Disclaimer: It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

Author's Note: So, these are unrelated oneshots unless otherwise noted.

Further, for those following along with my other stories, I've started a sequel to Once & Again and All the Right Moves. It's called Slips & Tangles. You can find that story under my profile. Again, this of course means I won't be back to the oneshots until that story is done. So, I hope you enjoy this one in the meantime!

Written November 18, 2006

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HSM Romance Challenge

Theme: Distraction

When she saw him next, he was standing on her front step. He had rung the doorbell and she had answered it, not realizing it was him.

"Hey," she said, first startled, then shy. "I thought we weren't going to see each other…"

"We aren't," he said stiffly. "I'm here to see your mom, actually."

"My… mom?"

But her mother was already there, coming up from behind. "Hi Troy!"

He swept past Gabriella and shook her mom's hand, the both of them going together into the kitchen. She closed the door and walked haltingly to the stairs, half-wanting to go back to studying and ignore him, half-wanting to follow them to find out everything. Instead she wound up frozen on the third step, her hand on the banister, straining to overhear.

"… so the lawn… that's $30 every two weeks…"

"… I do other gardening and trimming too… whatever you need…"

"… okay… okay… that sounds fine…"

And then she scrambled up the stairs as she heard them coming back, Troy bidding her mother a firm goodbye and the door closing behind him.

There was a pause, and then she heard her mother's voice.

"He's just going to be cutting the lawn, Gabi. It'll only be once a week for the whole summer. So… you won't really have to see him."

"Mom… why did you have to pick… him?"

Her mother sighed. "I didn't have much of a choice. It was him or the Farbers' kid. And you know the Farbers' kid… he's just so…"

"No, you were right." Gabriella let out a breath. "It's okay. Troy was the right choice."

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She tried to stay away from the windows when he came to do the lawn the next day.

It was odd, avoiding him like this. She remembered being excited to see him, wanting to see him every moment of every day. Faint traces of the feeling still echoed through her body, but she did her best to shake it off.

It couldn't have lasted, she told herself. She had gotten into the advanced college math classes this summer. She knew she needed to concentrate. But she felt so guilty, spending all her time studying and then just seeing him maybe one night a week—if that.

And then the guilt began to seep into every space in her mind, every fragment of her actions, until she could hardly be with him anymore. She could only think that him being with her was not really being with her at all. It wasn't worth it, seeing her once a week, and even then only for a few hours at a time, before she had to go to bed or get back to studying or class or whatever. And the only way to fix it… was to let him go.

So she did. She said it was unfair to him. And as for her… he was a distraction, and what she needed was clear focus to do well.

He had been angry, and then he had been sad, and he had said, if this is what you want, then okay, that's what he would do. If this is what you really want.

She said yes.

And now she was trying to avoid the windows.

But studying at the desk in her room, the full-length mirror had tilted on its axis, and looking up she caught a flash of him on the edge of the lawn. He sat with his shirt off, staring at the grass in fatigue, his skin as brown as a farm egg.

Immediately she got up and moved the mirror until it was straight, trying to forget what she had seen. This was harder to do than she thought.

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The next week, she kept away from the windows again. But she found herself acting strangely, "accidentally" tilting the mirror until she caught a glimpse of him again. And then, even more strangely, instead of working she watched him cycle in and out of the mirror's range. The flash of brown skin, and his muscular frame pushing the lawnmower, forwards and backwards.

Suddenly she heard the mower cut out sharply. He was out of range of the mirror. Her heart jumping up, she ran to the balcony to see what had happened… and saw him standing near the walk, glancing up at her sudden appearance.

"Hi," she said lamely. "I was just… I heard the mower…"

"I'm almost done," he said. "I'll be gone in a bit."

"No… I'm not trying to rush you. I was just…." Her mind raced. "I was just… going to make some lemonade. I wanted to know if you wanted some too."

"Lemonade?" He looked at her.

Her cheeks were flaming, but she charged ahead anyway. "Yeah, you know. Lemons, water, sugar. Or lemonade mix and water, which is probably more likely. And… ice."

He smiled. "Well… okay."

And with a wave, she found herself back in the house, heading for the stairs, making a jug of lemonade in the kitchen and going out onto the front lawn with a tray. He turned off the mower and carefully walked over to meet her, and she found herself shaking slightly as he came near.

But it was easier than she thought it would be. They sat on the freshly cut lawn in the sunshine, drinking the lemonade and talking lightly. He told her a little about the other lawns he was cutting, and she found herself teasing him about the details: the kitten who chased him on the third lawn, the sprinkler he ran over on the fourth. He laughed good-naturedly and stretched out next to her, and suddenly her mind went blank at the curve of his arms, the shape of his chest. And then he spoke just as her words fell away.

"You know," he said, looking at his glass of lemonade. "Didn't you promise me ice in this drink?"

"Oh." Her tongue felt thick. "I suppose I forgot."

He finished the drink and put the glass down. "Next week, there'd better be ice, Montez."

Next week?

But before she could protest, he was already walking away.

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There was ice the next week. And the next. And even the next. She found herself starting to look forward to him coming over each time, thinking of new things to tell him about her classes, her work. She liked making him laugh, liked the way he laughed, liked the way he made her laugh. This time, she made the lemonade with real lemons as a surprise, and went out on the step early. Maybe he could take a break twice, this time.

But an hour went by and he hadn't turned up yet. And another hour went by and he still hadn't come. She went back to studying, pretending not to notice, but could only half-concentrate. She thought of calling, but it felt awkward—it wouldn't make any sense, it would make their relationship seem deeper than it really was.

Then another hour went by and she stopped being able to focus on studying entirely. And instead she got on her bike, figuring she could go by his place, casually see if he was there, and come home.

He wasn't there. But riding down the block, she suddenly heard the familiar buzz of the mower, and saw him on a different lawn. A strange sense of relief washed over her, but before she could escape notice, she heard the mower cut out.

He waved and she rode closer. "Hey," he said, wiping himself down with the t-shirt he had thrown to the ground. "Aren't you supposed to be studying?"

She put a foot on the sidewalk and looked at him. "Aren't you supposed to be mowing our lawn?"

"I told your mom. The Wilkins's needed their lawn mowed early for a garden party they're having. So I just switched it up."

"Oh," she said, feeling like an idiot. "I guess she didn't tell me."

He looked at her with concern. "But are you okay? What are you doing all the way out here? Did you need something?"

"Well…"

And before she could stop, it came spilling out.

"I just… made the lemonade," she stuttered, her face turning red. "And I waited… and I waited… but I guess I missed you."

There was a sudden softness in his eyes. "You… missed me?"

Saying it again, she felt something tremble and fall inside. "I… missed you."

Then she was suddenly reaching for him, her hands on the warm skin of his shoulders as she leaned up to kiss him. And she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her close, as if he would never let go.

And then suddenly they sprang apart as her bike fell to the ground, and they both laughed until finally he pulled her close and kissed her again. And as he held her tight in his arms, she felt him lean down to whisper in her ear. "I thought you didn't need a distraction," he said.

"I don't," she said softly, resting her head against his chest. "But I guess I've got one anyway."

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Author Note: Um… I kind of got carried away with this one. But oh well, it's all right anyway, I think.