"The Pianist"
~Chapter Sixteen~
"Are you all right?" Her voice is soft, concerning. Oh, he wishes he could see her face. Then again, he remembers tracing her features with his fingers; running them over her skin, every curve of her face...her scar. It felt...intimate some how. His fingers twitch at the memory and the appendage that is adorned by every male in the village begins to harden once more; damn it!
"Uh.." he clears his throat, Troy Bolton does not get nervous. It's not in his bones to turn to a jelly substance and get nervous..so why is this happening to him now? "I er, heard you were feeling ill." Slap, he should mentally slap himself. That's the best he can do?!
"Oh uhm...y-yes...stomach ache."
"Huh," he says, scoffing a little in both bemuse and amusement. "The servant said...headache."
"That t-too." She stutters, beautiful voice she has. It's like...when he's playing a song on his piano and he let's it take control of him. Seizes him. Idly, he wonders what it'd be like...to let her voice take control of him. Take him, wrapping around him and slaying him like a dragon in a children's book. Inwardly, he sighs and physically he clears his throat.
"May I...come in?" He can feel her looking at him; her shadow is a petite silhouette- which he is beginning to desire more than music. His fingers, which twitch and itch to touch the ivory keys on his piano to feel their smooth, coldness now twitches to feel her skin - warm and soft and supple - his hands leaving goosebumps over her naked body. Swallowing again, he curses his male urge.
"Troy I...I don't think that's-"
"It'll be naught but a moment." He holds out his hand, making sure to slide a pleasant and friendly smile on his face. He can feel how nervous she is. How hesitant. How desirable- what the devil? Shaking his head, he keeps his hand out extended to her. "I want - I wish to speak with you...about what happened...earlier in the-whoa!" the slam of a door, his hand feeling like a snake was gripping tight to it.
"Sh!" She hisses, "I haven't told-I mean, my papa doesn't know about-Why are you laughing?!" Oh, is he laughing aloud?
"I'm sorry...forgive me," he's still laughing, he knows he must stop. "I just-"
"You said you wanted to speak." Her voice is stern. Firm. Gentle, yet still. And attractive. It causes Troy to sober instantly, "Uhm.." what was he about to say to her again? He chuckles awkwardly, his hands beginning to sweat.
"I just..well, about earlier.." where are his words? He's never been in this predicament before, he's never confronted anyone before and yet he felt like it was his- it is- his...duty? Obligation? To come see if she's all right? To see if she is willing to forgive him for earlier? Or maybe it's just to- "Would you accompany me to a ball?" Invite her to Sharpay's ball as his guest. Oi.
Her lips pucker, her brow furrows and she pulls at her long, brown locks of hair that hang in her face; she's taken aback by his request. "Wh...I..a ball?"
"Yes." Troy responds, clearing his throat, if he can see then he'd be staring at her. Right into her eyes. Right now? He can only imagine them. "Sharpay is hosting -"
"Oh," her voice fills with bitterness. Vulnerability? "Uhm..I don't think..I just, my papa might need me."
"Our healer is one of the best. Your father is under great care, I assure you."
"I just...don't think it's a great idea for me to go is all, forgive me." There's something bothering her, he can hear it in her voice and the atmosphere of the chamber changed. There's very little fiery spark.
"Are you all right?" Perhaps she really is ill? He has half the mind and plenty the urge to place his hand on her forehead and cheek just to check for fever...and then slide his hand lower to feel her other body parts. Oh! He must stop this thinking!
"I'm fine." She lies, "I just...I'm not great company at such things-" Boldly, he takes a step forward, does she take a step back? Is she fearing him like his servants apparently do? Damn it, he wishes he can see so greatly!
"Have you ever attended one?" He hears her scoff, he has to fight to hide his amusement. She's nervous, good. It's at least better than him being the only feeling like they could kiss the floor at any second. "Gabriella?"
"Uh," she coughs; clearing her throat and shakes her head- her shadowed silhouette is moving left to right quickly. "I er...we-well..." Troy smirks, taking another bold step forward. He wants to out stretch his hands, but he doesn't want her to get the impression that he'd cage her in. Not when she already accuses him of accusing her father-
"Come with me then." Smooth. Very smooth.
"I-I..."
"I don't take no for an answer, Miss Montez." Biting her lip, Gabriella looks at her feet. Bare and ...plain. Not dirty like they usually are when she walks the dirt floor of her family's small home. "Look at me...please." Holy- did he just say? The thought, just the very thought, that he said 'please' makes her look up at him. Admiring every curve of his face, the soft, fullness of his lips and how his nose seems to form a pointed round tip at the end...his jawline is very regal. There's no doubt that he is over "blue blood".
"Troy, I ...you really want me to go?" Before he can think or say otherwise, "yes, Gabriella, I do." Holy Hell!
"We-well..I supp..I .." why is it considerably warmer? Maybe she should put the fire out? Take the blankets off her bed...has it always been this warm?
"It's in a few days. Sharpay didn't give me a date-" her heart sinks, every time she hears that name, it's clear how the blond feels for him..maybe he feels the same for the blond, and Gabriella won't stand in the way of them.
No matter how painful for her own self.
"Gabriella," Troy says, taking a step closer and then another and then another, pretty soon she's against the doors; her back flat and her chest heaving up and down at the close proximity of the blind heir. "What is wrong?"
"I just...Sharpay seems to like you a lot." Oh, is that all? Troy smirks; trying to hide a laugh. "Don't laugh at me." His attempts fail.
"I'm not laughing," Troy whispers, "I know how she feels about me. She doesn't hide it when she's near."
"Then why aren't you with her?"
"Cause she's an annoying little barnacle who needs to know when to take the hints I send her. I'm not interested." Maybe he should think before he speaks, Gabriella shakes her head but her breath is nearly frozen when Troy leans further in; his nose barely touching hers and his lips...oh my, so close yet so far. She just has to stand on her tip toes and they would be kissing.
"So you're asking me to her ball?"
"Yes."
"What do I wear?"
"I suppose my mother can help you-"
"What about my papa? He's injured. My family? I haven't seen them in a week...I must see them." The concern in her voice is soft, but powerful, it makes Troy swallow nervously as he takes another stop closer, raising his left hand to feel her face again. If she'll let him, that is.
"Are you in front of me, Gabriella?" He asks, he hears her swallow and then her short intake of breath. But she doesn't answer his question, and he doesn't lower his hand. "Gabriella?"
"Yes..." she breathes, slowly, hesitantly, taking his hand and holding it to the right side of her face. The unmarred side.
"Forgive me?" He murmurs, leaning slowly against her forehead, he can't see her; but from her breathing is so heavy, he knows which way to lean. She sighs, wanting to pull away; knowing that she should. She's young, a virgin, and...hasn't been promised to be married to anyone. Yet.
"Troy I-"
"I didn't mean to insult your father, Gabriella." He whispers, raising his left hand to caress the marred side of her face, she backs up so that her back is against the door...or is the wall? No, this is round-
"Don't run away from me...please..." his voice is soft, almost like a plead.
She shakes her head, he can feel her cheek against his palm; rubbing quickly, and her hair slapping gently at his skin. "I'm sorry..." she whispers, "I...I didn't mean to over-react-"
"You had every right too." He says, his voice still that low, sultry, sexy whisper.
"No," she whispers, why? She doesn't know, but she finds it hard to look else but Troy's eyes. Blind as they may be, they are a beautiful blue. Swallowing, she raises her hands, she closes them on either side of his face. His skin is smooth beneath her touch; warm, soft yet firm, and flawless. Her stomach curls temporarily with envy because she doesn't have the luxury of looking like he does. Flawless. She trails her fingers down his cheeks, over his nose, and tracing his lips...those seem softer than his face. "How did you go blind?" She asks in a whisper, if he wasn't blind, she'd be sure that he'd be looking at her.
"My story is not of any sort of importance," he says before he can stop himself; his hands sliding down her cheeks, down to her hips. Pulling her flush against himself and leaning his face into her shoulders. Breathing her scent. "Mm. You bathed since earlier."
Why does she find those words amusing? Smiling, she doesn't stop her hands from going to his head and running her fingers through his hair; pulling at the tie holding it back until it falls and hits his shoulders. Her asked question tossed to the wind, his hands sliding up and down on her sides; creating a friction that stirs something deep with in her. Her fingers dragging themselves through his hair feels like the best heaven he's ever experienced- and when he had sight he had a lot of "heaven" to experience, but he'd trade it all just to spend the rest of the night with this woman right here.
His lips softly kissing the flesh of her neck makes her moan, making her lean her head back for him; cradle his head ahead against her so that he doesn't pull away and demand that she disappears- no, she thinks, he wouldn't do that. He came into my room...for what reason? "Troy..." she asks, his name breathy on her lips as it tumbles off her tongue. He doesn't respond with anything but kisses, clearing her throat, she stops what her fingers are doing and puts her hands on his shoulders to push him away. "Troy."
He doesn't pull away, he doesn't oblige to her hands pushing him; he holds her close and continues to nibble at her flesh. "Hm..." is the only thing she gets out of him besides those blessed kisses.
"Why...oh"-his kisses are the most hypnotizing thing that she's ever- the only thing she's ever -experienced when it comes to intimacy with a man. No, she must remain focused on her words; what is it she is going to say? "Why...why..." what are her words? She leans her head back mechanically to give this man who is holding her as passionately as a lover would more flesh of her neck to nuzzle, nip, and kiss- "Why did you come into my room?" Those are her words!
Her words which causes him to stop his passionate nipping and lift his head slightly, his blue eyes are beautiful; even blind and inquisitive, they're beautiful. She lifts her head back to it's righted position, staring into those eyes and wondering what is in his brain at this moment-
"To ask you for forgiveness." He says, "for what happened..." in the bath. When he assumed- and accused -her father of being responsible for what happened to her as a child.
"Troy-"
"To ask you to accompany me to Sharpay's ball."
Her heart flutters, and soon his left hand vanishes from her side only to feel her face again to find and trace her lips. Insecurities was through her, "and to do this.." before she says anything, his lips follow along the trails of his fingers, touching her lips. Softly at first, but their assault grows harder; fiercer. His right hand grips her hips tighter, pulling her flush against him once more until there's not a nick of space between them. Her breath is caught in the back of her throat as she finds the wanton in her; returning his kiss and cradling his head at the neck to hold him to her.
It's bliss, blissfully lovely. If she didn't know what heaven was before all this, she believes that she has just died and stumbled upon it.
Days. That's how long it's been exactly since Gregor has been gone, it's been longer since Gabriella has been gone. Her head is aching, her cough is worse and the other children suspect that their mama is sick- or weak. Marina hates lying to her children, but she finds that when a parent is ill, it's necessary to lie. "I'm fine,", "It'll be gone by morrow." or "it's nothing, love, go about your chores or go play with your brothers and sisters...it'll pass." All common excuses that she herself uses to calm her children when she starts getting into a coughing fit. Her body gets weak, her head swims and her vision blurs. She knows she should lie down to rest when she feels all those happening to her, but she also knows that she can't...she has to strong and to be that she has to be up on her feet taking care of her children.
"Sophia!" She calls and an eight year old runs over to her from the small room that she shares with her brothers and sisters. Gabriella's the oldest, Sophia's after her, so when Gabriella marries and lives with her new husband, Sophia gets her room.
"Yes, mama?" she asks, her face a mask of concern. Marina coughs again, covering her mouth and gripping the wooden table with her hand to keep from losing her balance. "Mama, are you okay? Your pale..." the young girl goes over to her, grasping her arm and using as much of her little self to hold up her mama.
"I'm fin"- cough -"I just need to.." -cough -"to rest..." Sophia nods, helping Marina to her's and Gregor's bed; removing the covers and then replacing them when her mama is lying on the straw.
"I can cook mama, I'll take care of the baby too. I'll help." Marina smiles at her second oldest, watching as she runs into the kitchen. The baby is crying, Thomas, the third oldest - and also the next to youngest -is wailing; he is only six years, crying out for mama. She smiles when she hears Sophia comfort him, "Mama is ill, Thomas, we must let her rest." Smiling, Marina turns on to her side and closes her eyes only to cough again into her pillow and with each cough is a burning ache in her chest and the swimming of her head is worse than it ever was. She's always been a positive person, always; hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.
"Gregor," she whispers, her voice raspy from coughing so much, tears wet her eyes and cheeks. "Please"-cough-"return to me soon.."
With the sun on the horizon close to setting, the carriage sits behind the pub; the driver has her hood covering face and buttoned in the front so there isn't much to see of her. Her hands; small and soft looking; holds the reins and waits for her "parcel" to show. She doesn't want to do this, but if she must then she must, tapping her foot anxiously against her carriage she looks over her shoulder to see if the other carriage has arrived yet- ah, it has!
A black carriage with rotting wood, being pulled by a single horse. Black fur, black main, and eyes that seem to be black as well. The Devil's horse, they're called.
"It's about time you showed." She says as the carriage pulls to a stop behind her; behind the driver is a cage, covered with a tarp and tied down with rope and twine, she smiles like the evil little rat she is. "You have it. Good." she pulls out a bag of coins from her brasier, and the other driver holds out his leather gloved hand. Not saying a word, but he needs not to, he knows why he's been summoned. "The ball is in a few days...and I want to make sure that nothing goes right."
He nods, his hood bobbing up and down as he takes the money and clicks his reins and his carriage moves forward. As if no transaction of any kind had just happened; as it should appear, oh but everyone will see at the ball. A new source of entertainment.
A piece of insurance to insure that her future is certain of how she's been planning it. Clicking her reins, she makes the horse turn around to go back to her castle; the sun is almost beginning to set. She pulls her hood further over her head, and makes sure that it covers the peasant dress that she borrowed from the ...ugh, the woman that her brother is unfortunately doting on.
Oh well, nothing will go right at the ball. Nothing.
Not if Sharpay Evans, princess of Faerie has anything to say about it.
:) What do you think Sharpay is up to? Is it obvious why she is trying to sabotage her own ball?
Troyella Fluff! What do you think of that?
And Gabriella's mother!
How do you think everything is going to play out? What do you think is going to happen at the ball with this "New source of entertainment"?
Review!
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~Elena xxx