ET Chapter 22: Sherlock Pup on the case
If someone had told him that his meeting with Gabriella wasn't going to go exactly as planned, he really wouldn't be surprised. He had the memory of stuffed crabs going down his throat to prove it.
If someone had told him that he got sucker-punched by her, then he really wouldn't be surprised. Somehow his mouth seemed fixated on saying stupid shit to Gabriella and get him hurt.
If someone had told him that he actually would kiss Gabriella-like real kissing on the lips-then…
Then…
He couldn't even finish his thought.
Truth be told the thought never occurred to Troy because it fell within the same concept as Kim Kardashian converting to nunnery, Ms. Darbus trading in her love for the theater for Sunday Football, or Jason winning a Noble Prize in Science.
Impossible. Far-fetched. Like no way in friggering hell, so let's not even go there.
Yet somehow it happened. It actually happened. And it took a hard punch to the right jaw for him to realize that he wasn't dreaming. That what he knew was the impossible was actually possible.
He looked out toward the school's backyard, at the large track field, where the track team was running laps, then glanced over at the football field, where the cheerleaders clad in sport bras and shorts were practicing yet another routine. His eyes were fixed on the activity going around yet he wasn't really seeing them. His mind was too far away to focus on them.
His mind was too far away to focus on anything except that-that-that kiss with Gabriella.
Tentatively Troy brushed his fingers against his lips, shivering as he recalled a pair of soft lips that were on his. A pair of soft lips that were still beneath his. A pair of soft lips that were the caused of the fire that ignited in him, completely paralyzing his system.
He hadn't meant to kiss Gabriella. Sure, he thought about. Once or twice-every ten seconds of the day but that didn't mean it was part of his plan when he forced her to come up to the roof. It was never his intention, just as it was never his intention to make her cry.
Guilt clawed its way through him, weighting down heavily on his heart as he recalled the stream of tears that fell from Gabriella's eyes like rain. She looked so broken, so vulnerable. It was a sight he never thought he saw, one that shocked him just as much as the kiss. He honestly thought that she wasn't capable of producing tear ducts.
It wasn't like he thought she was heartless or anything. Sure, Gabriella on more than one occasion had given him (along with every person near and far) the impression that she wasn't the warmest person. There were times when the freezing weather outside seemed more welcoming than her. She seemed bottled up in a way. Distance. She was one who was very expressive with certain emotions she tolerated while she locked away those she did mind, keeping them under heavy lock and key.
Emotions YOU forced her to erupt like some sort long, overdue PMS volcano yelled his logic side that seemed to be on the dark side.
Nice job, Bolton, taunted the evil side. Cause girl to cry, try to kiss away the tears, and get punched by said crying girl. If you weren't on Montez's hit list before, I'd say you shot yourself right to the top. Congrads!
"Shut up!" Troy cried out loud. His outburst was so loud, it echoed throughout the garden, reaching down to the fields, where more than ten of his classmates paused and looked up at his direction. Quickly he dodged down, squatting against the wall.
His evil side that was starting to sound more like the devil snickered. Beautiful. Just beautiful, he laughed. If evil side were an actually person, he'd be the evil twin brother. Troy could picture him wiping away a tear and clapping to his humiliation. Before you were known as the son of the legendary, Mr. Popularity Jack Bolton and kid brother of the legendary, Mr. Perfection Michael Bolton. Now you'll be known as Troy Bolton, the sixth sense jock who talks to the voices inside his little, paranoid head.
"Shut. Up." Troy snarled.
I can already see that wonderful year book editorial made in your honor, Bolton.
Dear God. Troy groaned, smacking his forehead with both hands, wanting nothing more but to be out of his misery.
Did you really need to do that to her? His logic side asked. I understand you were trying to make a point, but you really went too far with her.
No shit, remarked quite unhelpfully his evil side. He broke her.
I know! Troy wanted to yell out, but he couldn't risk that. If word were to get around Troy Bolton was seen talking-correction: yelling-to himself but once, but twice in one day, his dad would crucify him. He sighed, banging his head softly against the stone wall. I know.
He didn't mean to make Gabriella so upset. He just wanted to make a point. He wanted to prove that they were more alike than she thought. That he saw her a bit more clearly than other. That he saw through her thick walls.
Then he saw the look in her eyes. It was a hooded, lost in time glazed look he knew entered his eyes whenever memory struck him, trapping him in a block hole.
His words got through to her. They hit her right in the gut, which Troy wanted but soon regretted when he saw the shattered expression in her eyes. When he saw tears that she had been trying to hold in flow so easily and rapidly like there were no tomorrow. When he saw her walls crumble before him, revealing the Gabriella others had never seen.
His logic side was right; he did push her. He pushed her and felt like such an idiot. He hated it whenever he was forced to remember Mike or recall things linked to his memory. It was like he was being thrown into the snake pit. Not even snakes-more so killer fanged-tooth vipers.
Yet he had done the same thing to Gabriella. He pretty much carried her over to the pit and dangled her over it, letting the vipers have all-you-can-eat-fear-buffet.
Once again well done, Romeo taunted his evil side.
"Shut up." Troy muttered half-heartedly.
When he saw how hurt she was, he knew he had to do something. Anything.
And so, lost in the trance of haunted but beautiful brown, he allowed his heart to take over logic, to unlock everything he kept locked up regarding her such as how he felt. He was powerless to stop himself from confessing how he couldn't stop thinking about her, how she was constantly flowing around his mind. Given any other day, he'd happily get mauled by his dad than to confess his feelings. He'd be dead, but at least the cause of death wouldn't be humiliation.
But the second he looked into those eyes, he was a goner. And like many goners before him, he had done the deed that sealed his fate.
He kissed her.
Troy shivered as he remembered the softness of Gabriella's lips and the heat that flooded his body as their lips met. In the trashy romances his mom and Sharpay were addicted to, the writers of those books would describe that first kiss's heat as a spark. The great, magical spark that tingled in the couple's bodies, the sweet warmth confirming what they've been thinking all along: that they were made for one another.
Troy thought it was a butt-load of crap. A spark? He scoffed. The heat he felt when he kissed Gabriella, the great nearly-consuming heat was too great to be a simple, little spark. For God's sake, the way his heart stopped it was like he was stuck by lightening. It was too hot, too-dare he say it-wow to be considered a kiss. And as for the heat convincing him that Gabriella was his soul mate or something, Troy didn't want to go there. It was all too much to think about.
He sighed again. He didn't know what to make of the kiss. It definitely knocked the seven minutes he had with Heather Homes out the water. It definitely was more than what he dreamt it would be like. It, just as much good things in life, ended too soon.
They had a moment. If there was anything Troy was surer about, it was the fact that in that spilt second they had a genuine moment. It was a moment that he completely ruined by pushing her too far and sealing the traumatic deal with a kiss.
Not only did he help bring back her walls, thickening them with pure steel with his utter stupidity. He also got Gabriella to pretty much hate his guts.
Montez with a score of a million and one. Pup with zilch, announced his game show host of an evil side.
"Shut up already!"
He was fifteen minutes late to Creative Literature, thanks to his dad who decided to call him into his office to announce that the team's practice would extend to five hours instead of the usual three. Everyone watched his ungrateful entrance to the class. All except for Gabriella who had her head down, focusing on the entries of her journal. She didn't look up once as he slowly made his way over to his desk, keeping her eyes on the book, her head down.
Her head did go up, however, when Ms. Bay and the security guards showed up and her name was called into the principal's office.
He could tell by her high arched brow she was taken by her summon to Matsui's office. But she kept her cool, closing her book and stuffing her belongings into a bag, then following-actually leading-them out.
By lunch time rolled out, word had gotten out: Gabriella Montez was busted for drug possession, facing a very lengthy suspicion but also criminal charges.
"I knew it. I knew it!" Taylor decreed. "I knew that girl was nothing but trouble."
You'd think that with his group of friends consisting of former victims of cruel gossip that his table would be immune to the drug-bust buzz going around East High. Sadly, that was not the case. The second Sharpay and Taylor joined them with their plates of Greek salad, inputs and theories were being thrown around about the scandal.
"Get this," Jason said "I heard from Rex Shells that she's the candy-woman of pills. Her locker was pretty much a pharmacy."
Troy stuffed his face with the turkey and Swiss sandwich he packed with mayo and lettuces, trying to shove in the comment he could feel trying to make his way up. He hated the way everyone, including his friends, were talking about Gabriella as if she were a criminal mastermind or something.
"Apparently she was doing much more than pills," Dear Jesus, he was about to lose it. They dragged innocent Kelsi over to the dark side. "I heard from Arthur, who heard from Minnie, that there were more than just pills. Minnie was at the principal's office around the same time Gabriella was called in, and took a peek inside. She saw a plastic bag Mr. Matsui pulled from his desk. There were pills, pot, and a bag of white powder." Kelsi leaned forward, lowering her voice to a soft whisper. Several of his friends leaned forward. "Cocaine."
Mouths dropped so low, they nearly hit the table. Heads shook their heads slowly in a disappointing manner. A pair of baby blues narrowed coldly.
The owner of the baby blues couldn't stand to hear anymore of this bullshit.
"Dang," Zeke remarked. "I knew the chick was badass, but she seriously is hardcore."
"Yeah," Jason nodded, agreeing "She puts the core in hardcore."
In unison the group groaned as they rolled their eyes and shook their heads, groaning.
Zeke lightly patted his friend's shoulder, offering them a small smile "How about we leave the two-word emphasize to me, buddy?"
Better yet, how about they dropped the topic altogether and move onto a new one? Troy was all for that proposal. Even if it meant he had to put up with the Team Peeta vs. Team Gale debate.
"But he does have a point," Taylor commented, not wanting to let the conversation die. Troy stared down at his hands that were balled into tight fists. He knew if he looked up, his expression would give him away. "I knew that girl was trouble-"
"I knew you were trouble when you walked in," Jason belted out. Zeke and Chad rolled their eyes in unison while the girls, with the expectation of Taylor, and Ryan sang along with him. "Shame on me now/flew me to places I'd never been. Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble."
Oh brother, Troy thought, rolling his eyes.
Taylor looked equally un-amused, possibly even more. "Yes, yes, yes. We're blown that the writing style that is Taylor Swift," Jason looked like he was about to say something. Whatever it was, it was instantly shut down by the hardness in Taylor's eyes. "But let me remind you that I'm the one who called that one while you guys and everyone else were gawking at her. Its people like that girl who does nothing but ruin things and all those around her. People like that girl who care for no one but themselves-"
"That girl is named Gabriella and she happens to be very nice!"
Those words were meant to be a thought vibrating in his head. But he hated the way how Taylor was talking about Gabriella, so they slipped out, coming out hard and sharp. His friends stared at him, jaws-dropped, surprised. Particularly Taylor, who knew the target that his sharpness was directed towards.
"Troy," Chad started, but Troy stopped him with a shake of his head.
Without a word, Troy grabbed his half-eaten lunch and left the table.
For the rest of the week, normalcy was the theme it seemed in his life. He woke up at five on the dot to do training sessions with his father. For two hours each morning he pushed his body beyond its limit, ignoring the aches that cut him like knives and only focusing on getting though them. In classes, he dove right into the sea of assignments, writing down notes, typing up papers, trying but miserably failing to understand the evil that was Calculus. In after-school practices, he worked hard on basketball, pushing his body hard, biting his lip whenever his dad yelled or threw the ball in his gut because of a mistake, taking his plum-bruised body to the locker room when it was over.
It was normal. The way his day was before. Familiar. And he hated it.
Call it cliché or him being dramatic, because before he loved the familiarity of his day. He loved everything being simple. He loved everything being predictable. Then his love for normalcy turned south at the arrival of a dark, tempting angel who turned his world upside down. Now that she was gone, familiarity was just empty.
Though he tried to ignore the emptiness, it was hard to. He was reminded of it when he walked into Ms. Darbus's class and noticed the empty seat in the back. He noticed it in Lab when he was mixing chemicals on his own. He noticed it in Creative Literature when the familiar mane of raven hair wasn't blocking his view, weakening him with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle.
Everytime he was reminded, three things came into his mind: the kiss that even a week later still burned his lips whenever he thought about it, the tortured look in Gabriella's usually strong eyes that made him feel like a knife was jammed in his heart, and her suspension. There was something off about it. He could feel it.
He supposed if one were to look at Gabriella and drugs, it'd be an obvious two plus two equation. After all bad girls seemed to do that sort of thing, and Gabriella clearly fitted the bill of the bad girl. She had piercings, tattoos, revealing clothing that always showed off her figure, and a mouth that could shock Robert De Niro if he heard half the things that came out of her mouth. Hence, when she convinced him to skip free period with her, he thought she was taking him to a bar.
That was before though. Before when he was blinded by the smart-ass, fiery front she wore as army.
Groaning to himself, Troy climbed out of bed at three in the morning and headed upstairs to his library. Flicking on the light, he settled down at his desk, spreading out sheets of paper and tapping the pen against the desk, trying to figure out where to start.
According to witnesses who were outside the office, Matsui sent the guards to Gabriella's locker shortly after Ms. Mills found a note on her desk saying that there was suspicious activity going on in Locker 596. According to Penelope Milles, who was Ms. Mills' part-time assistant and one of Sharpay's reliable sources, the guards found the bag of drugs on the first shelve, in plain sight.
A note that informed Matsui that suspicious activity was going on. The bag of drugs being left in plain sight when they searched her locker. Something definitely wasn't right.
Now Troy didn't know much about drug-dealing other than what he had seen in movies and TV shows and read about in books. But one of the things he took away from what he had seen and read about the topic was that drug-dealers, when caught or careful to avoid being caught, hid their stashes in secret hiding places not even close friends would know where to look. No drug-dealer, no matter how cocky, wouldn't bother hiding their stash for the sake of caution.
Leaving it-correction-not even bothering to hide the drugs was naïve and incredibly stupid. Gabriella was many things: wild, unpredictable, cool, bold. The girl was way far from naïve. Stupidity was one of the few words he'd never use to describe her.
Then there was also the note that informed the principal of the drugs. It seemed too awfully convenient that the evidence was sitting in plain sight when the guards searched Gabriella's locker. Much too convenient for Troy's liking.
She was framed, Troy concluded, and he intended to find out by whom.
The next day at school, Troy searched through the sea of students to find his pink-obsessed friend. He found her pressed against Zeke's locker, their bodies tangled in limbs, their lips doing more than pecking.
Without missing a beat, Troy walked by and yanked Sharpay away. The move was done so swiftly, Zeke leaned in for another kiss and ended up with a bruised forehead, courtesy of his locker.
"Hey!" he complained.
"Troy!" Sharpay exclaimed.
"Sorry," he said to the angry couple, still walking. "Need to borrow your girlfriend for a bit. I'll return her to you as soon as I'm done."
"Troy!" She banged against his arm, trying to free her arm.
He led them to the library, which was empty with the expectation of the librarian checking in some books at the front side. Still, it was East High and he never knew who could be close, eavesdropping on their private conversation. To be on the safe side, he took Sharpay upstairs to the fourth floor that housed the nonfictions and autobiographies, a section practically no one searched through.
The second they were up, Sharpay, with a loud grunt, yanked her arm from Troy's grip, caring for it tenderly though there wasn't a scratch on her skin. "Geez, Troy, man-handle much?"
"Gabriella doesn't do drugs. She doesn't deal either, and that bag wasn't hers." Troy wasted no time getting to the point. "Someone framed her."
"What?" Any annoyance she had felt towards for him interrupting her morning suck-face time with Zeke disappeared immediately.
"She was framed," Troy quickly covered Sharpay's mouth before she asked another question. "I can't give any other explanation other than the fact this whole thing doesn't seem right to me. There's more to the story, Shar. I know it-I can feel it. Gabriella was framed, and because of evidence and her reputation Matsui will just think this is an open and shut case. But I'm not going to let that happen. I'm going to get to the bottom of this."
Sharpay managed to wiggle her lips free from Troy's grasp. After giving Troy a dark glare, she quickly grabbed her mirror and her tube of Chanel lip-gloss, retouching her smudged lips with three strokes of her brush. She winked at her reflection, smiling admirably. "Fabulous."
On brother. Troy rolled his eyes. Half the time he couldn't tell which of the following Sharpay loved more: the spotlight, Zeke, or her reflection. "Sharpay, can you put away the mirror and focus?"
Ignoring his request, she held the mirror as she looked hard into her reflection, searching for any signs of imperfection. She gave her blonde hair a few fluffs and combed it out with her fingers. "And why may I ask would you take it upon yourself to help a distraction?" She held her hand out, cutting Troy off before he could get a word out. "Remember how you told this you had your four main goals. You mentioned that the key step of achieving those goals would be avoiding any sort of distraction. And it's clear to anyone with functioning eyes that Gabriella Montez became your distraction. So why do want to help?"
Before Sharpay held out her hand, he was ready to chew her head off. Hearing Gabriella being referred to as a distraction brought to live great defensiveness he didn't know he possessed. As she continued to talk, though, his anger toned down bit by bit as her words got to him. He couldn't deny that she was right: part of his goals was to avoid anything that would get in the way of them. Gabriella happened, and she soon became that thing.
She brought lightness (in her own way) to his seriousness. She brought spontaneous to his familiarity. She brought a whole new perspective that dimmed the importance of his goals. She had him questioning himself, what he believed were important. He became so scared of what she was doing, that he decided distance was the best thing for her, pretty much implying at Burger King last month in a sugar-coded way that she wasn't good for him.
At the time he thought he was being reasonable. Sincere. But Sharpay saying what he pretty much told Gabriella not only one, but-recalling the disastrous Christmas party-twice made him realize how really awful they sounded on the other end.
Good God, I'm such an idiot. Troy mentally slapped himself in the forehead.
Sharpay fixed her makeup one more time before snapping shut her mirror and placing it back in her bag. Turning over to Troy, she asked "Why would you want to go help strength something you consider to be a no-no in the great Troy Bolton's plan for success?"
"Because I owe her."
It may not have been the most daring or clever answer, but it was a true one. He did owe Gabriella for a lot of things. He owed her for throwing her into the black pit of memories. He owed her for making her recall a memory so bad that she ended up crying. He owed her for taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable. He owed her for being straight-forward and not walking on egg-shells around him. He owed her for being an attentive ear that listened to him-really listened to him. He owed her for never questioning or pitying the scars but understanding them with that steady, non-judgmental look in her eyes.
"I owe her." he repeated again more firmly.
Sharpay looked at Troy for what felt like an hour. He couldn't be sure, but it was as if she was able to read his thoughts and knew the reasons behind his words. He thought this because in an instant a smile spread across her glossy, pink lips. "So what do you want me to do, Sherlock Holmes?"
There were times like this that Troy was grateful to have Sharpay as a sister. He pecked her on the cheek. "You rock, you know that?"
"Yes I do," she nodded. "And I also know my very generous rockiness doesn't come cheap. I know you met up with Gabriella before she was called into the principal's office. I also know something very juicy happened between the two of you because, according to witnesses, you looked extremely flushed in your next class. I want details and I want them now."
His smile shattered like a vase knocked down to the floor. Her smile was wide and wicked like the Cheshire cat.
Damn. He really should have seen that one coming.
You can do this. You can do this, Troy told himself.
It was Saturday afternoon and he was parked outside of Starbucks on Wayland Street, watching people going in and coming out. He had been inside his car, watching people go in and out, repeating the same chant for the past three hours.
It's now or never, Bolton. If you don't go in, then you'll be stuck here all night.
Taking in a deep breath, Troy unlocked his car, got out, and walked into the café, walking quickly. He knew if he took a slow step, then hesitation kicked in. When the hesitation kicked in, then he'd be back inside the car, trying to gather up his courage again.
Though it was late in the afternoon, close to nighttime, the place was still fairly busy. Most of the tables were taken over by customers chatting with friends or on the phone over coffee or searching the web on their flashy laptops or iPads. There were three sets of lines at the cashier, which was run by three workers.
Gabriella wasn't among them. Either she had left earlier or worked a different case. Her friend-dark-skinned, good-looking, had his hands around her body when the two tangoed to Shakira-on the other hand was taking orders from line two.
Alright. You can do this. You can do this. Troy chanted as he got in line two, practicing what was going to say to him.
Try to make a conversation with him. Talk about sports. He must like sports. After all dancing is a sport, right? Then again that's not the best thing. Maybe you should talk about movies. Debate whether Batman would beat Superman in a fight. Talk about whether the Dark Knight Rises lived up to The Dark Knight. Then in the middle of the conversation, slyly put in Gabriella's name and see if you get a phone number from him.
"Next," he called, not even bothering to look up from the register.
You can do this, Troy told himself.
The last time Troy had seen this guy, he was dancing with Gabriella, kissing her in front of customers shamelessly. It was clear the two of them were close. He had a hard time believing that Gabriella would let anyone touch her shoulder without twisting their arm, much less kiss her like that. Nevertheless the two were close, so naturally Troy thought that he was the best way for him to get Gabriella's number.
He certainly didn't expect for Rob-thankfully he had his name tag-to look up and immediately burst into laughter.
"Dear God. Dear God." Rob laughed so hard that he held onto his stomach with one hand.
Okay then. "I take it you remember me," Troy took the loud boast of laughter as a yes. "Good to know. May I ask what's so funny?"
It took awhile for Rob to control himself. He gave Troy a slight smile the Wildcats captain couldn't tell whether it was sincere or taunting. The smile looked to be a bit of both. "I'm laughing because I'm picturing the scenario that would have gone down if you had come by two hours earlier. One very violent yet comical scenario that would be the top-watched video on YouTube, most-viewed post on Facebook, and most re-blogged post on Tumblr."
So he was right. Gabriella was here. And he missed her. Troy wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing. "She's really mad at me, isn't she?"
Rob leaned forward, as if they were two friends trading secrets. The amusement oozing from his smile alerted Troy that he was being taunted. "Let's put it this way, puppy dog," His smile grew bigger as he noticed the flash of irritation passing through Troy's eyes. He didn't seem to let him alternating Gabriella's nickname for him. "Before you say '"Hi'" you'll be sprawled on the ground and looking at a plate of your ripped-off, charred-black balls Gabriella tore off and triple-dipped in the fryer."
Good God. Troy shuddered. He was able to picture that very graphic scene with perfect clarity. "I see."
Rob laughed again, his hand poised on the register, ready to type in the order. "So what do you want?"
There goes Troy's plan for talking about the Batman movies. Since Rob threw in Gabriella's name, Troy saw there was no point wasting opprunity. "I want a phone number."
Without looking up, Gabriella's friend said "Flattered, but I'm more so interested in ladies' parts. You can try our manager, Randy. He's quite the sucker for baby blues."
Wait! WHAT?!
"Dude, I'm not gay!" His voice rose higher than he intended, grabbing the attention of everyone in the café. Blushing bright red, Troy looked down at his shoes.
Entertained by the boy's humiliation, Rob did little to hold in his laughter. "What a darn shame. You would have been the closest thing Randy had to doing with the horizontal mambo with Zac Efron."
Troy glared at him, and Rob only laughed harder. Troy was starting to see why Gabriella and this guy got along so well. They both had the same sense of dry, twisted humor. "Funny."
"I know, I know," Rob easily took Troy's sarcasm as a compliment. "I'll be here all week."
Hot. Dog. Troy did little to resist rolling his eyes. He could definitely understand why Gabriella tolerated this guy. "Look I don't know whatever impression I must had given you, but I don't play for that team. I'm into girls and only girls."
Especially one fiery Latina with piercing eyes and a wicked smile that entangled him into her dark web.
It was as if Rob was a mind-reader that knew what was going on inside Troy's head. The amusement in his face toned down. He almost looked serious-serious as he could be. "Yea, I can tell."
"But I do need a number."
"And whose number would that be?"
Troy wasted no time. "The fiery Latina whom you predicted would serve me my dick extra crispy."
When Rob looked back up at Troy, every bit of amusement vanished from his face, making him look older and much more intimidating than Troy thought he could look. "And what makes you think I'll do that?"
Steady now, Troy. You can do this. "Well you two seem close. I would have to guess that you know how I can reach her."
"Let me rephrase the question. Why should I give you her number?"
"Because-"Good God, damn. Out of all the things to prepared himself for, he didn't anticipate Rob would be asking why he needed her phone. He honestly thought Rob's good-nature mood and amusement would have him write it down for him with no questions asked.
Without skipping a beat, Rob pushed Troy aside and served the three people who were behind Troy waiting to order, signaling that the conversation was over.
What the hell! Troy stared at him, incredulous. Rob didn't acknowledge the glare he sent him, focusing on the customers' orders.
"Thank you. Come again." Rob smiled charmingly at the middle-aged woman who ordered a large white chocolate mocha and dropped a generous five dollars into the tip jar. His charming smile turned sour as Troy stepped forward, a look of determination "Goodbye."
"I'll go goodbye when you give me that number."
Eyes narrowed coldly, Rob looked Troy right in the eye as he said "Gabriella is better off without you."
If Rob meant for his words to sting, they succeed. Troy felt like he was stung by dozens of bees.
He looked up at Rob and instantly looked away, regretting that move. The look in Rob's eyes was dark yet knowing, as if he knew what Troy had done to Gabriella. How he called her a distraction he couldn't have in his life. How he broke down her walls. How he broke her.
Rob shook his head, making a sound under his breath that sounded like a snort, as moved him aside and took three more orders.
As soon as he was done with the last customer, Troy stepped in front of him, accepting the frown on Rob's face with one of his own.
"Goodbye!" Rob repeated.
"I'm not going anywhere until I get what I came here for!" Troy said. "Look I understand that you care about her. But you know what? So do I-and a hell lot more than I possibly thought I could. And you know, maybe you're right. Maybe she's better off without me. Maybe I just mess things, like I do with everything else in my life. But I made a mistake-a dozens of mistakes, actually-and I need to talk to her. You want to play overprotective friend or make-out buddy or whatever the hell you are to her, then fine. Go ahead. I'll just find some other way to talk to her, and you can bet your ass that I will find that way. Even if I have to drive around every block and neighborhood in town until I see her, then I will."
Rob looked at him, looked at him for what felt like forever. He shook his head and went back to the register.
Okay then. Troy accepted this defeat with a nod, turning around and heading to the door. Looks like he had a lot of driving to do.
"Yo puppy dog!" Troy turned around and saw Rob beckoning him. Immediately he went to him.
Sighing under his breath, Rob handed him a napkin he folded. Troy found he written not only Gabriella's number, but her address.
Stunned, Troy looked up at Rob, who only shrugged. "If you plan on calling, she'll never pick up if she sees an unknown number on her phone. If you actually have the balls to show up at her door, then make you have a pepperoni pizza with you. She'll be too distracted by the pizza to see the person holding it."
Without another word, Rob went to the back to check on stock, leaving the stunned teenager alone.
Good God, Troy thought.