First of all, thanks for such a great turn out of reviews for the first chapter! You all left me such lovely comments, and I know I always say this but they really do make my day guys :)

Just a quick disclaimer for the sake of this chapter: I do NOT own High School Musical; Bridget Jones or Gilmore Girls :)

Here is chapter two. Read on and enjoy!

I resisted the urge to slam the door in horror. Wouldn't have been very polite. Besides, he seemed amused in a sweet sort of way; didn't appear to be mocking me.

"Erm...yeah, sorry about that!" I blurted out, touching one of my hair rollers self-consciously. "I'm Gabriella. Well, Gabi."

The man who had introduced himself as Troy held out his hand to shake mine, which I took with a smile.

"Gabi," he repeated with a grin. "Well, I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but as I said I've just moved in downstairs and the landlord never left me his number...It's sort of urgent that I get in touch with him."

"Anything I can help with?" I offered. A bit too quickly, I must admit.

"Ah, thanks, but...not unless you're a plumber?" he joked.

I think I actually let out a girlish giggle then. Second impression was not shaping up too well here.

"Right, yeah...in that case I'll just grab the number for you," I replied, leaving him at the door while I rushed around hastily, looking for my phone where the landlord's number is stored.

He was more than grateful when I gave him the details he needed. I almost didn't want to say goodbye, despite the disastrous fashion situation.

"You're a life saver, thanks so much!" Troy had told me. "I'd better run. It was nice to meet you properly. I'll see you around, neighbour."

Then he was gone, and I shut the door still thinking about that smile and those eyes.

I'm still thinking about them now, to be honest.

Hmm, I wonder if he'll be driving the bus again tomorrow, given that he's now a local.

Hope so...

.HSM.

So the bus is late today. I have a client booked in for a perm first thing, and I'm still standing here waiting for a bus that may never show.

Why did I never learn to drive? I could have been up and out within seconds instead of relying on public transport.

Oh, yeah. It's because I'm accident prone (though, luckily, not when it comes to cutting hair); and I'm always losing things.

Aha! Here it is!

Can't hide my disappointment. Troy isn't driving the bus today. This is silly of me really. I'm guaranteed to bump into him again. He lives in my building, after all.

What is up with me today? I've only had one real conversation with the man and here I am obsessing over him already.

Right. Work. Must focus on hair now. The customers' hair, obviously – not my own.

.HSM.

Imagine my embarrassment when, after finishing a lady's colour, my manager came over to tell me that my mother had just phoned the salon for me. And it wasn't exactly a thrilling social call.

"Gabi, your mum just rang to remind you about a 'special' dinner party on Friday?" Dani informed me with a curious smile that did not go unnoticed.

At this point, I just rolled my eyes and reluctantly made a mental note to ring mum back when I got home. But apparently that wasn't the end of the message.

"Erm," Dani had added after a pause. "She also said to remind you to make an effort with your appearance if you want to win over all the male attention..."

Arrrgh!

Thank you, mother. Thank you for making me look like the desperate singleton that I secretly am.

Not to mention the delightful comment about how I look. What's wrong with my appearance?

After picking my jaw up off the floor, I still couldn't think how to respond. Luckily for me, Dani has known me for years and I did not need to offer her an explanation for my mother.

I was still mortified, though. And I still hadn't uttered a word.

"Gabs? You okay?"

"Oh! Yeah, yeah..." I finally blurted out; all the while thinking: 'NO! I'm just waiting for the ground to swallow me up!'

"So, going out on the pull on Friday then?" she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"Dani!" I moaned, despite letting out an involuntary giggle because I should have expected this from her. She may be my boss and the salon owner, but we're also really good friends alongside that.

In a sense, she's similar to my mother in that they both encourage me to get on the dating circuit. Danielle is only a year older than me and is happily married, but she still manages to come on nights out every so often. And believe me, she's the first one to push me in the direction of what she calls a 'potential boyfriend'.

Translated that usually means what I like to call a 'drunken flirtatious moron'.

I know not all men are like that; really I do. But I can't just go up to some random guy in a club and start talking to them like Dani seems to think I should.

Even if I am currently thinking up plausible excuses to approach that gorgeous new neighbour with the nice eyes.

But anyway, where was I? Oh right, my interrogation.

"There won't be any 'pulling' of any kind," I told Dani. "It's a party for my dad's company, but you know what my mum's like – she'll probably keep me chatting to every single man in the room for the whole night."

She laughed, then paused in thought. "So go along and be all mysterious - pretend you've already found a man," she announced with a grin.

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "What brought that on? I was expecting you to tell me to mingle and meet someone!"

"Yeah, but this sounds like a bit of an ambush; I reckon you can have some fun with it," she winked at me.

Hmm. Maybe she has a point there...

Anyway, still haven't phoned mum back. Haven't decided what to do about Friday yet, either. Oh well, it's too late to do anything about it now. Maybe I'll just get myself a glass of...ah! Uh oh, it's the phone...

.HSM.

So, despite my thinking that it was already too late to make any calls myself (in a futile attempt to excuse myself for not calling my mother); who should be on the line when I answered the phone but the woman herself?

"Hello dear, it's your mother," was her greeting.

"Um, hi mum. How are you?" Yes, I was stalling here.

Unfortunately she was already cutting straight to the point. "Now then, you are coming to the dinner party on Friday, aren't you? Only I was a bit concerned you hadn't returned my calls. Your father and I thought you'd fallen off the face of the earth!"

No, I thought. I was just avoiding giving you an answer. It's not like I'm approaching thirty and should know better, or anything...

"Oh, did you ring then?" I said aloud, wondering whether I could get away with that. The answer was, I couldn't.

"Now don't be so careless, darling. Don't you check your answering machine?"

Before I could reply, she had moved back to the main topic. "So, we need to sort out what you're going to wear, don't we? Now let's see, do you have a nice dress or something..."

I'm twenty-nine years old! I wanted to wail in despair at her. I can choose my own outfit!

I do love my mother, really I do. It's just that sometimes it seems as though she still thinks I'm about twelve.

And I hadn't even agreed to come to the party yet.

However, it didn't seem like I was going to get a word in edgewise during this particular conversation.

So I thought back to Dani's earlier suggestion and just went with it, before I could stop myself.

Mum had just hit on the subject of my potential 'suitors' when I blurted it out impulsively.

"Actually mum, I've already met a man."

It wasn't a lie though, was it? I mean, I met Troy. He's a man.

"You've met a man? And where was this?" She sounded almost offended that this had happened completely without her knowledge.

"Er, well, he's local, new to the area. It's early days, but I just thought I'd better let you know in case you wonder why I'm not mingling with all the single men."

I was feeling that strange kind of state you get into when you're half proud and half ashamed for lying.

And then I well and truly learnt my lesson.

"Well then, that's marvellous!" exclaimed my mother. "You can bring him along to the party so we can meet him!"

Disaster. Note to self: never lie to your mother; it gets you nowhere. Correction – it lands you in a big mess.

I have now agreed not only to attend the dinner, but also to bring my 'new boyfriend' along too.

I could have said I couldn't come. I could have said that the fake boyfriend was busy. I could have got out of this ridiculous situation in various different ways.

I am a total moron. And I now have two thoughts running through my mind along with a big headache:

I have to come up with a pretend, yet very convincing boyfriend within the next three days, and;

My mother is like both Lorelai Gilmore's and Bridget Jones's mothers rolled into one person.

Now which is the scariest thought here?

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