ET Chapter 23: Twist Me, Take me, Kiss Me
"You have reached your destination," said the feminine, monotone voice coming from Troy's GPS.
One thought came to mind as Troy stared around his surroundings, taking in the tall, run-down apartment buildings arranged in a half circle. Most were three stories, four stories. The one right in front of him was five stories tall, the biggest out of them and appeared the most run-down.
Holy hell.
Now Troy liked to think of himself as a very culture, well-rounded guy. He liked to think that, despite his wealthy background, he wasn't spoiled rotten and snobby, like his parents who had no shame throwing money around like tissues. Or like the Evans twins whose idea of roughing it was spending time at their lake-house that only had one hot-tub and two indoor pools.
Okay, yes, he never had to be of want of anything materially. His mom had the maids and butlers order new things every week. Sure, he had a choice to drive any of the Italian sport cars that were parked in their garage. And, yes, he will admit any place he ever been to always featured at least two pools and an entertainment room. But he would like to think he wasn't completely clueless.
However, being in Gabriella's neck of the woods, Troy realized how blind he really could be.
The address Rob had given Troy was far from Troy's neck of the woods, leading to an area that was known more for its' hostility than hospitality. Anxiety grew in his stomach as he drove, noticing how smaller and shabbier the buildings appeared as he drove, the more apartments came to view, the more graffiti was sprayed onto walls.
He finally reached his destination, stopping in front of a series of apartments located at a dead end street. The five-story, run-down building was where Gabriella lived.
Troy didn't want to seem like a wuss, but he couldn't deny that he was feeling uneasy. It could because of the illegal gambling game going on across from the street, where three Hispanic men were rolling dice. It could because of the three pairs of sneakers dangling from the phone lines, softly swinging back and forth, sending a chill through his spine. It could because of the number of dark glares he received of the residents coming in and going out, obviously not liking some rich dude slumming in their territory.
Except you're not slumming, reminded his logic side. You're here to make things right.
Troy looked over at the passenger seat, where laid an extra large pepperoni from Bertucci's with a side order of their rolls, still steaming hot, and Tuscan chicken wings. Rob mentioned that if he was brave enough for a house-visit, then he better have a pepperoni pizza with him. He wasn't sure which pizza place to go, so he settled with place that was known for the best pizza.
Troy's thought came to a halt as one of the gamblers-a Puerto Rican if he had to guess-took a break from the game, resting on the hood of Troy's car.
What the hell? Troy stared at the man, incredulous.
Oblivious to Troy's shock, the man had himself a cigarette as he told a call, blowing rings of smoke while speaking in rapid Spanish.
Rude, Troy thought, his annoyance growing. He stuck his head out the car window and called out to him "Hey buddy!"
The man didn't acknowledge Troy or didn't care to do so. He took another drag of his cigarette and placed the burning tip against the side of his car.
Forget growing. Troy's annoyance flared, flared as bright as his cigarette tip. If his dad saw the burnt mark, he'll burn Troy himself with a life-size cigarette. And make sure to do it slowly. And the last thing he needed was Jack's anger.
"Hey buddy!" he repeated, honking his honk. "Move it or pay for it."
Finally the guy looked at him, and the look he gave Troy was scary to say the least. Taking one last puff, he drew the burning tip from the left side over to the center of the car while blowing a cloud of smoke in Troy's direction.
"To you from me, white boy." He smirked tauntingly, blowing him a kiss. He tapped the car's hood with a hard force, nearly creating a dent, and went back to the game, where his friends were chuckling like hyenas over the ordeal.
Good God. Talk about a friendly welcoming into the neighborhood. If this was the environment Gabriella had grown up in, then he was beginning to understand her attitude.
Troy tried to hold in the coughing that was suffocating him, caused from the jerk's massive smoke cloud. The last thing he wanted was to give those clowns something else to laugh about. Anyway he had more important things to think about. Like how he was going to get inside.
There was a buzzer by the side of the door. Easiest solution to his dilemma would be to get out the car and buzzed Gabriella's apartment. However, there were complications to that solution. One of them being the fact he actually had to speak when using the buzzer. If he buzzed and didn't say anything, then Gabriella would assume he was some freak and won't let him in. If he buzzed and actually spoke into the intercom, then she'd let him stay out there till the next ice-age. He needed a way in without letting Gabriella know of his presence.
He looked over at the gamblers completely absorbed in their game. The one in the middle, thick-necked and bulky compared to the two, came from Gabriella's apartment over an hour ago. He could be swayed to help-on second thought. Nah.
Troy wasn't even going to go there.
Then, as if fate itself decided to lend a poor guy a hand, a blue beat-up Subaru zoomed into the area, parking in front of Troy. What came out was a Chinese-food delivery man from Dragon Wok carrying what looked to be a dozen bags of food walking toward Gabriella's apartment building.
Troy wasted no time grabbing the food and his backpack, which he packed in case he needed to use their project as an excuse for access, and followed the guy. The guy looked at Troy funny, taking in the odd smile on the teenager's face, but nevertheless buzzed the apartment.
"Dragon Wok." The deliveryman said into the intercom. Five seconds later, the buzz went off and they were in.
Sweet.
The inside of the apartment wasn't really bad per say. It definitely was depressing, though, with the dimmed ceiling lights going on and off, the gray walls that had graffiti written on them on some areas with the paint peeling off, and the series of doors that lined the walls.
"First time here?" Troy turned around, meeting the curious eyes of the deliveryman. He was surprised to find him still standing there.
Troy hesitated, but nodded a second later. Amusement dashed across the boy's eyes in a very eerie way that reminded him of Rob. To further prove the similarities between the two, the guy laughed to himself over something Troy had done that he wasn't aware of.
Now the moment felt very déjà vu-like. A little too much for Troy's liking. "Do you know how I can get to the fifth floor?"
Trying but failing to hold in his laughter, the guy pointed to a staircase hidden behind dark doors. A staircase that was more like staircases. A long, long series of staircases that didn't look like stairs but more so like the Great Wall of China stairs with more than a thousand high steps.
Dear God. Just looking at it made his legs throb.
"I don't suppose there's an elevator." Troy said, praying so. He turned around to find the delivery guy gone, his laughter bouncing off the walls. He took his depature as a no.
Troy scowled at where he stood and gulped as he turned back to the staircase that was practically growing, installing more and more steps, before his eyes.
Good God help him.
Five flights of stairs later and ten thousand steps later, Troy wanted to scream out to heavens that he made it while simultaneously collapse onto the ground, using the food as his pillows.
His legs burnt with such a deep ache, it hurt even to wriggle his toes. He was wheezing heavily, as if he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs. His shirt wasn't damp-but drenched in sweat, making the fabric clung tightly against his chest.
Wow, his evil side taunted. East High's basketball captain defeated by stairs. What would dear daddy say about this?
Jack wouldn't say anything. Troy knew his dad too well. Well, actually, he would say something. He'd call Troy the weakest piece of shit he has ever met. Then make him sprint up and down those stairs until his feet gushed out blood. Or until he dropped dead. Whichever came first.
He bit forced on his bottom lip as he entered into the fifth floor, ignoring the painful protest his body was doing against the movement. As much as he would love to collapse onto the floor and rest until next week, he still had work to do.
The fifth floor was split into two different wings. Apartments 500 through 525 were on his left side while apartments 526 through 550 were on his right. Gabriella lived in apartment 546, so Troy headed right.
He found the apartment close to the end of the hall. Close by a large window that overlooked the back of the building, which didn't have much other than a chalk-drawn hop-stoch in purple and a sad-looking garden that had more weeds than actual flowers. Troy couldn't help but feel sad as he looked at it.
Apartment 546 was different from the other apartments. While Troy was walking down the doors, his ears were filled with the various sounds blasting from inside from loud music and TV, heated arguments between people with each other or parents, temper-tantrum toddlers and babies screaming at the top of their lungs, and couples-well…couples enjoying themselves very, very loudly with a lot of banging and screaming.
"Oh…ah…Yes! Yes! Right there!" screamed a very vocal woman across the hall. A blush spread across Troy's cheeks as he listened to the loud banging that followed after her praise.
While all the other apartments were alive with their noises, it was all quiet in 546. Too quiet.
Maybe she's sleeping, Troy thought. She could be out.
Only one way to find out, his logic side said.
Troy balled his hand into a fist and knocked against the door once, twice, three times, and four.
He waited. Nothing.
If at first you don't succeed, try again.
Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding in, he raised his fist to knock again. Before his hand could touch the door, it flew open.
Gabriella leaned against the doorframe, one hand holding the door, the other resting on her hip. Her left eyebrow rose slightly, but other than that her facial expression didn't give her away. She looked completely indifferent seeing him, almost as if she knew he'd be on the other side of the door.
His heart ached at the sight of her, as if the sight of her was too much for him to handle. He wondered once again how it was possible that a girl with her hair tied into a sloppy bun and no makeup look more intoxicating than any model on the magazines.
His eyes widened in shock as they took in the ensemble she had thrown on. A white t-shirt and nothing else that ended before her thighs, showing a great amount of legs. The words I HEART THE COCK was written across her chest, printed in bold bright red.
A bright red that matched the shade of Troy's blush once he realized that five seconds had gone by and spent those seconds staring at her like he was some kind of nutcase. "-"
The door slammed in his face before he could finish "Hi."
Okay. That went well.
It looked like Rob really wasn't kidding when he said she was pissed at him.
"Gabriella?" he called. Nothing. He knocked, and this time the door didn't open again. "I know I probably deserve that, but I need to explain. I brought some food. It's Bertucci's."
She did open the door-to snatch the box out of his hands and slam the door in his face once again, breaking in his nose in the process.
God damn it. Troy sealed his lips together to keep in his pained cry, holding his nose tenderly. It may not be broken, but he could feel a bruise beginning to form.
"Well you smashed my nose in, thank you very much." he said to what may have been an empty door. "You can at least thank me for the food, you know."
A folded piece of paper slide underneath the door. Still holding his bruise-tender nose, Troy squatted down and unfolded it.
GO FUCK YOURSELF, it read.
Nice, his evil side snickered.
Shut up! Annoyed, Troy stood up and pounded his fist against the door. "You know that was completely necessary."
Ouch. Good comeback, pup.
Shut up!
"Okay, look, I may deserve some of it, but if you're mad at me-well we both know you are-then you can at least open the door and say to my face," He pressed his ear against the door. He heard the sound of a TV being turned on, set on a soft volume. "Gabriella, I just want to talk."
Nothing.
"I know you're in there and I know you can hear me," Inside, he could hear the TV's volume turning up. He was sure she increased the volume to block out his voice. "I'm not going anywhere until you open this door and let me in. I'll stand here all night if I have to."
Later on he wished he watched his mouth, because Gabriella took his word for it. He waited and waited for thirty minutes. Then thirty minutes turned into an hour, an hour turned into two hours, and two hours was on its way to three.
After standing on his feet for an hour and some change, Troy leaned against the door and sat down, watching the time slowly go by. He entertained himself with his phone, though had to put that activity on halt when he saw the battery was low. He kept his head down whenever one of the doors opened and a resident stepped out. He felt their glares burning on him as they walked by, probably thinking he was a creep or a boyfriend who got the boot.
More like the door, his evil side reminded.
Not helping.
Sighing, he knocked softly on the door. He wasn't surprised that the door didn't open.
"I'm sorry, Gabriella. I'm really, really sorry about everything."
Soon enough three hours turned into four hours.
It was around that time that someone came out of their home. Three doors down across the hall, a man who looked like he was in his early fifties and thinning hair stepped out and looked at Troy. Unlike the other gazers, he didn't glance once and moved on. Instead he kept his eyes on Troy, smiling as he leaned against his doorframe, apparently making no plans of going anywhere soon. There was something in his smile, as well as the look in his eye, that made Troy fell uncomfortable in a naked, exposed way.
He blew a kiss in Troy's direction just like the rude gambler had done earlier. Difference between the two air kisses was one was out of spite while the other was done because-
Good God, no. The realization hit Troy like a barrel of bricks. His face turned completely red as the man's smile widened. As the smile widened, with his eyes still locked on Troy's, his hand went down inside his pants.
Troy was up in a flash, banging against the door rapidly, as if his life depended. Which, in this case, it kinda did. He was shocked the door didn't break down by the banging. "GABRIELLA, OPEN THE DOOR!"
He hated that he said like a desperate nutcase, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And when you have a possible-but-most-likely pedophile masturbating behind you and asking for your name, it'd be sin not to resort to desperate measures.
"GABRIELLA, OPEN UP!" Troy pound and pound against the door until he heard a loud "God damnit!" which at the moment was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.
With a nasty scowl on her face that would have made Nick Fury cower, Gabriella yanked him in.
Being pulled into Gabriella's apartment was like stepping into a whole another world. It was drastically different from his house. One of the main differences being the fact that his house was simply a house while Gabriella's apartment felt like home. True, it was smaller than any room in his house. It made the maids' laundry room like villa. But what it lacked in size, it made up with quality. The atmosphere was so alive, radiating warmth that felt cozy as a nice blanket.
The living room and kitchen were next door neighborhoods, separated by a countertop table with high stools for chairs that reminded Troy of something from iCarly. The kitchen was pretty cramped with the refrigerator taking up most space, a high chair, and smelt heavily of spices. The living room walls were alive in bright color, splashed with yellow and red. There was a small TV in a black TV stand that had seen better days with dozens of photos on top of the stand and around the wall behind the TV.
The place definitely wasn't fancy, but it was still good.
He almost smiled, taking it all in. Instead he grimaced, trying to seal in a grunt, as pain slammed into his left shoulder.
Courtesy of Gabriella's tight fist.
Good God. For such a small girl she really could pack a punch.
"Jesus Christ, Gab-" He stopped short when he saw the chilling darkness raging in her eyes.
"Rob's the one, isn't he?" It was the first thing she said to him since he's been here. Words that were spoken softly yet were packed with barely suppressed venom.
He was confused on why her chuckling friend was brought into the conversation until it hit him. She meant Rob was the one who gave him her address. Slowly he nodded.
The fire blazed in her eyes was wild enough to burn down the entire neighborhood. Under her breath, she murmured a string of venom-spat Spanish words.
"Dead rat," was what Troy managed to translate. He hoped she was referring to Rob as the dead rat.
"Um," He congratulated himself for not cowering when her fire-blaze eyes shot up at him, even though he was mentally flinching at the sight. "I brought some food over…" His voice trailed off as he noticed the Bertucci boxes on the coffee table. The appetizers long gone while there were a few slices of the pizza left. "Which clearly you enjoyed."
Un-amused, Gabriella folded her arms against her chest and arched a brow at Troy. From the look on her face, it was clear she would have no problem kicking him out if he didn't get to the point.
Troy cleared his throat and resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. Good God he should have prepared for this.
Just say what's on your mind.
Clearing his throat once more, he let out a nervous breath. "I know you were set up. I know someone or a group of someones framed you. And I want you to know that I know you're innocent, and that I'm going to find out who did it."
Okay so it wasn't exactly The King's Speech, but at least he got to the point.
He looked at Gabriella, whose face was still neutral, revealing nothing. But he could tell his words were heard by her.
"I may not know you that well," he continued. "But I knew enough. I know that you're smart. Brilliantly smart. You're confident but you're not conceited. You're insanely, amazingly talented. You take no bullshit from anyone, even from idiot pups like me. Pups that try to do the right thing even though they just make a mess of everything. Pups that try to show you that we're not that different. Pups that go too far and make you cry-which was never their intention. Pups that make such asses of themselves-"
Gabriella pressed her hand against his mouth, silencing him. Her face was still unreadable but her eyes told him a different story.
She looked like she was ready to say something, but Troy never got a chance to find out what. A loud wailing broke the moment.
Gabriella took her hand back, and Troy tried not to notice the lack of warmth and softness that left his lips. She walked down the hall, disappearing into a room. "Make yourself useful and grab me a bottle from the fridge."
Troy found a fresh bottle in the fridge, grabbed it, and went into the room Gabriella entered.
The room was a small nursery; the room size that of a closet. The entire room painted in mint green and mocha brown, reminding Troy of mint chocolate chip ice cream. There were pictures of the characters from Seasame Street, Dora the Explorer and her cousin Diego, Jake with his pirate friends, and, of course, Barney. The crib had matching mint-green and brown bedding set that matched the wall with a plush Elmo and baby Mickey Mouse. There were piles of toys on the ground, some drooled out and others ripped. A chestnut dresser with what looked like a portable changing pad that looked used took a majority of space, leaving only enough space for a rocker.
The rocker was occupied by Gabriella cradling a small baby that was yawning against her breast, snuggling against her.
Gabriella looked in a way Troy had yet to see her before: content. Completely content with bright warmth in her eyes as she looked down at the baby. She held protective grip around him as she handled him tenderly, gently rocking him and dropping soft kisses on his head.
Taylor's words echoed his head. "…she's a teen mom…Hispanic; really adorable…the way the baby clung to her was the exact same way a baby clung to their mother."
Could this baby really be Gabriella's? Was this child her kid?
"Are you going to stand there and gawk or make yourself useful and give me the bottle?"
Great. He was caught staring yet again. He was thanking his lucky stars that she was focusing on the baby and not him. Otherwise his face would be mistaken for a tomato.
He handed her the bottle and stood close by as she fed the baby. The baby's eyes widened a bit, looking a bit more attentive, as he drank the baby. His eyes looked an awful lot like Gabriella's. The same shade of beautiful, melted chocolate. Wide framed with thick lashes. But, while Gabriella's eyes were guarded and often chilled, the baby's eyes were free and warm.
"He's not my son," Gabriella informed. "He's my nephew, Paco."
"Huh? What?" Troy pulled his gaze away from the baby's to look to Gabriella. She didn't look up to meet his gaze. She kept her eyes locked on the kid. "I wasn't thinking-"
She shook her head and muttered some Spanish under her breath he knew were aimed at him. She looked like she'd roll her eyes if it weren't for the baby. "Please. You're an open book, Bolton. And I have little doubt that McKessie didn't waste time telling you and your posse that he's one of the ten children I popped out."
"What-no-I mean-well," Troy bit his tongue hard to stop his rambling. "I mean she did-but-well-he…he really does look a lot like you."
She said nothing else and concentrated. After awhile of waiting for a remark, Troy relaxed and watched Paco along with her. He really was a cute baby. It was hard to look away from him. It was even harder not to smile a bit when looking at him.
"How old is he?" Troy asked.
"Thirteen months." Gabriella wiped a drop of milk rolling down his cheek. Then used the same finger to lightly tap his nose, which brought a chuckle to the baby.
The moment felt so perfect, so nice that Troy wished he has his camera to record the moment. At the same time, though, he felt like an intruder witnessing a very private moment he wasn't meant to see.
Though Paco wasn't her kid, it was clear that he held a special place in his aunt's heart. It was clear in the way she held him. It was clear in the way she looked at him. It was clear in the way she smiled at him.
He had a good feeling that it was a smile that rarely surfaced. He wanted to be the one to put that smile there more often.
When Paco was done drinking, he burped loudly, which caused the two teenagers to laugh. He joined in their laughter, laughing the loudest. He then took notice of Troy standing there and stuck his right hand out, as if he was reaching for him.
"He's a really cute kid." Troy said.
"Of course he is. He's a Montez." Her smile, though still unfamiliarly warm, leaned a bit on the smug side. The baby squirmed in her arms laughing and reaching for Troy. Gabriella kept a firm grip on him. "Looks like he wants to get acquainted with you."
"Hi Paco." Troy waved at the baby. The baby laughed harder and squirmed more. "Can I hold him?"
Gabriella's smile faded as she arched a brow, her expression once again unreadable. She motioned Troy to come closer and gently laid Paco in his arms.
Paco laughed while Troy rocked him. Troy brought the baby close to his face, getting a better at him. Up close he was even more adorable, which Troy didn't think was possible. His eyes were lit with a bright smile in them, making them look beautiful. His dark brown hair was almost the exact shade as his eyes.
"You really are a good-looking baby. You have some pretty good-looking par-OUCH!"
Paco grabbed a fistful of Troy's hair with both hands and yanked hard, finding delight in the older boy's pain.
"You seriously have a strong grip for a one year old." Troy said through clenched teeth.
He looked over at the boy's aunt, who wasn't much help at the moment. She was enjoying Troy's pain as much as the baby, laughing twice as hard. "A little help here?"
Laughing, Gabriella laughed as she got up from the rocker and came over to assist. She gently pulled Paco away from Troy, one hand holding him tight, the other tapping his fists. "Release, Paco. Release."
The baby yanked hard, nearly tearing the roots from his scalp before releasing. He settled in his aunt's arms.
"Thank you." Troy winced as he touched his head. It was a light touch that unreleased a chain reaction of throbbing pain. It was as if he had his hair yo-yoed by the Hulk. Repeatedly.
"Yanking hair is Paco's way of welcoming strangers," Gabriella explained. "Think of it as an initiation to his inner circle. And that he sees your pain as a source of entertainment."
So like aunt, like nephew both took pleasure in other people's pain. Good to know.
"Look. Why don't you go into the bathroom and check on your head while I put mi precioso to sleep?" Gabriella suggested.
The suggestion sounded like a pretty good idea to Troy.
He sneaked a peek at Paco, and a small smile spread across his face before he could help himself. Even though his scalp was hurting, he couldn't find himself to feel any ill-temperance to the baby. It was hard to even feel upset when looking at such an angelic face.
"Bye Paco," he kneeled down to the baby's level and waved. "It was nice meeting-OUCH!"
The baby sucker-punched his nose. Hard.
"Do you feed this guy steroids or something?" Three hits in one day, including the hair-yanking. It should be a record.
Gabriella snorted, settling her laughing nephew on her hip. "Just go to the bathroom before you get a fat lip."
Troy glared at her, but it was a glare that was wasted on Gabriella, who turned her back to him. He found the bathroom across Paco's room. The place was so small, everything was smushed together.
He looked at his reflection. His nose was bruised and looked purplish ripe, but it wasn't too bad. His head shot a jolt of pain whenever he touched it, but there was no bleeding.
This is really beautiful, his evil side said. You not only got knocked around by Montez. You also suffer the righteous might of her one year old nephew.
I did not get suffer any righteous might of a baby, asshole. I was just caught off guard.
Whatever helps you sleep at night.
Troy snorted, leaving that as his final word. Once everything was all checked out and looked decent, he left the bathroom.
He was on his way to the living room until he heard something from Paco's room. Singing.
It was Gabriella singing.
Stunned, he pressed his ear against the door. It was beautiful. Unbelievably beautiful. The kind of voice a man wanted to hear before the angel of death took him away.
He peeked into the room. Gabriella was standing over Paco's crib, singing a Spanish lullaby softly to the sleeping baby as she rubbed his back, a soft smile on her face.
It was astonishing to see such a beautiful, even if soft, smile from her. It was astonishing to see her at such ease, her guard left down and her walls momentarily open.
He shut the door softly behind him. He didn't want Gabriella to catch him spying on her.
He was ready to go into the living until he spotted a room that was down the hall, almost isolated from the other two bedrooms and the bathroom. He could see the door was open just a crack, its contents indicating that it belonged to a teenager girl. Or, in her case, a young woman.
His feet walked him to the door before he could a breath. His hand touched the knob, waiting to turn it.
Does he dare open it?
No, no, and no! His logic side exclaimed. Bolton, you're signing your own death certificate if you open that door. For God's sake, moron, it's a complete invasion of privacy.
Privacy, smrivacy, argued his evil double. Don't you get it, Bolton? This is the prayer that you've been waiting for. For months you've been trying to figure out Montez. What lies behind this door could be the answer you've been waiting for. This could be your only shot to know more about her.
Damn his logic side for bringing up a good point. Damn his devil side for bringing up a good and also tempting point as well.
What the hell was he going to do? Risk his neck or satisfy curiosity?
The choice is yours, Bolton, they said in unison.
Troy sucked in a deep breath. Then quickly opened the door and ran inside as he was given a five second head-start.
What he saw stunned him. He pictured Gabriella's room to be completely edgy, painted in dark colors, with posters of hard-core skeletons and classic rock and rollers.
He saw Christmas lights draped on the ceiling.
He saw purple. Not on the walls, though. The rest of the room. The soft purple rug, the bed setting, and curtains, though they were tainted with black edges.
He saw a mess. Clothes scattered everywhere, on the window still, on the bed, hanging on the closet door, peeking through the half-open drawers of her dresser. The bed was even unmade, the pillows lopsided and pushed to the wall, the blanket close to falling to the ground.
He saw writing material and music. Piles of journals stacked on the window still, the dresser, and one on her bed turned to a page that were half-filled. There was an iHome dock on her dresser that held her black iPod nano.
He saw books; so many books that it made the small room almost look like a mini library. On the small black and white nightstand next to her bed were a stack of five books, on the bed were books along with journals scattered all over. Books piled up into stacks on her dresser, and about nine or ten purple bins stuffed with books crowding the floor. She had a pretty impressive collection. There were Pride and Prejudice, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, Jane Eyre, The Catcher in the Rye, Little Women, Wuthering Heights, The Phantom of the Opera, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, a tattered-cover paperback version of Great Expectations, Catch-22, and 1984. And that was just her classic collection that was stacked in piles. The modern books were the ones stuffed in her bins. Everything from the Harry Potter series, The Hobbit, The Book Thief and Before I Fall to The Outsiders, The Hunger Games series and Beautiful Creatures to Divergent and a series called Perfect Chemistry. Every book written by Sarah Dessen, James Patterson (mysteries though) and John Green, and, to Troy's amazement, the complete series of Vampire Academy.
The walls were bare of color but every inch of them was covered with posters and collages. Posters and collages of Michael Jackson, Paula Abdul, Janet Jackson, Shakira, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and Naya Rivera. A collage of a young woman doing every dance created from ballet and modern to jazz and hip-hop. There were some posters and quotes from books, too. Three posters from the Divergent series, four from the Hunger Games, and there were two he didn't recognize featuring a black-haired, pale-skinned girl with her face covered dressed in beautiful gowns.
On the closet door were three posters. One of Michael Jackson in the center, a close-up portfolio from his Bad music video, his dark eyes hooded and somber. To his left was one of a young Britney Spears taken from her earlier years. Dressed in a stomach-baring purple top and jean shorts, her hair a mix of dark blond and light brown, leaning against a pole. To his right a poster of Shakira looking fierce with those dark eyes of hers. Behind the door was a big, and he meant big, poster of Johnny Depp.
He saw Disney. More specifically, he saw Disney dolls on her dresser, which was used as some sort of display case. Leaning against the mirror and standing tall there was Princess Jasmine with Aladdin, Belle with the Beast, Mulan with Shaung and a tiny plush Mushu, the girl from Hercules with Hercules, Pocahontas and John Smith, and the gypsy girl from the hunchback movie with the blonde solider and the hunchback by her side. She was standing front center.
Of all the things in the world, he never-not a million, billion years-would he peg Gabriella Montez as a Disney girl. Yet there they were, Disney Princesses with their love interest and friends smiling their frozen-bright smiles at Troy.
Well I'll be damned, he thought, taking the room in. It wasn't a thing like he imagined. Well, other than the mess, it was hard to believe that room really belonged to Gabriella. It was as if having two different pieces that somehow belonged to the same puzzle.
Told you you'd find some answers behind the door, his evil side said.
Ordinarily Troy would tell that side to stuff it with the smugness. However he couldn't deny that his evil side had a right to be smug right now. He was right after all. Troy did learn some things about Gabriella.
He learned she was a slob, though he didn't judge her for it. He learned that she really did love to read. She was a fan of Deep, Spears, Shakira, MJ, a girl whose character was very similar to Gabriella, and two famous dancing women he had a good feeling were her dancing inspirations. She was a writer. She was a Disney girl-
And a Victoria Secret's shopper, his evil side jumped in, cutting off Troy's train of thought. Bra at three o'clock.
What? Troy turned his gaze to the given direction and felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he saw it.
A bra. A Victoria's Secret bra. On the edge of Gabriella's bed, half covered by her violet blanket.
Bolton, his logic side immediately jumped in. Don't you dare! You're on thin ice being in Gabriella's room. If you dare do what I think you're going to do, you're just begging the death angel to murder you.
Damn his logic side for being right, bringing up a valid point. And double damn his evil side for tempting him with such an intoxicating sight.
He'd be a very stupid man if he dared looked. Then again, he'd also be a very stupid man if he turned down this one-in-a-million-chance.
He bit his lip, weighing in his options.
Good God may you help him.
He quickly snatched the bra and brought it close to his face, examining. He could smell the faint scent of jasmine and roses mixed with a hint of vanilla. He couldn't resist breathing in it, feeling intoxicated by the familiar scent.
It was definitely a Victoria Secret's bra. Ivory with black lace trim by the sides. Size 38 C.
Not too small, his evil side remarked. Not too big. Just the perfect size.
Indeed, Troy agreed, inhaling another whiff of jasmine and roses.
He closed his eyes, and his mind played a scene. Of Gabriella slowly walking toward in nothing but a button-up shirt that hung on her body. Slowly she straddled his hips and, with a devilish smirk on her lips and in her eyes, undid each button. Painful slow to torture her. One button, he saw bare skin. Two buttons he saw the bra. Three buttons she had on nothing but the bra. Four buttons-
"Should I leave you two alone so you can get more acquainted?"
Dear God, no!
Slowly he turned his head open. Gabriella leaned against her door-frame, her arms folded, left eyebrow arched.
Shit!
"Um…this isn't what it looks like." He realized how stupid he both looked and pathetic as he finished the sentence.
The arched brow rose slightly higher, and Troy wanted nothing more than for the floors to swallow him whole.
"Right," Gabriella drawled after a moment of awkward silence that nearly went on forever. "Mind letting me use my room or would you rather I leave so you can get to second base with my bra?"
It took exactly five long seconds for him to realize he was still holding her bra. His face flushed as he dropped it.
"Um…I…it...Bye-bye." Giving a weak wave, Troy made a speedy exit.
Good God. Good God. Good God. Why, someone please tell him, did he have to make a complete ass of himself around her? It was as if fate enjoyed his humiliation.
His logic and evil side were no help either. They were busy laughing themselves to death.
He had no idea how long Gabriella was going to be in her room. Nevertheless he was determined not to make an ass of himself again.
His opinions were to take a seat on the couch and wait patiently. Finish reading Great Expectations for English class so he could start the twelve-page paper that was due in two days. Or-
His eyes landed on the pictures posted on top and around the TV case. There were a dozen or so pictures. Most of Paco, a majority of him smiling or laughing into the camera. There was two of them a few days old and tiny, clad in a diaper, smiling with one hand in his mouth and the other reaching for the camera.
There was three of a tall, dark-haired man. One was of him somber while there were two when he had a smile. In one he had a small smile on the corner of his lip as he looked down at the pretty Latina entangled in his arms, his eyes lit with warmth and care. In the other picture, his smile was wide and free as he lifted a laughing Paco over his head, grinning at the baby.
There was four of the pretty Latina the man was hugging. Another one of them, their foreheads pressed against one another, smiles on their faces as if they were perfectly content. One of her at a party, dressed in a fluttery light purple dress, giving a coy wink over her shoulder. One of her at the beach, tanning in a white and black number. The last was of her carrying Paco in her arms, brushing his hair back, smiling down at him.
There was a family portrait of them, taken at the park, the photographer most likely a fellow parent who decided to help them capture the moment. In the picture Paco was the only one looking into the camera with his signature smile while the girl threw her head back, her mouth open wide to let out a laugh, and the young man with an equally big smile on his face as he looked at her.
The picture was nowhere near as perfect as the wildly-expensive, professionally-done portraits his mother had done for the Bolton family. It was so ordinary, almost plain in comparison. And, yet, Troy saw the picture was perfect in its own way. It was the perfect picture of family: genuine and happy, showing the love they had for one another was unconditional.
There was only two of Gabriella. One of her at the park with Paco, flying him over her head like he was an airplane, smiling into the baby's laughing face. The other was of her as a kid.
The bright, warm smile that graced her lips and nearly resembled her nephew's threw Troy off guard. She looked to be either six or seven, at some sort of amusement park. Troy guessed it had to be Halloween during the time because she was dressed as a zombie ballerina and the boy next to her, with his arms wrapped around her, was dressed as the Hulk. He looked to be about thirteen or so.
Troy looked at the bright, smiling girl in the picture and thought about the hard, seemingly cold woman whom nearly kicked his ass in. The same woman who had demons she tried to keep at bay with her thick walls. He wondered what happened to that little girl.
"What the hell is it with you and gawking?"
Oh dear God. No, no, no. Slowly he turned around, and, sure enough, Gabriella was right there.
"I wasn't…I was just…" He realized he was rambling, which was only making things worse for him. "You look so happy. In the picture."
Any warmth he saw from earlier was gone. The loving aunt vanished and the stone-hard queen was back on her throne. The walls he had broken were back, thick with steel and iron, embedded with razor-like thrones. The cold, dark glare in her eyes the walls' knights armed with swords and spears, ready to cut him down.
"Gabriella, I-"
"What the hell do you want, Bolton!" she demanded.
"I just…I just wanted you to know that I know you're innocent. And I'm going to prove it."
"Well, thank you, Sherlock Holmes," she interrupted, and jerked her head toward the door. "Have a nice day. Don't come back."
You can do this, Bolton. You can do this."I also wanted to apologize."
"For what?"
"For being an ass. Repeatedly. For being a really big ass." Jesus. How was it that words that seemed decent in his head always sounded wrong whenever they were spoken out loud? "And…"
Gabriella was silent as she crossed her arms and glared at him.
"And…"
Kissing her, his logic side suggested. That was a slimy move, Bolton.
Logic was right. Kissing Gabriella after breaking her was a pretty slimy move. The kind an asshole would do, taking to turn vulnerability into an advantage.
That definitely would be something he needed to apologize her except there was one problem. He honestly wasn't sure if he was sorry for the kiss. Being sorry would mean he regretting fulfilling a dream that's been on his mind since she walked into homeroom last October. Regretting feeling the softness of her lips against his, her incredible taste he knew he'd never get enough of, and the heat that turned him inside out.
Of all the things he was sorry for, kissing Gabriella wasn't one of them.
"And I'm really sorry that I broke you. I opened up wounds I had no business of opening, and made you cry-"
She silenced him, but not with words or her hands. She silenced him with her eyes. Her eyes that darkened frighteningly that shut the words just as effective as words.
"Get. Out." she said. She had spoken the words so softly; it was hard to hear her. Yet, they were packed with chilling venom that was heard loud and clear.
"Gabriella-"
"Get out!"
"I just wanted-"
"Get the fuck out!" Her voice was less than a notch away from a full scream. He could tell she was trying to gain control for the sake of Paco, who was sleeping away in his crib a few doors down.
"No."
Gabriella stared at him, one, two, and three. Three seconds, four. Then threw in a punch that nearly shattered his right shoulder bone.
Son of a goddamn FUCKING bitch, thought Troy, of the pain that was harder than solid bricks. He bit his lip hard, placing a hand over the bruised shoulder, trying not to think too much of the pain as he slowly breathed.
"Okay," he breathed out. "I probably deserved that."
She socked him in the other shoulder. Twice as hard.
God-fucking damnit! "Okay," Troy said, placing his other hand on the new injured shoulder. "I probably deserve that one, too."
Gabriella glanced down at his lower abdomen that was exposed. Following her eyes, Troy glanced down, and quickly covered himself, stepping three steps back.
"Look I know I'm not your favorite person in the world. I know you'd like nothing more than to beat me like a piñata but…" He looked over at his backpack lying underneath the coffee table. He remembered the notes he had taken down for Creative Literature and ideas for the project. "We still have our project to work on."
Really? Evil asked him while logic sighed. That's all you got?
Shut up! Troy focused his attention on Gabriella and her fiery eyes that could make a grown man piss in his pants by their powerful gaze. I know what I'm doing.
I hope.
He swallowed down a nervous lump wedged in his throat and carried on, "Either you let me stay so we can work on the project or I can go to Mr. Cummings' office tomorrow and inform him that my partner isn't pulling her weight. That would be a real shame since that project is worth a lot for our final grade, and he has a reputation for failing students that don't work on group assignments."
To anyone else, a slacker most definitely, they wouldn't acknowledge his threat. They would call it bluff, one a slacker most definitely would shrug off, giving him permission to have at it.
Gabriella wasn't anyone else, though. She most definitely wasn't a slacker. Troy had seen the number of classical fiction, historical fiction, and science fiction books she had in her room. He had seen, when he was close enough, the homework assignments that always had an A+ plastered on the top right and the papers and assignments in her room that all had hundred on them. The girl may not care for school and teachers, but she definitely cared about education. About learning. About her grades. It was one of the few things in life she could control.
She stepped forward. For the sake of caution, Troy kept his hands in front of his abdomen in case she was ready to strike. But Gabriella wasn't striking. She was glaring, glaring hard for a long time until any bravery or bit of confidence Troy had was shredded.
"You're a real dick," she told him. "You know that?"
She didn't wait for Troy to reply. She headed back to her room and slammed the door.
Damn.
Well, he tried. It didn't go well as he had hoped. Her hatred of him had clearly increased due to this visit. But at least he tried, which was something.
Or so he told himself as he gathered his things and walked over to the door.
"Bolton!"
Troy turned around. He then thanked God for his basketball reflexes as he caught hold of the flying object Gabriella had threw at him before it hit his head.
It was a DVD. The case was colored in different shades of red with words Carmen written in golden-yellow above an attractive dark-haired woman in a revealing low-cut dress.
Confused, Troy looked up at the Gabriella. But she was already moving into the kitchen, taking the half-eaten pizza box with her.
"I assume you know to work a DVD player." she said.
What? Troy watched Gabriella as she piled the remaining slices onto a plate she placed inside the white-faded-to-yellow microwave. Once the timer was set and the pizza was cooking, she moved onto the fridge.
"Okay, I'm confused." Troy admitted.
Gabriella snorted, not bothering with herself to look back. "It's not rocket science, numbskull. Click the power button on the DVD player and wait for the red light. When you see red, click the open-slash-close button. Place DVD in slot, press the button, and, presto, you're watching a movie. Easy as A, B, C."
"I don't mean the DVD. I mean the movie." Troy clarified.
Gabriella sighed. This time she turned around to meet Troy's confused gaze. "If we want to do really well on the project, then we need to understand our characters. On YouTube, there are tons of versions of the play posted. But when I found out, it was made into a movie; I thought it would be interesting for us to watch."
Troy looked at her, then back at the DVD, and nodded. By time Gabriella came back to the living room, Troy was seated on the couch, his binder turned open to a fresh page, the disc inside playing.
Gabriella came back with the heated pizza she placed on the coffee table, along with a bag of Tostitos, and sodas. Coke for him, Dr. Pepper for her. She joined him on the couch, keeping a good amount of distance between them. Troy had feeling it was so there was no chance of accidental brushing against skin.
"Is this movie entirely in Spanish?" Troy noticed how most of the previews were in Spanish and only one offered subtitles.
"There are subtitles." Gabriella shrugged.
Before the movie started, Gabriella gave him a warning. "Keep in mind that movies aren't exactly accurate all the time when they come from a book or play. This movie is a good example. There are parts that aren't in the play that the director threw in to spice things up. Just study Don Jose and see how he developed."
She selected English subtitles, and then pressed play. The two sat in silence as the movie began.
Gabriella was right. There parts of the movie that weren't in the play. For example, the narrator who had a glimpse of Carmen's dark web and visited Don Jose before his sentenced execution, getting his version of the story. Carmen's husband, who was nasty-looking and a big bully. There were also the sex scenes-quite a lot of sex scenes, along with nudity- that made him bush
Other than that, Troy did find the movie interesting. And in some ways familiar. Don Jose in a lot of ways reminded Troy of himself. Troy was Jack's perfect solider, taking orders and hits without hesitation or question. Then came in a bewitching gypsy who made him change the rules. Who toyed with him. Taunted him. Haunted his thoughts.
Gabriella was practically Carmen's twin. Though she wasn't quite as open of her sexuality, she was very much like the gypsy. She wasn't afraid to strike anyone if they crossed her. She was cold and often harsh. She was unpredictable. She was seductive. She could easily and did so easily unravel him the exact way Carmen did with Don Jose: by simply looking at him with those dark, bewitching eyes or paralyze him with her lips curled into an amused smirk.
"Wow." Troy murmured as the ending credits rolled. The pizza was gone, there was a pile of crumbs left in the chips' bag, and they both had gotten three refills of soda. His mind was fixated on the ending, where the narrator asked Don Jose if he had a chance to go back, go back to time when Carmen was nothing to him, would he. Don Jose had answered no without any hesitation. "And I thought Titanic had a bittersweet ending to it."
Gabriella shrugged, switching off the TV.
"I feel horrible for Don Jose." he confessed.
She didn't look at him, but he could tell he had her attention. "May I ask why?"
"Well, because, he made a lot of sacrifices. His position, his job, his old life. He gave them all up just so he could be with Carmen. She pretty much spits in his face and say she wants nothing to do with him."
The arched brow rose slightly higher. Her eyes narrowed. "So you're saying that it's all Carmen's fault?"
"Well…yeah." Troy took a moment to think carefully on his answer. "She corrupted him."
"Corrupted him?" Gabriella repeated. She snorted, shaking her head. "Bullshit."
"What part?"
"All of it." She got up from the couch, gathered all the trash and dishes, and walked into the kitchen to dispose of them.
"Why is it bullshit?" Troy asked her.
"Because it is," She didn't join him on the couch when she came back. Instead she leaned against the wall, watching Troy as he watched her. "That's the typical comment an all-macho, anti-feminist would say who believe that the downfall of every man is a woman."
"Well, there was Lady Macbeth." Troy threw in.
"Did she tell him to kill everyone, including his friend, after the king."
Good point. "Well it depends on how you look it. For example, what did you think of the movie?"
"Bullshit."
That seems to be her word of the day, thought Troy, as he asked her. "Why?"
"You can't be serious," She didn't wait for him to reply. She marched right on. "The only the director got right was plot. An obedient solider falls for a fiery gypsy and the relationship ends in tragic. Her feelings for him toned down when he starts to get possessive of her. But they pretty much screw up everything else. Even the death scene. Carmen didn't want to die. Don Jose stabs her out of jealously and angry because he's not enough for her. Because he can't get it into his mind what he wants and she wants are two completely things. What made him really pissed off, though, was how they completely degraded Carmen's character. She's a strong, independent woman. The movie made her into a complete whore who does nothing but spread her legs."
Wow. Just. Wow. Troy stared her in awe, unsure how to process her words, the passion that spilled from her lips as every word came out. "She's a favorite of yours, isn't she?"
"One of my favorites." Gabriella glanced down at her nails, which were apparently more interesting to look at than Troy's face.
"Well, you can always try looking at the positives," he suggested. "I agree with you that the movie wasn't exactly accurate, but there were interesting points I think the director was trying to make."
"Such as?"
"Well," Looks like that's becoming my word of the day. Troy rubbed the nape of his neck as he thought about it. "Maybe Carmen wasn't much of a problem. Or a fault. Maybe all of it can be blamed on power."
"Power?" Gabriella raised her eyebrow.
Troy quickly explained. "Think about it. You said so yourself that Don Jose is a follower, not a leader. He didn't have much experience with anything, much less control, other than following orders and being a good solider. That's his only power: being perfect. Carmen shows up, and there's a shift in power. She seduces him. She bewitched him. His fascination of her turned to want. Want turned to need. He became a slave to the all consuming, wanting emotions that wouldn't leave him alone."
Answer me this question, Troy, asked Logic. Why am I getting a good feeling you're not just talking about Don Jose?
Are you trying to say something? Evil asked.
Troy couldn't think of a response. He was busy sitting still on the couch, resisting the urge to rub his neck, and trying to play it cool as his cheeks flamed. He lowered his gaze to the ground as Gabriella studied him, unable to handle her steady gaze that increased the temperature of his cheeks.
As soon as his cheeks reduced from burning to warm, he looked back up. Gabriella's face was unreadable as she continued to study him. A second later, her expressionless face was chipped a bit by the appearance of a small smirk hanging on the corner of her lips.
"So you're saying Carmen had control of Don Jose? That she had the power?" For the first time since they left Paco alone, she looked amused.
"Yes," Troy blurted out and instantly wanted to take it back. He wanted to cover his mouth with his hands, tapes, and gags to keep more unnecessary blurs out. But he didn't need to make more of an ass of himself.
"You really seem to show some sympathy for the solider-boy, Bolton."
Troy tried to appear casual as he shrugged, though his red cheeks weren't helping the façade. "You can't help but pity him. He wanted nothing more than to be perfect. He wanted to be the best. Then Carmen turns his world upside down. Despite the trouble that radiates from her, despite her reputation as a heartbreaker, despite the fact she could get in the way of his goals, he can't escape her. He can't forget about her. He can't forget her hair, her smirk, her face. It's like his heart won't allow it."
His words were met with silence. For a second he was sure Gabriella was nodding off his words, half-listening, half-sleeping. To his surprise she was awake and listened to every word.
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience, Bolton." she said.
He ducked his eyes as he blushed. He knew, without looking at her, that her smirk fully spread across her face. When his eyes were met by her bare legs that were suddenly in front of him, he had no other opinion but to look up.
"Tell me more." Gabriella demanded.
"I-" His words died in his throat as she undid her up-do, releasing the raven locks that fell down her back like black liquid waves. He felt like he was back in his dreams.
"Well?" She sat down on his lap. Troy could already feel a boner starting. "Would you say that the girl who has complete control over you is a gypsy?"
In his head, a battle was going on, with logic and evil as the opposing sides. Logic was warming him to be cautious, to watch him his words carefully. Evil had a different idea. Evil was yelling at him to screw words and get it on already, reminding him there was a chance he wouldn't get an opportunity like that again.
Troy wasn't an idiot. Well, at least not completely. He remembered what happened the last time he went too far with his words. Where those words led to. His teeth on the left side still ached whenever he brushed his teeth.
But it was hard to think straight when Gabriella was so close to him, intoxicating him with roses and honeysuckle.
With a hint of vanilla, he reminded himself, his mind slowly going out of focus.
"Well?" she asked. "Is she a gypsy?"
"No," he shook his head. He didn't realize how close he was to her until he felt strands of her hair brushing against his cheek. "She's not a gypsy. Not entirely."
He gazed at her face and wondered how it was possible someone could be so beautiful.
"An ET."
She kissed him.
And his whole world exploded in fire.
The heat, the fire it all came back to him. Stronger than before. He felt his mind was wiped completely, free of thoughts of Michael, his dad, perfection. All his demons were being burnt to crisps in the fire while he was engulfed in the flames, not exactly dying but burning him in a way that reminded of him rebirth.
More. More. More.
Just when the fire had reached its peak, just when he was sure he was close to the breaking point, Gabriella pulled away from him.
NO! His body screamed. No.
It took him a full minute to catch his breath. It took twice as long for his mind to come back to planet. It took nearly forever for the dizzying haze sensation to fade.
"Wow." he softly gasped. He then remembered what came after the kiss.
He looked up at Gabriella. Her face was unreadable. He couldn't tell whether it was a good sign or a foreshadowing of something bad in the near future.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have-"
"Open your mouth."
"Wait-what?"
"Open," she leaned in closer. "your mouth."
Hesitantly, wondering if he was being puked, Troy opened his mouth.
Gabriella pulled him back in.
His heart did fifty back-flips, front-flips, and cartwheels, completing ten loops as his tongue met hers.
As much as they touched, boundaries and self-control were thrown out the window. No restraints. Desperation and hunger were the ways of the game. Passion unleashed, eager and hot. Urgent and intense, so brutal it was painful.
In the most delicious way.
He couldn't keep his hands off her. They were everywhere. Her hair, her neck, up and down her arms, her face.
Gabriella pulled back momentary to remove his shirt. Any other time he'd be embarrassed being shirtless in Gabriella's presence. Now he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when he was kissing her. Not when he was caught in intoxicating haze of her lips, her skin, her tongue.
Good God, her tongue. Sweet, pure, holy Mother Mary, her tongue.
He didn't realize how caught up they were in the kisses until he found himself hovering over Gabriella's body that was laid across the couch.
Their lips were doing an action too passionate for kissing. Too raw and wild for such an innocent term. They were doing a tango. They were at war.
One neither of them wanted to lose. Yet at the same time neither of them wanted to end.
"Gabriella," he breathed, pulling back just a bit for the sake of his lungs.
"Don't talk." she demanded before reeling him back in. He was powerless to resist her.
He kissed her in ways he didn't think he had in him. Ways he only knew existed in movies and trashy romance novels. Passionately. Urgently. Hungrily.
As if he was starving and she was the last piece of food in the world.
As if she were sweet oxygen and he needed her to breathe again.
As if the end were near and this was how he chose to live his final moments. Kissing her. Showing her how much he cared. Pouring everything he had in him to show her how much she meant to him.
Gabriella responded to every single of his kisses with deep, addicting, passion that sunk Troy deeper and deeper into the sea of fire.
Deeper and deeper until he was sure he was at the bottom of the sea.
"WHAT THE GODDAMN HELL AM I SEEING!?"
They quickly separated. Troy was wheezing madly like he ran twenty times up and down those stairs. Gabriella was silent as she sat up, brushing back her hair from her eyes, folding her arms against her chest.
Glad one of us has great lung capacity, he thought a bit envious, still wheezing. The silence of the room made his wheezing bounce off the walls like loud echoes.
When he was able to catch his breath and gained the tiniest bit of courage, Troy looked up. Instantly the wheezing was knocked out by the deadly, bone-chilling glare of the man's eyes.
Troy recognized him as the young man from the pictures. He was much taller in person. Possibly even taller than Troy. He looked to be 6'5 or 6'6. He was dressed in a mechanic's jumpsuit, smears of oil splashed on his clothes and on his cheek. Up close Troy could see how similar his features were to Gabriella's. Same jet-black hair, with his longish and slick back with some loose strands falling into his eyes. Same dark, nearly black eyes. He looked to be a mixture of both Hispanic and Native American heritage.
Troy had to guess that this was her brother. The half-brother she told him about.
The half-brother who walked in on some guy and his little sister making out in his apartment. With him shirtless. With him on top of his sister.
The half-brother whose black eyes bore holes into Troy, killing him in a thousand and ten different ways with their malicious, murdering intensity.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fucking fuckdity fuck.
"Me estas jodiendo?" he asked Gabriella, who was unmoved by the dark fury storming in his eyes "Me estas jugando una maldita broma! Yo, llego a la casa después de una mierda de día, para encontrar a mi hermana casi teniendo sexo en el sofá y a mi hijo dormido a tres puertas de distancia?"
Gabriella responded in a dry, flat voice. "Si, Javier, yo soy una gran puta. Casi ni puedo cerrar las piernas. Mi fuego interior de latina esta rogando ser liberado."
"Es mejor que cuides lo que dices antes de que yo-"
"De que tu qué?" Gabriella responded with a sharp glare. "Me pegues otra vez? De qué me compares con María? Qué me digas que toda la mierda que dices la tenga que tomar como la ley? Bueno pues déjame decirte algo. Te puedes meter un palo por tu ano e irte al infierno."
"Um?" Troy intervened, hesitantly raising his hand. He flinched, getting a handful of glaring from both the Latina and the Latino. Once he realized he still had his hand up, he put it down. Rubbing his neck, he said sheepishly "I don't speak Spanish."
Gabriella snorted, shaking her head. The mechanic/Gabriella's brother/Troy's possible killer stared at Troy as if he were the most idiotic being in the world.
"We're trying to have a private conversation here, dumbass." he told him as he glared at Gabriella.
Gabriella didn't acknowledge either of them. She was focusing on her nails.
Troy knew he'd be jackass if he let Gabriella take all the blame. "We weren't doing anything crazy," He gestured toward his opened binders, its pages filled with notes from the movie. "We were just doing homework."
Her brother didn't glance at the books. "For what class?" he asked. "French?"
Troy blushed beet red.
Gabriella snorted again, a bit louder this time, redirecting the attention back to her. "Cálmate Javier, antes de que te de un aneurisma del estrés. No pasó nada, okay? Nada. Solo nos estábamos besando."
"Si claro, estaban mas bien haciendo el amor con ropa. Si hubiera entrado dos minutos después estoy seguro que él se estaría quitando los pantalones y tu estarías en cuatro lamiéndole el pene."
Gabriella snorted again, looking both annoyed and somewhat amused. "No seas tan dramático."
"If I just threw in my two cents here," Troy interrupted. He was quickly silenced by the ice-cold look in Javier's eyes.
"Quiero que se vaya." he told Gabriella. "Ya."
He gave Troy a look so dark, so chilling it put Jack's glares to shame. He then left without another word.
Troy took his depature and Gabriella's silence as his cue to leave. Mumbling apologies under his breath, he stuffed his things into his backpack and speeded to the door.
"Bolton," He paused momentarily to look over Gabriella. She pointed toward a discarded item. "Forgetting something?"
He followed her finger. His shirt lay in a crumpled heap near the couch.
Oh, dear God.
Troy quickly dropped his stuff, grabbed his shirt, and threw it on. He was sure he was wearing it inside out, but he'd have to deal with. He didn't want to stick around long to risk a second match with Gabriella's brother's wrath.
He had a good feeling he wouldn't survive round two.
Gabriella, to his surprised, escorted him, to the door. Outside the two of them just stood in front of the door, one fidgeting as he tried to figure out his next move, the other lost in her train of thought.
Troy spared a glance over at Gabriella. Her shirt was messed up and the left sleeve was pulled down, exposing a good amount of skin. Her hair was tousles, courtesy of his touchy hands. Her lips were bare and red from too many kisses.
Not bad, Bolton. For once evil was complimenting him instead of insulting.
Troy clamped his lips to keep the automatic 'Shut up' response in. The last thing he needed was to make things worse for himself.
"Gabriella?" When she looked up at him with those smoldering, beautiful browns, it was hard for Troy to remember where he was going with his conversation.
"What do you want, Bolton?" she asked.
At the moment three things came to mind.
He wanted to make things right with her brother. Wanted to explain he didn't mean any disrespect.
He wanted to put back that beautiful smile from earlier that lit up her face.
He wanted to kiss her again. And again and again.
"I-" Gabriella cut him off.
"Don't," she said. "Just don't, Bolton."
"I just-"
"Don't." she repeated and went back inside.
His heart cracked around the edges as he watched her go. Those cracks ached in a slow, painful throb as the door shut quietly behind her.
First off a very gracious shout out to Isarodas10 for the Spanish translations. You rock. And to my readers, consider this VERY long chapter as a belated Valentine's day's gift. To my ET readers, you guys rock and I can only hope that next chapter won't be so long or take forever to update.
Peace out