Chapter 03

I could see the bright day sky and my favorite yogurt shop almost in arms reach. My Audi parked in place and my favorite non-fat organic soymilk frozen yogurt awaits inside. The Californian sun was always torture but at least it was all just dry heat.

I could almost push the door open and get to the counter before my eyes shot open to the view of my ceiling fan. Oh how I want to be back in that dream again. I closed my eyes again and tried to fall asleep to dream the same dream. But of course, this never works.

When I first left Albuquerque, I used to have dreams being back here in my room and in a boy's arms. Not just the arms of any boy, but the arms of Troy Bolton. Leaving Albuquerque was hard for many reasons and nine of the ten reasons involved a boy named Troy Bolton. It was in this very bed that I laid in the arms of Troy Bolton, in the arms of my first friend, first love, and my only memorable neighbor.

From watching Power Rangers while jumping on my bed to lying here together as teenagers instead of doing homework, we did it all. Suddenly, I thought about him and could feel myself missing his presence. I didn't miss him in the way of a lover, not even as a friend. It was a longing, a longing for a better version of the same setting. The last time I slept in this bed, Troy was here and the memories of this home reminded me of him. It's strange how someone so distant and foreign from you now could have mattered so much in the past.

But missing someone is also such a weak action. We shouldn't need anyone just to survive. From now on, I can only miss things. I miss my car, my gym, and my favorite organic frozen yogurt. I miss my wardrobe that spanned bigger than my childhood bedroom and I missed my Beverly Hills home.

This place is a shithole. It smelled of old wood and burnt beans all the time. Not to mention the excessive use of cinnamon apple candles in the living room. It reeked of tasteless decorations and sometimes I wonder how I could miss this place so much when I first moved to Los Angeles.

A caramel macchiato on ice is exactly what I needed right now. That smooth and sweet taste of caramel plus the creaminess of the milk made my mouth water. Except the closest Starbucks was literally five miles from here. There were barely any franchises or chain stores around here. Maryville town government had a desire to keep the small businesses around instead, giving it a less urban setting from the urban sprawl around us. In theory, it is a good idea. It keeps the small businesses alive and gives the small town of Maryville a homey feel when compared to the bustling city south of us called Albuquerque.

But this was certainly not a good idea when you're craving a caramel macchiato on ice with no form of transportation. My mother had gone out to the store this morning, leaving me here with just my legs and not a single friend.

It all comes back down to what kind of best friend slash manager just leaves their world-famous actress best friend in the middle of fucking no where.

But I have to deal with this for the sake of my career and my sanity—that is if I don't become insane from being trapped here in the hells of cinnamon apple candles.

Since there is no way I can get to my beloved caramel macchiato unless I want to sacrifice my mental health and my legs, I can only compromise and try to make a tasty coffee out of already grounded Folgers coffee in a plastic jar.

I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen with a yawn. My hair is a mess but who the fuck even cares to look at me besides my own mother nowadays. My breath reeks of morning and ten-hour old mouthwash aftertaste as I started pouring in milk and some sugar to make my hillbilly version of a caramel macchiato with Folgers.

This is going to be one hell of a drink made by someone whose been using a Keurig for the past five years. I drank a lot of coffee to stay skinny and minimize my appetite whenever I had to diet but never did I have to make my own.

I didn't even used to drink coffee back when I left this town at seventeen. Busy schedules and demanding diets in Hollywood caused me to start my lovely caffeine addiction.

Addictions caused many issues in Hollywood. From cocaine to alcohol to heroin, I've seen it all. I've seen costars near their death because of a wild night and after-parties fueled with MDMA. When it comes to drugs, I could be an expert without ever even ingesting it.

I sipped on my makeshift caramel macchiato and almost choked at how disgusting it was. Too much milk and not enough sugar.

Looking past the disgusting macchiato I just made, there are certain things about Albuquerque that reminded me of Los Angeles.

The sunlight outside reminded of Los Angeles.

It is bright and dry, the clouds danced on the blues and I could almost feel the heat from looking at the brightness of it all. I needed to step outside and at least feel the Californian heat or else I might just die from drinking this disgusting drink while inhaling the permeant candle scent in the house.

The front porch is always nice and shaded. The heat isn't unbearable but definitely can be a little cooler. At least the weather is the same. Thank the lord I'm not from Canada or Alaska or some place with blocks of ice to shovel in their driveway. There are many things I can't stand—Dasani bottled water, cheap perfume, drugstore makeup, and cold weather. If Los Angeles was located anywhere above forty degrees longitude north, I would absolutely drop my acting career and move to Miami without question.

Enjoying the heat on my skin and the sunny weather distracting me from my negativity, I almost forgot how disgusting this drink was when I neared it towards my lip to take a sip again. Under the sun, I could pretend I was drinking a real macchiato while standing outside my Beverly Hills home.

That was until loud noises of faint shouting completely disturbed my happy place. My attention darted towards my left to find the familiar boy that is now a man, standing outside of his front door as a blond woman stormed out with two large duffle bags.

And there he is, Troy Bolton in his ultimate man form, standing outside of his home shirtless and angry with all those testosterone going. It seriously made my own hormones race out of my body a bit just seeing that sight. I am no longer a hormonal teenage girl who drooled over the Jonas Brothers back in the 2000s. But boy does the sight of a grown blue-eyed Troy Bolton shirtless outside of his home make me travel back in time.

"I will call the cops if you do that again." I can hear him yell after the familiar blonde. I studied the blonde's face as carefully as I could from a distance. I knew her, I had to have known her. She still has the same blond curls as before, the same signature Barbie pink lipstick, and the same strut even as she stormed outside of a home angrily. She is Sharpay Evans— public enemy number one of my adolescence.

I was a quiet girl who read books and minded my own business for the most part. I wasn't good at speaking, just writing and being first in the class. The only person that could ever beat my score in the Scholastic Decathlon was one of my best friends Taylor McKessie. Taylor and I were close friends due to our similar interests in academics and literature. We slowly started merging our friends together to create a group of teenagers that hung out regularly at Dory's Diner. The gang included my best friends Kelsi and Troy, Troy's best friend Chad and Zeke, Taylor's best friends Martha and Jason, and Jason's best friend and also Sharpay's brother Ryan.

Sharpay was the queen of musical theatre and because I beat her one time for the lead role, she started sabotaging all my high school years. Call it immaturity at its finest or high school musical theatre gone too far, or Sharpay Evans being a big fucking bitch. Not only did she egg my car, TP my house, but she also tried to put laxatives in my drink before the opening night for the show. I tolerated it all and minded my own business. That was until the last day I was in Albuquerque when I dumped red paint on her after she got out of her convertible right before school started for the day.

And the rivalry was inevitably paused due to the beginning of my career as an actress.

But like natural animal instinct, my blood started boiling the moment I started thinking about Sharpay Evans. She is just a few tens of feet away from me. I became a world famous actress but she was still stuck in this shitty town. But what is she doing coming out of Troy's house this early in the morning?

"Fine, call the cops on me. I'll just mess my hair up a bit, tear my shirt up and tell him you fucking assaulted me. Let's see who he believes." Sharpay threw the bags in the back of her car that was parked on the curbside of the road.

"I'll tell him you're trespassing." He yelled back at her even louder. There is so much tension but I can't pinpoint whether all this angry tension was good or bad. It is the type of tension that can either result in powerful makeup sex or an ugly split.

"Fuck you, Troy. Don't be an asshole. This is my house too. I'm just trying to get my bags from my house. Can you drop the aggressive tone every time I come by and pick up what's rightfully mine?" Sharpay got inside of the car and started the ignition which caused Troy's words to go to waste under the loud engine. "This is still my house, Troy!"

The rest of their conversation or yelling match was harder to hear with Sharpay's car turned on. I was so interested and drawn to my neighbor's drama that I forgot how visible I was to them as well. When I realized that I, Gabriella Montez, Academy Award winning world famous actress, is standing right out in the open with no makeup on and greasy hair while drinking a cheap cup of coffee stalking my neighbor's love quarrel, it was a tad bit too late. Troy's eyes already connected with mine for what seemed like something shorter than a second, but the reaction it gave me was beyond that one second of brief eye contact. When those blue eyes zapped into the soul of my brown orbs, they sent shivers down my spine and a weak zinger in my legs.

I've been exposed by my neighbor. I've been spotted with my hair unwashed and my makeup-free face. I've been seen looking like a thirsty homeless woman. "Shit." I cursed under my breath and rushed back into my house, slamming the door shut right away. How can I be so stupid? What if the paparazzi already found their way to Albuquerque and was taking pictures right outside? How could I be photographed looking like this? I'm the fucking queen of romance and action movies, not the queen of this town. I didn't belong here, this is not my territory.

Should I be excited that Troy saw me or should I feel embarrassed? I looked like shit out on my porch and how creepy would it be if you found your neighbor watching you outside shirtless while yelling at another woman? Fuck, that sounded too barbaric, of course it wasn't okay at all.

I set my cup of coffee down on the kitchen counter and peaked outside through a window towards Troy's front yard again.

He was walking towards my house as Sharpay drove away. He walked closer and closer and I could hear my heart beat quicker and quicker until he stopped completely. He stood there for a moment, looking up at the second floor and then turned back around towards his own home.

He definitely noticed me, he saw my eyes and I saw his. Most importantly, I saw him with my worst high school enemy—my first enemy of my twenty-six years of life. They had to be married or in a serious relationship to be living together.

Troy Bolton and Sharpay Evans? Is this even real? How the fuck did they even end up together and what is actually happening in this small town? Ever since I left, I haven't kept up with any of them. With my busy schedules and privacy issues, I tried not to use social media too personally. Now I regret not adding my high school friends on Facebook. Had I known this unlikely couple became a real thing, I wouldn't have watched them like an idiot.

And that was when reality crushed me completely, I'm not the only one who has changed, Troy has too. Maybe I was already forgotten, so forgotten and into the forest of oblivion that he married the one person that try to destroy my adolescence.

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