Authors note: The reviews: Thank you all so much. Your reviews mean so much to me. I genuinely enjoy writing these characters. I hope you all love Troy as much as I do. He's a confusing character; I'll point that out from the beginning. That is all. See you in Chapter 3. I DON'T OWN "WAVES"

CHAPTER 2: PURPLE

His breath was warm by my ear, his voice radiating sex appeal in its most subtle form, he smelt of vanilla, a spicy kind. Although not completely within his embrace, I could feel he was strong. As ridiculous s it sounds, I found myself completely attracted to a man who had caged me in for a few seconds and whose face I had yet to see.

I could still hear, and feel, him breathing. Deep, hot breaths. Then, he spoke again.

"Hey."

It was so simple. I swallowed the ball of nerves I had collected in my throat, "Hi."

Suddenly, I was not within his embrace and he had taken a seat on the stool next to me.

I felt stripped of my breath. The man was simply magnificent. I simply couldn't put his beauty into words. Like an airbrushed GQ model, but completely natural. He had flawless skin, with a, what could only be described as sexy, slight stubble on his chin. And his eyes. I gasped slightly as our eyes met, overwhelmed by the strength and power in them. The colour was so vibrant and blue that the sea would have paled in comparison. His jaw was strong and muscular, defined to the point where DiVince himself could've sculpted it. It felt wrong to stare at him like he was a painting on the wall, but my desires kept me looking. I could've stared for ever but a bottle of water slid across the counter, lightly tapping my arm.

Grabbing the bottle to open it, he kept his eyes on me, before handing me my opened bottle, "Here, I'm Bolton."

I took a sip, a very small sip and the put the bottle down. He looked at me expectantly, clearly wanting my name, I wasn't sure if I should tell him. He's a stranger after all.

"Gabriella." I said quickly, probably too quickly.

He looked amused. And he looked good amused.

"Gabriella…" He tested it out, and then tested it out a few more times, "Gab-ri-el-la. Gabriella. Cute."

I blushed against my will. He looked older than me, probably in his early or mid twenties. I mumbled a thanks and watched as he sipped a beer I didn't even realized he had before looking down at my lap suddenly disgusted as I realized how short my dress was, how much of my body was exposed, how much he could see, how much everyone could see.

"Dance with me." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and there was no mistaking it. I didn't want to dance with him. I was Christian, not ignorant to the world. I knew that dancing didn't mean the waltz or innocent ballet. I complied, nonetheless. Sharpay was right, I was a pushover. His eyes tempted me in every shape and form.

Nonetheless I stood taking the hand he offered and watched as walked backwards slowly, leading me to centre of the dance floor.

Reaching the middle, I paused at took a moment to take in his image. His hair was of up, in an attractively messy style, the gray tshirt he wore under his unbuttoned leather jacket clung to what looked like an impressive physique and I could see the outline of his pectorals. Gasping inwardly, I diverted my eyes back to his, only to see him staring at my intently.

The purple strobe lights danced beautifully around the room. Flashes of purple people, purple drinks, purple clothing. But all I saw was one pair of blue eyes. Bolton's blue eyes.

His hands lightly grabbed my hips lightly and gently pulled me towards him, leaving an inch of space between us, before beginning to move to music slowly as a new song began.

I'm slowly drifting, drifting away,
Wave after wave, wave after wave
I'm slowly drifting, drifting away,
and it feels like I'm drowning,

I felt as his head moved lower, towards the side of my head,

"Relax, Beautiful," he whispered, carelessly moving a strand of hair behind my ear.

I cleared my throat, "I'm sorry, it's just that I don't usually dance with people I don't kn-"

He cut me off before I could finish my sentence he began one of his own, "My name is Bolton, my favorite colour is green because I like plants and I like dancing with pretty girls. Know me well enough, yet?"

"Sorry," I mumbled

He laughed, "Don't be, Beautiful."

We continued dancing, his head burying itself in my hair and his hands gripping tighter onto my waist swaying my body from left to right, pulling me a little closer each time. As the song finished, he let go and took a step back. He smirked.

"Come with me," he beckoned, turning around and walking into the crowd. I obeyed and followed quickly looking around at the purple faces but still following the man with the blue eyes.

He led me to what looked like the back of the club and I watched as he walked over to one of the small circle tables and sat down, look at me expectantly. I walked over to him and stood awkwardly.

"You can sit, you know?" He said, his voice monotone.

I noticed him patting the empty seat beside him slowly and walked over, taking a seat, very much aware that my entire leg was on show and that he could see nearly everything. Nearly.

Suddenly Bolton's eyes looked behind me and he started laughing. Honestly, I don't think it could be considered laughing, more chuckling, darkly, deviously, satanically. Then he stopped… and sighed.

"You're so innocent," I hear a female voice from behind me say, "So, so innocent."

Another smirk appeared on Bolton's face, a sly one. He raised his eyebrows in greeting to the woman and be motioned her forwards.

Another face appeared by his beautiful one. An evil one. One with pale skin, purple lips and dry hair. Her outfit was practically nonexistent; her breasts were barely contained, her bones protruding.

"You must be Gabriella," she said, offering out a hand.

I was reluctant to shake it for two reasons. Firstly, she scared me. Her cheeks were sunken, bags so heavy under her eyes that not even her makeup could conceal it and her eyes screamed hell. Secondly, it confused me slightly that she knew my name.

She must've realized for she chuckled and retracted her hand, "Your friend Sharpay told me you were reserved, she also said you were a pushover. This explains why Bolton bagged a dance with you."

I felt as my eyebrows raised themselves.

She continued, "I'm Herring."

"Hi…" I said, confused as to why Sharpay would reveal my identity, lost in my own thoughts, I didn't paid no mind to Herring whispering things into Bolton's ear until he abruptly stood, grabbed my hand and yanked me towards the back door.

The air was cool, the sky a dark color, perhaps purple. I held my gray jacket together with my hands, shivering slightly; careless of the long, warm coat I'd left back in the club. It hadn't yet struck me that I was wandering around with a strange man, the thought had crossed my mind, but I could've cared much less.

"You're still here?" I suddenly heard the husky voice beside me ask.

I nodded a small nod.

"Why?" he asked, as he stopped walking and turned his body towards me.

"Sorry, I'm just gonna go…" I began, turning a full one-eighty.

"No, stay. Please."

And for some reason, I did.

AN: Oh "hi" Beautiful Person who has successfully reached the end of this chapter. Please review, even if it is to tell me how awful I am. Love you. xxx