before he set her down to her feet. With their arms wrapped around each other and hands clasped, Troy led them through the tango music with three sharp steps and a dip. They practiced continuously, dancing around the room with the song on repeat, getting better and better with each step. During the time they danced, Gabriella became bolder in her movements, breaking away from Troy but still holding onto his hand to twirl around before she was brought back to his arms, bending down low, brushing her mouth against his skin.
Troy was also starting to become more confident in himself. Confident and also more daring as well, caressing Gabriella's sides when he dipped her, leaning in close so there was little space between their faces, and even added some twirls and lifts before they started the steps again.
Twirling her once more and inhaling her intoxicating scent, urges and desires building up inside him; he dipped her low and brought down on one knee, balancing her. Troy was no longer Troy, but a heart-broken, angry-blazing, love-sick Don Jose wanting to shake Carmen hard until she was finally convinced they belonged to each other.
"Carmen," He brushed loose strands of her hair away from her lovely face, and then caressed her cheek with utmost care. He looked at his free-spirited gypsy, her dark eyes burning his with their scorning blaze of seduction and deceit. "Damn you!"
With the imaginary dagger he pulled out, he stabbed her in the heart. Her eyes widened in shock and pain, the light of life slowly dying out as she breathed in and out in shallow, choked breaths. Her hands fell to her sides, her body became limp in his arms and, with a gasp and limply tilted of her head, she died.
Troy stared at her, bewildered but numb. What was he suppose to feel after what he done? Joy? Satisfaction? Sadness? Despair? He didn't know. All he could do was brush back loose strands of her raven hair, drop a kiss on her forehead and two on her cheeks, and look up, hoping he would get an answer.
For a full minute, the two were still as they let what had just happen sink in. Troy was unable to believe he actually did it. He actually danced the tango. Not only that, but he kissed Gabriella-on her cheeks at least, but still. Her skin was so soft and sweet and addicting, scented with vanilla and cinnamon, and he wished he could have more. Taste more and explore. Gabriella, silent in his arms with her eyes shut, replayed what happened in her mind.
To say she was surprise wouldn't be right. 'Shock' didn't seem enough to cover it. To make it simple, she would say she was blown away, which was a very rare reaction from her. Almost as rare as a sincere smile. All she could say she was blown away, which said much because she wasn't one who could easily be impressed. But Pup did it. He actually managed to do it. He was able to find his inner Don Jose hidden in him, channel all the intense emotions in himself, and dance.
She knew he had some rhythm in his hips, but she never expected for to go out like that.
When Gabriella opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was how close his face was to hers. His eyes a shade of blue too bright and deep to be named watching her intently with the same intense look she noticed the first time they met.
The first met she met Pup, she knew right out of the bat, besides his popularity and shyness, he was cute. In a pretty-boy, squeaky-clean, polished sort of way. The last person she ever would have considered her ideal for a guy. Now, while he still wasn't the person she'd go for, she could see he was cuter than before. More than cute in fact. Pretty good-looking with an appealing Zac Efron-like face, shaggy chestnut hair, and his incredibly blue eyes.
Her hand slowly moved up to his cheek, to protect and hold him like a puppy. Then her mind quickly (and thankfully) switched back on, preventing her from making a move that could be fatal.
"You can let go of me, pup." she said. Troy blinked his eyes once, slowly, and she could see she wasn't the only one coming out of a spell.
After she was released and freed, Gabriella walked over to the bar, sat down on the stool, and helped herself to an ice-cold fruit punch Powerade. She drank more than half bottle in three gulps and used her hand as a napkin to wipe her lips.
"Not bad, pup," she said, taking another gulp of her juice. "Not bad at all."
"Yeah?" he asked, uncertain.
"Yeah," she confirmed with a nod. "There are some things we need to work out, but other than that, I'd say that A+ is in the bag. You were really that good."
When she gave him a small, genuine smile, he smiled back at her slowly. She couldn't help but notice it was a might better look for him than the intense look he usually had on his face or the unreadable mask he wore at school. It made her feel satisfied in a way that she was the one who put that smile there, even if it was tentative and small. It also made something weird and fuzzy come over her, going off in her stomach. Weird like a warm, tingly feeling.
Gabriella shook her head and looked down at the Powerade in her hand. Did someone slip tequila in this or something?
"Anyway," she went on before the silence continued and became weird. "What you did back there, the last move when you stabbed me in the heart was perfect. It was just what I was looking for."
"What were you looking for?" He joined on by the stools, grabbing himself a Monster.
"How to fit the ending of Carmen into the tango. Don Jose kills Carmen. Traditional, the way the play has it and the way it's been interpreted, he stabbed her in the stomach. But what you did back there, holding my cheek and saying my name before you cursed me and stabbed me in the stomach was even better. We are so doing it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she smiled. "It's perfect. Now all I need to do is figure out the rest."
"That's cool," he replied. "I know how we can get great music. My friend Kelsi is a great composer and a great DJ. Her music was used in a bunch of plays and musicals. She'll come up with the best music for the tango."
"Coolness." Clanking their bottles together, they toasted to their successful plan and drank to their perfect grade.
Gabriella quickly ran through her head all the things they needed to get done before Valentine's Day. Music? Check. Tango routine? Having the ending figured out, but still needed to work on the beginning and middle. So they were halfway done with that. Final paper? With the all the researching they've been doing together and individually, writing it would be a pie of cake. So somewhat getting there. Costumes? Halfway done. Which reminded her…
Glancing down at his bottom half, Gabriella looked up at Troy and asked him "How big is it?"
The very second the question rolled off her tongue, Pup's eyes widened in shock, his cheeked reddened with two big patches of crimson, and managed to spit out half of the juice he drank and choke on the gulp he took in.
Like a rocket, he shot up from his stool and jumped back a few feet from her. As if she had some contagious disease he didn't want to be anywhere near. He was still choking as he asked "Wh-wh-what?"
What the hell? Gabriella raised an eyebrow at him. "Pup, as entertaining as that was I'm not getting any younger here. I need to know how big it is. So tell me already."
If she thought his face was red before, it was the shade of bright crimson now. His eyes were so wide; they nearly bulged out of its' sockets like some kind of cartoon character. She was surprise they didn't fall out.
"Do you always ask people these kinds of questions?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his crotch, shielding it from sight. "It's kind of private, in case you haven't noticed."
Okay, this freaking out act was amusing in the beginning. Now it was plain annoying. Rolling her eyes, Gabriella told him "There's nothing personal or privacy-invading about it. I've asked tons of people this question before. Rob, some classmates from my old school, some dancers from my dance company. Even my brother, who gladly told me his size.
Pup's jaw dropped. It practically hit the ground with a bang. "Oh my...Jesus. Do you not have a filter?"
Oh brother. Gabriella rolled her eyes, irritated. At this rate, they wouldn't be leaving until New Year's. "Can you please get over yourself and tell me what your size is?"
"I'm not hearing this!" Troy covered his ears with his hands, humming loudly. "I'm not hearing this! I'm not hearing this!"
Must resist urge to punch. Must resist very strong urge to punch, she told herself, at the very thin end of her patience. Although, in her defense, if he kept going, it was very likely he was going to end up with a black eye. "Bolton, if you do not quit it, I'll punch the living daylights out of you. Quit being so damn immature."
"I'm immature!" He repeated, incredulous. He dropped his hands to his sides and pointed at her. "You're the immature one, Montez. Asking me about my damn size."
Gabriella stared at him in shock, mouth agape. He was fucking with her. He was absolutely fucking with her. "You have got to be shitting me," She looked away to have herself a good, dry laugh before she turned back to Troy. "You're the one prancing around the room like you were about to have a twelve-inch needle shove your ass and I'm the immature one." She turned away briefly for a moment to laugh again. "You know what? Bite me. And get over whatever bullshit you're dealing with because I really don't have time to waste. So quit acting like a prick and tell me how big-"
It suddenly hit her.
Gabriella stilled as realization came upon her, her eyes widening in shock as her mouth dropped. Her eyes fell down at Pup's bottom half, at the precious crotch he was trying to protect.
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
"You thought I...actually believed...I was meaning your dick?"
"What else could you possibly mean when you said 'how big it is?'?" Troy shot back.
She stared at him, long and hard, feeling something building up inside her. It was great, massive. A force too strong for her body to hold it, least of all her mouth she kept sealed. She accidentally opened her mouth, and that was all it took for loud, uncontrollable laughter to erupt from her.
She laughed so hard, tears streamed down her face and her stomach was killing her. When the laughter was too much for her body to handle, she collapsed to the ground, falling flat on her back, one hand holding her stomach, tears pouring from her eyes, the laughter ongoing.
"It's not funny!" Troy roared, making her laugh harder.
"Yes, it is," she managed to choke out between her giggles. "Absolutely hysterical."
Quickly getting herself up, Gabriella rushed back to her drink, finishing up all the juice to calm herself down. She reminded herself to remain calm and not giggle or else she'd choked herself to death with her laughs.
"FYI, genius, I was talking about the size of your pants," Watching his face go from annoyed and pissed off to embarrassed in an instant was hysterical. She nearly lost again, but reminded herself to hold it in. The smirk growing on her lips, on the other hand, she freely let it happen. "My friend, Anita, is working on our costumes and needs to know your sizes in both pants and shirts."
Wow. Just wow. This had to be the second time in a row he made a complete ass out of himself because of her. Only this one definitely topped his reaction when he thought she fired a gun in school.
"Oh," was all he could say while wishing the ground underneath him would swallow him whole. Or for time to quickly speed along so they could move forward from this awkward moment.
Well, at least, he wished it could be that way because he was the one suffering from the embarrassing moment. Gabriella, on the other hand, only wished she had a camera so she could record this moment for future generations.
"But you know what, pup. I am curious." He did not like the evil gleam that went off in her eye. Or how her eyes once again looked down at bottom, eyeing his penis despite his best efforts to hide it. She eyed it without shame, and didn't even fluster for a second. "How big is your little fri-?"
"Let's go to my room."
She followed behind, grabbing her bag and following him out the door. Behind him, he heard her laughing, which could only be about him.
Seeing some of Troy's house and the rooms, Gabriella already had a good idea what his room was like. Insanely huge, filled with everything a kid could want and more. Which was why she taken the first step in, she wasn't taken back.
Done in white and blue, spotless, and, unsurprisingly, twenty times the size of a master bedroom, it looked like an advertisement of the perfect room. There were a lot of windows, about five or six, all huge, showing the gray weather outside that looked like it would either rain or snow any minute. In the center of the room, surrounded by cashmere royal blue carpets, black leather furniture set and a gray and black marble-glass coffee table. On the table was an Apple laptop closed shut next to loads of textbooks, binders, notes, and everything else needed to study. Backed against the wall, neatly made in blue Egyptian cotton sheets, was the biggest king-size bed she ever seen.
On the left side of the wall were ribbons and certificates praising the good work Bolton has put into for various things. First place in every science fair since elementary school. Blue Student of the Year ribbons going all the way back to sixth grade. MVP of the year from freshmen year to now. Perfect attendance, East High's promo boy, and so on.
On the right side were shelves and shelves of pictures. On the bottom shelve was an impressive row of expensive cameras, each one costing more than two thousands dollars.
And that was only the first floor. The top floor was divided into two sections and had a wide, spiral staircase near the balcony doors leading up. On the left was the entertainment room that was more like a movie theater with a huge stereo system, a huge computer with a screen that was wide as a wide-screen TV, and even had a popcorn machine and concession stand. On the right side was the library she could see was like a miniature version of the central library back home, filled with endless rows and shelves of books.
His room was impressive, very impressive. The kind of room any kid would want to have. But it wasn't the top floor entertainment room that impressed her. Nor was it the huge balcony that had the most amazing view of the entire estate. It was the collection of cameras that captured her attention. There had to be about fifty or sixty, all from the film era where digital didn't exist.
She snuck a peek at Pup, and then returned back to the cameras. She never would have pegged him as a photographer. She wondered if he really did take pictures, if they were just a collection, or if they were there for display.
While his room was impressive, it really wasn't what she expected from a teenager boy's room. Being in plenty of rooms, counting Javier's side from their old room, she expected Playboy or Sport Illustration pinups, clothes everywhere, posters of rock stars or athletes, a pile of dirty magazines sticking out from under the bed. Other than the poster of Michael Jordan suspended in the air, basketball in hand and ready to take a dunk, there was nothing else in the room that indicated a teenage boy lived here.
Like the other rooms, there was a hollowness lingering in the air. Seemed like such a shame a perfect room like this could feel so empty.
"So. This is my room." Troy gestured his hand around.
"Not bad." She shrugged.
Troy frowned as he looked around the place for something and couldn't find it. "I thought I left my pajamas on the bed this morning. I guess Doris must have taken it to the laundry already."
Gabriella stared at him, an eyebrow slightly arched in disbelief. He actually needed to look at his pajamas to know what his own size was. Unbelievable. While it was common knowledge, eight-five percent of the male population could care less about clothes; they at least know what fit them. How the hell could he not know his?
"My mom mostly handles our clothes," He glanced over his shoulder to look at her. "But since she travels most of the time, the shopping usually falls into the hands of some maids who are more like my mom's squad of personal shoppers. They either order my clothes through catalogues or online stores. Or go shopping at the mall."
His own team of personal shoppers? Why didn't that surprise her?
"Let's go to my closet."
See, for any person, their closet was either a small space or a box in their room. Pup's closet was a room that was almost twice the size of his room. The floors were covered in soft-looking, pure white carpets. It was done like a store. Shelves of racked clothes at every corner and space, mirrors sandwiched between the shelves, and the shelves were arranged into three categories: the top was shirts, the second row was pants from dressy pants to jeans to shorts, and the last row was shoes featuring more than sixty pairs of Jordans and Chucks.
Everything was so spotless and perfectly organized, she immediately spotted something that stuck out from the rest of the crowd: a gray East High Wildcat hoodie that definitely had seen its' better days. She could tell from its ratty appearance and some stains she didn't want to know, it was worn a lot and probably a personal favorite. She could understand that, but it still didn't make much sense. Pup's whole world was completely organized and perfect. Favorite or not, with a shirt that was dirty and messed out, she wondered why he at least didn't want to wash it.
While she stared at the gray hoodie, trying to put pieces together, Troy went over to one of the racks and looked at the long sleeves of one of his shirts. "Size medium 38/40 for shirt."
He checked one his formal pants, a pair of light-tan slacks, for his pant's size. "Size 30 for pants."
Not hearing a response, Troy looked over at Gabriella, who still was trying to figure out the gray hoodie. "You okay?"
Her eyes went back to him, and she gave him a curt nod. "I'm fine." She smirked, looking more like her old self, and winked. "Don't worry about me, Pup. You focus all your attention to your crotch."
Back at the room, it was clear someone else came in while they were in his closet room. Without a doubt it had to be a maid, by the looks of the refreshments she left on the coffee table, which she cleaned up and cleared out. The snacks consisted of two bottles of Coke with an extra 2-liter bottle in case they finish their drinks and are still thirsty, a bowl of buttery popcorn, and a plate of out-of-the-oven brownies.
Her stomach growled at the sight, and she was more than happy to follow its hungry command. Gabriella picked one brownie up, eyeing the moist texture, and turned back to Troy as a question came up in her head. "Mind if I eat?"
"Its fine," He picked up one of the plastic plate conveniently left by the maid, and handed it to her. "As long as you use this."
Gabriella rolled her eyes, but still, she let him have his way. She was hungry after all. One bit into the brownie and she was gone. Sweet Jesus...soft and moist, gooey and warm chocolate center. It was fucking incredible.
Pup looked amused by her reaction, even though he was going through the same melting experience with his first bite. He moaned in pleasure, letting a small smile appear on his face. "Good, right?"
"The best," she degreed. Gabriella finished her first one under twelve seconds and moved onto another. She also moaned in pleasure, taking the first bite once again. "Do you have any frosting?"
Pup arched his eyebrow questioningly, but still used at a buzzer to alert the servants of their frosting need.
Barely a minute passed before a maid, dark-haired and plump, came into the room, carrying a tray of not one, but three different types of frosting with butter knives and another plate of brownies.
"Here you are sir." she said in a soft German accent, placing them on the table and slightly bowing in Troy's direction.
"Thank you, Doris." The supposed 'Sir' said and nodded to her.
Returning his nod, her gray eyes glanced over at Gabriella. At first they appeared shock, as if seeing a girl in his room was never done before, then shock changed to curiosity and some sort of approval.
"Ah, sir," Smiling warmly at Gabriella, Doris spoke to Troy in her native tongue. "Ist sie deine neue Freundin? Sie ist sehr hübsch, Sir. Sehr schön in der Tat."
Doris winked. Pup blushed and nearly choked again, for the second time in a row. Gabriella could only wonder what she said as she watched her bow again and leave the room.
Silence passed between them, going from not so bad to awkward quickly. Gabriella, being unable to stand such a thing for too long, decided to break it by telling Troy "You gonna tell me what she just said or do I have to start to guessing. I have to warn you, though; my guesses will be some pretty racy shit."
Pup swallowed, looked at her, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away. He quietly cursed at Doris. "She asked if you were my girlfriend. My new girlfriend, actually."
Him saying this made him blush bright red. He rolled the heels of his shoes and rubbed his neck again, as if easing tense muscles would make this moment move forward to a much comfortable, less awkward one.
"Huh." Gabriella made herself in the lazy boy chair, finishing another brownie. Eating another one, she glanced at Troy, whose back was to her, still standing and embarrassed.
She couldn't help but wonder how many girlfriends he had. It might a bit streotype-ish prejudice, but it was basic knowledge most jocks were experienced. Captains, of course, were no expectations to that knowledge. Yet, as odd as it was, Pup seemed to scatter that knowledge. Given the fact he was always focused in all his classes, and told her himself there was no dating for him because he was focusing on school and basketball, she wondered if he even kissed a girl.
She thought back to his freak-out in the dance studio, and nodded to herself. Now, she got the meaning behind it. He was a much bigger innocent pup than she realized.
Spreading vanilla frosting across the bottom of one brownie and chocolate frosting on another, she brought the two together to make a brownie sandwich and squeezed hard. She smiled at the oozy sides and corners of mixed frosting, knowing this would satisfy her sweet tooth. Taking a huge bite of it, she was not disappointed.
"You know," She opened her eyes, glancing over at Pup. "For someone who was told she was mistaken for a guy's girlfriend, you look like you couldn't care less."
Gabriella wiggled her finger at him, telling him to give her a minute. Once the brownie sandwich was eaten and down her throat, she said to him with a half shrug "You pretty much sum it up already."
Troy snorted and shook his head. She then remembered there was more German maid said.
"What else did she say?" Maybe it didn't mean anything, but what could she say? She was curious.
Troy rubbed the back of his neck again, a habitat she guessed he did whenever he was put on the spot. He told her it was nothing important, hardly worth her worrying. He may have hoped that would turn off her curiosity, but actually set it off. Gabriella got up from the comfy chair and stood in front of him, crossing her arms and looking him straight in the eye. They stared at one another hard, then Pup turned his head away with a silent grumble, admitting defeat.
"She said you're very pretty. Very pretty indeed." he finally said with another embarrassed blush and neck rub to go with it.
Gabriella arched her eyebrow at him. Well, the compliment was a bit unexpected, it wasn't that all surprising. What was surprising, though, was Pup looking so embarrassed about it. "You don't agree?"
He mumbled something like "Not really," his head still turned away from her, before he slowly turned back to look at her. His eyes studied her the same way Gregory and Doris did, examining her from head to toe, then back up again. "Don't get wrong me. You're attractive and all, but..."
She nodded slightly for him to continue.
"Pretty really isn't the word I used to describe you," Another nervous swallow as he eyed her again, his eyes stopping at her chest, which he stared at for a good five seconds, before scolding himself and continuing to study. He went back to her, which he stared into the longest overall. "I'd say exotic. It suits you better. Unbelievably stunning. Drop-dead gorgeous. Beautiful."
Wow. Just...wow. Gabriella took a slow, careful step back and cast her eyes to the ground, studying the designs of the carpet. He said exotic, thinking it was a much better word for her. And that wasn't all. He called her gorgeous. Stunning. Beautiful. She received a lot of comments and compliments about her looks for as long as she could remember. His should be no different. But somehow it was. The way he looked at her, directly into her eyes instead of at her mouth or her chest, complete sincere and innocence in those eyes of his, she knew he wasn't suggesting nothing more like wanting to do her or make-out. He was simply getting her his observations, telling her what he thought about her, but she could tell somehow it meant more in a completely different way than what she was used to. It baffled her.
Gabriella shook her head, and licked her lips hungrily. Man, she couldn't remember another time she wanted a cigarette so badly other than now. She needed a hit of nicotine to calm her down. There was pack in her gym bag, but she knew Pup would never let her smoke in his room. Wouldn't want to ruin the freshness of the air, now, would we?
To distract herself, she walked over to the right side, over at the photos and camera collection. It was, to her, the most interesting part of the room since it told something about Pup.
Predictably, there were some photos of his friends. His parents appeared in about five pictures, his mom in four of them and only one photo of his dad. And about hundreds of pictures of strangers and other places.
A common theme she was picked up from the photos: all natural. Simple moments that really looked incredible. Like his friend, disco-afro, in the mist of a back-flip, a huge grin on his face. Sparkle Barbie dressed in a white sequin-covered dress that stood out from the pitch black background, knees slightly bend, eyes closed, microphone close to mouth, losing herself in her song. A sweet-looking elderly couple at the beach, standing in front of the ocean, eyes closed and their mouths only a breath away from kissing. The sunset behind them gave such a wonderful background, the sun shining a golden glow around them.
"These are really good." Gabriella murmured. Really, really good.
"Thanks." Pup smiled sheepishly.
"Did you take them?" she turned to him.
"Yeah," Another sheepish smile with a blush. "But they're nothing really special. I mean I'm not that good."
Gabriella rolled her eyes at the comment. Only two kinds of people said that: the coy and the modest. The coy said things to look modest when really they weren't. The modest were the ones who were talented but shy of their abilities. Pup was no coy, so she went with the latter. "Pup, like I said before, I don't give compliments out easily. So I highly suggest you grow some balls and believe what I said."
He stared at her, wide-eyed. Once the shock faded, she saw a small smile on the curl of his mouth. "Thanks."
She nodded, and the two went back to looking at the pictures.
"By the way," His eyes glanced over at her. "In case I haven't said it before, you're seriously an amazing dancer. Phenomenal."
There it was again. Like an evil devil, the tingly feeling coiled in her stomach, setting off unexpected warmth that came over her. She blinked twice, to clear her head, and kept her gaze straight ahead.
"Thanks."
He nodded and kept quiet.
Gabriella looked back at the picture of his dad, only out of the hundreds, standing out from the rest. She wasn't sure if it was pup's first time with the camera or not, but the photo came out a bit blurry. His dad looked so bored, as if he couldn't wait for the picture to be taken and done with. Studying it closer, she saw a little blue-eyed, dark-haired boy in front of him holding the camera that captured the shot.
She grabbed the brown frame and brought it closer to her. Pup looked so much happier and calmer in this picture than the one downstairs, more like a kid. In the middle of father and son was a tall, cute guy who looked so much like Pup, it was like they were twins. He had one arm wrapped around Pup's neck and a hand placed on his dad's shoulder, smiling down at his little brother with so much love in his warm eyes.
The look in his eyes reminded her of Javier's gaze when he looked at her. When she was younger and there was nothing between them.
"Michael Bolton." It wasn't even a question, just a statement. After all, given the obvious family resemblance, who else could it be?
"Yeah," he nodded. "That's Mike."
His brother was really good-looking, so happy and at ease with that easy smile. She could see why he'd be considered the golden child. But it was odd seeing the picture because it was the first picture she ever seen of the elder Bolton in the whole house. She wondered what the grieving parents did with the pictures, along with the rest of the stuff. If they burned them to be rid of the memory or placed all his stuff into boxes that were hidden away, never to be seen or open again.
"He looks like you." she commented.
He nodded again, wincing slightly, but kept his attention on his brother. "People say that a lot."
His tone said it all. He didn't see that as a compliment. Then again, why would it be? Not wanting to be reminded of someone you didn't want to think about but still seeing them every time you saw your reflection. It was unbearable, sick. Like a cruel, taunting reminder. It was a feeling Gabriella knew all too well.
"When was it taken?" she asked.
"When I was eleven. A week before my birthday," he explained. "A week before he died."
She flinched slightly at the sudden unexpected, but held herself together so nothing was given away. She had to admit it though. She really didn't see that coming.
Maybe she should have said "I'm sorry," and accept his "its okay," response. Maybe she should have, but she didn't. It wasn't okay. She decided to just nod.
Pup swallowed a huge lump down his throat, his eyes hazed in mist. He didn't lost control though, keeping himself steady as a rock. "Car crash. These two drunken idiots decided it would be fun to race in the middle of the night. One of them crashed directly into us, and the other at the left side, knocking all of us into a huge tree, down a hill. The bastards made it out okay with a few bruises. I was pretty banged up. I was knocked pretty hard in the head. I had a serious concussion and nearly fell into a coma. Mike was killed on impact."
Gabriella didn't say anything. Not that she needed to anyway. Pup was moving on with his story. "According to the doctors, it was quick. Painless. He died well, they said. But there's no such fucking thing as dying well. Saying he died quick didn't make it any less okay," His breathing became shaky as the words spilled out. He took in a deep breath, but the feelings he was trying to keep at bay refused to be tame. "My mom traveled all over the world since the accident. 'Promoting business' as she called it. She missed the funeral,"
Gabriella had a feeling it was more like a deliberate move. A very deliberate, cold move.
"My dad, for once, couldn't handle attention, so he made sure there was an empty row way in the back reversed for him and only him. I was left alone at the front row. I can't remember a single moment I felt so alone like I did at Mike's funeral. Although, in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't his fault, I was so angry with him. Unbelievably furious. Mike was the only person I could count on. He promised nothing would break us up, that he would always be there for me. The next thing I knew, out of the blue, he died. Gone. He left me, and for the longest time I hated him. He broke his promise, and I can't forgive him for that."
It hit Gabriella like buckets of cold water fell on her at once. Water so cold, it chilled her bones in a second and made her body numb.
His words played in her mind in loud, continuous echoes.
"….the only person I count on…"
"Promised nothing would break us up, that he would always be there for me…"
"He left me, and for the longest time I hated him."
"He broke his promise, and I can't forgive him for that."
Immediately Javier's face popped into her mind, along with a stream of memories.
Javi taking her away from the rampage known as Maria whenever she was in her drunk-crazed fits, tearing up the house and looking for a kid as a punching bag.
Javi pushing her away as their mother came upon them, then going down hard by the strong, hard force of her stinging slap or a liquid bottle threw at the back of his hard.
Javi reading her her favorite Disney books every night, using the dolls to act out the parts, his gentle voice making all the badness go away and luring her to sleep.
Javi soothing her with lullabies whenever reality would get into her dreams, turning them to nightmares, and promising her they would leave when the time was right.
Javi…
Don't! A lump nearly choked her, but she bit her bottom lip hard to will the feeling away. Bit it so hard, blood filled her mouth. She swallowed it down hard.
"Gabriella," she could hear Pup's concerned voice calling her name, but it sounded so far away. "You okay?"
She was able to breathe again, finally, once the feeling went away and the memories ceased. "Just thinking."
Gabriella looked at Pup, seeing his usual innocent eyes empty. Flat. She instantly hated that look.
She needed to do something.
She went to the coffee table, grabbed what she needed, and went back to Troy. "Pup?"
He turned around, and was soon knocked down by the chocolate frosting flung at his face. As he got himself together, he used his left hand to wipe off some frosting on his cheek, staring at it for a second or two before looking up at her, a spark coming to life in his dull eyes that thrilled her.
"Did you seriously just-"
He was cut off by another, bigger glob of frosting, smacked right at his forehead. "Will you stop-"
A third glob threw at his left cheek.
"Throwing frosting-"
A fourth threw at his right cheek.
"At my face!"
As a response, she stuck her hand into the jar and balled up the biggest ball of frosting, throwing it at his mouth. Pup's face was completely covered in chocolate frosting, good enough to eat. She smirked at her handy work. "You know, pup, chocolate goes so well with your complexion."
He pounced, arms outstretched and ready to grab her. Gabriella was fast, though, already speeding up the stairs. Suddenly, as she was close to the top, arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. She found herself being lifted and tossed over Pup's shoulder, feet kicking wildly as he walked them down and over to his bed.
"Pup, put me down!"
"As you wish!"
He tossed her onto the bed like she was some jacket. He then pounced on her again before she could catch her breath, smearing frosting off his face onto hers and tickling her. The two stayed on that bed for what felt like forever, smearing frosting onto each other's faces, tickling one another, and laughing their heads off.
Probably the most either one has done in the longest time.
"Happy now," He was trying to stay serious and mad at her, but seeing how the two of them looked, covered in chocolate with some feathers from the pillows stuck on them, it was hard not to laugh. "You got me dirty."
Gabriella smirked, licked her hand, and wiped it on his face, jumping on him. Now she was the one straddling him and tickling him like crazy.
"Okay, okay, okay," Pup cried out laughing. "I give, I give, I give!"
"Now who's the one in the control, Bolton?" She leaned in close to him, her breasts pressed against his chest, hands lightly brushing against his skin. He bit his lip hard, holding in a groan.
"Uh, uh..."
A loud sound of someone clearing his throat broke them apart, untangling themselves from each other and sitting on the opposite sides of the bed.
Pup's dad, the cock-sucker General himself, stood in the doorway. His face perfectly composed and calm, while his cold, anger-filled eyes gave him away.
"Dad," The expression on Pup's face reminded her of an innocent baby deer looking into the eyes of a huge lion ready to swallow it whole. "I thought...You weren't suppose to be back until eight."
Jack's eyes looked at his son, who swallowed hard, and over at Gabriella, who met his hard gaze with one of her own. His gaze may be unpleasant, but compared to what she dealt with back in the Brocks, he was a puppy dog. Turning back to his son, he said "Plans change. And I can only imagine what would have happened if I didn't come back."
The possibilities were practically screamed in the heavy silence.
Giving Gabriella the once-over, but speaking to Pup, cock sucker said "Troy, please escort your...person out of this house. Guests will be coming soon, and we wouldn't want questions about certain flitch now, would we?"
"Dad!" Troy exclaimed. That was so, completely uncalled for. And plain rude.
"I only speak the truth," the bastard actually had the nerve to smile pleasantly at her, like they were talking in secrets. "After all, I'm sure people of her kind have called much worse. Spics. Thieves. Liars. And that's only for the men. For the women, I believe it's mostly cheap prostitutes. Whores, if I'm going to be plain honest."
Before Pup, who was no longer resembling a deer but a pissed-off wolf with vengeance, could speak, Gabriella held up her hand in front of his mouth, silencing him. She could handle dear Pops.
Smirking herself, she said to him. "It's really funny, Mr. Bolton, you said that. You see there's only thing people of my kind consider the worst thing we could be called. Well, actually, it's more like a comparison to people like...you. You know. Stiff-necked, twenty to fifty feet sticks shoved up your asses, dull and lifeless, fake like reality TV. Not to mention tiny, little weenies for balls."
Both father and son's jaws dropped. She couldn't tell which one was more shocked.
Cock-sucker's face was bright red, the color of lava rising up in the volcano, seconds before it exploded. He yelled at Troy "Get her out of here!" He then left, with a heavy slam of the door.
Before Pup retrieved his fallen jaw, Gabriella was off the bed, grabbed her things, and out the door. He quickly caught up behind her, and walked to the door.
"Gabriella," He gently grabbed her hand, making her look back at him and his sincere, apologetic face. "I'm really-"
She took her hand back and used it to open the front door, stepping outside onto the front porch. "Don't worry about it, Pup. I've dealt with things much bigger and scarier than him."
Without another word or a look back, she got onto her bike and drove away. She could still feel his incredibly blue eyes watching her from the porch until she disappeared from sight.