A/N: Thanks so much to FeJoy29 and JohnKrasinskiLover again for your input and advice!

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except mine. The list is beginning to become too long to name.

I didn't know what to do.

I just…stared at him.

Somewhat like he had stared at me, though less in thought and more in shock. My face was blank and read expressionless. It was just so surreal. Like I was in a dream, and if I pinched myself, I would wake up and everything would be normal again. My mom would be making brunch downstairs, the strong pancake aroma wafting up to my room and spoiling my nostrils with her secret recipe. She would be singing along to the radio, like she used to, her melodic voice thin and fragile but lovely all the same. My father would be reading the paper intently, lounging in a kitchen chair and giving my mom kisses here and there, sometimes joining in humming if a song he liked came along. But then he left. And then the old Gabriella left me. And I was nothing. I was so vulnerable. So powerless that I fell hopelessly in love. And I was so stupid. I thought I knew him, when maybe it was all a lie.

Who was this guy? He was certainly not the man I had fallen in love with. I was so dreadfully confused that I began to feel panging in my forehead.

"God," he mumbled between piteous sobs against my skin. He had collapsed back on top of me, his head resting in between my breasts. My hands had dropped at my sides lazily, not taking anything in. Not feeling, not thinking…but there. Just there. I just felt anesthetized. So dumbfounded. Warm, fresh tears cascaded down his face and blended with the beads of sweat on my sticky skin. And I merely stared out the window, numb and honestly scared to death inside, gazing out absentmindedly at the grave sky, my eyes unfocused and lost. Just like my discouraged heart, empty of hope. "Help me, Gabi," he murmured, my skin vibrating in the cold from his desperate voice. He seemed so distressed and worn, but I just couldn't fall into him. I couldn't allow myself.

"Please get off of me," I whispered, straining myself to stay patient and staring aimlessly at the ceiling. "Just…please." My voice was shaking, frightening myself. I felt him breathing against my skin, the hot air making me shiver amidst the freeze rushing in through the open window. He finally slowly sat up, sitting on me in a straddle again. Unable to take it, I rolled my eyes, roughly pushing him off of me by the chest, grimacing at the sudden loss of warmth and contact. He stumbled back off the bed, throwing the drenched condom in the trash, and composing himself once more. I gulped at the complete sight of his fully nude body, using all the power I had to yank my eyes away from the stunning scene.

"What was that?" he whispered tentatively, his tone displaying he was obviously hurt by the action.

"Just—" I stammered in frustration, my hands clenching into fists automatically. "Please. Just leave. You're only making it harder for me."

"Baby—" he choked desperately, his sweaty face softening touchingly. I shook my head.

"—Don't call me that," I spat angrily, snatching the bed covers and pulling them up over my breasts. He looked extremely offended, and I watched in tension as he tried to keep his fuming under control.

I wasn't going to cave. There was no way he was going to get away with that. I just couldn't let him. I couldn't believe he would do this to me. But he had.

I tightened the blankets around me, feeling self-conscious and hoping to block the chill. It wasn't really working. I shrunk down on the bed as I saw him pace the room, his eyes darkening in deep thought.

"Why'd you lie to me, Hunter?" I whispered quietly, my voice trembling uncontrollably as I was so awfully nervous. He flinched at the name, pausing midway to slip on his red Hollister T-shirt. He finally simply sighed, his beautiful blue eyes fluttering closed for a moment in a way to calm himself. He ran his fingers through his gorgeous brown hair, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily as he began searching for his clothes, scattered wildly about the room. "You said you were moving to Nevada."

"I wasn't lying," he muttered in that smooth, level voice of his as he slid on his plaid boxers. "I did live in Nevada. But then I moved again."

"You could have told me," I whispered dejectedly, a knife stabbing at my chest with every sour word. I shuddered as a fresh gust of wind scurried into the room through the window, only making me scrunch up even smaller on the bed. "You never once bothered to talk with me."

"I couldn't bring myself to," he whispered, soughing as he collapsed tiredly onto a white pillow-adorned bench near the window. He dropped his head in his hands in exhaustion, rubbing his hands vigorously all over his face, giving special attention to his temples. "I knew I would break." His breathing became terrifyingly irregular. "As much as I wanted to hear your voice…I didn't want to hear it sad."

"You could have made it all better," I interjected coldly, my face suddenly hardening to stone. I was angry, and I couldn't help myself. I had been holding this in for too long, and now I was just exploding, out of my power to stop myself. All he was was a coward inside. "If you cared enough for me, you would've called anyway." I lowered my voice to a weak whisper, my voice cracking feebly. "You would've known I would have wanted to hear your voice; sad, mad, bad, or glad. Anything. I would have taken anything, any emotion, given anything. You would have done it for me. You wouldn't have cared that you didn't want to hear my voice—"

"—I did want to hear your voice!"

"IF YOU REALLY WANTED TO, YOU WOULD HAVE CALLED, NO MATTER FUCKING WHAT!" I was panting, my chest heaving up and down crazily.

He suddenly picked his head up from his hands, his cobalt eyes open wide at my unexpected, out-of-character outburst.

"I couldn't," he murmured gravely, shaking his head. "I just…couldn't."

My eyes were spinning intensely, burning holes through his yet unquestionably perfect image. My veins were flaming with what I called rage. I gritted my teeth together, my eyes spiraling madly with fury. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? I lifted my upper body up, sitting on my haunches, my arms behind me for support. The blanket suddenly sagged down to my stomach, but I quickly pulled it back up, praying he hadn't seen anything.

"You're just a coward," I hissed frigidly, curling the bed sheet material in my fist furiously. "And I was so vulnerable that I let myself fall in love with an asshole like you."

"So you admit it's your fault," he grunted, slapping his hands to his kneecaps as he stood and began to pace the room again. My eyes followed his anxiously moving form; back and forth, back and forth…I almost became dizzy.

"No, it's not my fault," I snapped. "It's yours. You knew I was so innocent and defenseless. You knew it, and you abused that fact. You tricked me. You fucking set it all up." My unbalanced breathing was erratic and dangerously unsteady, my drained head bobbing up and down slightly as I fought to catch my breath.

"It was never a set up," he gulped hoarsely, staring straight at the hardwood floor out of nervousness. "I always loved you."

I couldn't believe how ridiculous his answers were. How unbelievable and cheap and cheesy they were. Did he really think I would believe that shit? Did he really think anyone would? He knew whom he was dealing with. He knew me better than anyone else. Or did he?

"Cut the crap," I seethed. "Are you just on drugs or something? Where's the Hunter I loved?"

He cringed at the name again, arresting his frantic pacing merely to breathe. I watched, entranced—in awe, though I wouldn't admit it—as he tried to relax himself, shutting his eyes gently as he thought carefully.

"We're both at fault here, Gabriella." The way my name poured so smoothly from his mouth made me realize how much he cherished it. His mesmerizing sapphire eyes were practically glistening through every syllable. My heart lifted at this, but sunk at his next words, "You lied too."

"I didn't—"

"—Don't even try," he interrupted immediately, and I was surprised by his sudden anger and confidence etched on his face and strung in his voice. The confidence he slopped on may not have been real, but at least it looked it. His facial features had also suddenly turned to stone, almost as if in competition to beat my anger. "Don't even fucking give a go. You could have searched for me. You lied and you said you were experienced."

"I did not do—"

"—YOU HAVE FUCKING GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! There was blood all over the condom! And the bed sheets are completely stained. You were grimacing in the beginning. Shit, there were tears in your eyes. You can't sell me that, Gabriella."

I felt my cheeks sweltering with agonizing embarrassment, and I inched down the covers below me to spot a wet splotch of red on the white sheet between my legs. I bit my lip, blinking a few times before answering in a small, tryingly innocent voice, "You fucked me."

"And if I had known the truth, that you were a virgin, I wouldn't have. I just needed release." He was standing in front of the bed, staring fixedly at my chest. I looked down, noticing to my horror it was completely bare. I gasped, having not realized the covers had accidentally slipped again. I desperately scrambled to disclose my nude form again, and I felt like kicking Hunter as he tried to keep his chuckle behind his sealed lips.

"Liar," I croaked.

"As are you."

"You lied to me first."

"How do I even know? You lied to me for so many other things," he sighed in distress, plummeting down at the edge of the bed. I scooted away from him, rolling my eyes when the bed covers slid from body. I didn't even care anymore. He could stare all he wanted. He had already seen everything. He wasn't getting one piece of me. I wasn't giving him a souvenir.

"I lied," I whispered finally, hanging my head in shame. I just couldn't bear to look him in the eye, or even at all. "I lied, and made up stories. To make my life sound more…normal. But exciting and different at the same time. I was going to tell you but then…" I sighed, hugging my knees to my exposed chest. "It was too late."

"Like what?" he asked quietly, his voice surprisingly calm. His gaze was glued to the floor, his eyes glossy as he thought, so deeply that for a second, he seemed like the man I had known. But just as quickly, the feelingdiminished.

"Like my father," I muttered, turning my eyes away out the window to study the somber sky. "My father was never a major, praised detective." I gulped forcibly, my throat dry of moisture all of a sudden. "He was a lawyer."

"And what the fuck is wrong with that?"

I shrugged, feeling ridiculous. "I don't know," I whispered embarrassedly. "I just wanted to be different." I pressed my lips together, watching as the gray clouds prepared themselves for the storm. "God, I was just so confused then."

"Like you are now?"

"No, worse."

He seemed surprised that I had agreed to his smart-ass comment.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I'm not sure of anything anymore."

"I'll help you," he offered faintly, his voice quiet and timid.

"NO!" I yelled. "I don't fucking want your help. You'll only fuck it up more."

I don't think he'd ever heard me curse so much in his life. But it was out of my power. I was breathing heavily, just staring at his limp figure on the edge of the bed in deep, meaningful thought.

I couldn't believe him. I just couldn't. No matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much I wanted everything to be okay again, better; like it was before. And he looked so damn beautiful sitting there, contemplating seriously to himself, the moonlight shimmering off of his gleaming skin, and his dulled blue eyes closed.

"If there's anyone who needs help, it's you," I supposed icily, readjusting my position on the bed so I was laying down on my back, my elbows up for support behind me. He didn't move, his solemn eyes still permanent to the floor in concentration. He sighed unenthusiastically again, his worn shoulders wilting.

"Just—" he let out a strangled exhale.

"What?" I spat out.

"Gabriella…I need you."

"Just shut the fuck up, okay?" I jumped up immediately, bouncing around the dark room frenziedly and searching desperately for my clothes, pulling them on as quickly as I could. "Asshole."

"Please, Gabriella," he whispered tiredly, his voice dripping with sadness. I whipped around, greatly bothered, only to meet his dismally solemn face, fresh tears ready to spill from his cobalt eyes any second. "I went back to your house. In San Diego."

"Liar."

"No, no," he sobbed, shaking his head vigorously to prove his point. "I had to make sure—I had to make sure y-you weren't there…that you were h-here…"

I suddenly stopped, dropping my shoe in shock. The sound of it connecting with the hardwood floor was the only other thing heard in the room besides his continuous, hopeless wails, which he tried to muffle in his hands. "W-What?" I breathed uncertainly, my voice cracking terribly. I stared aimlessly at the shadowed wall, my dreary eyes glazing over as my heart began thumping uncontrollably in my chest, harder and faster with every long second. "W-Wait—you kn-knew…you knew I-I was here?" I choked, somehow forcing the disgusting words out of my mouth, barely coherent at the last part. My chest throbbed at the oxygen trapped in its confines.

"Chad," he whispered bluntly in disgrace, his head hung and still hid snuggly in his rough hands. "Chad told me he…h-he met you." Unable to carry on, he paused to sob once or twice more, my heart breaking at the pitiful sight. I wanted so much to run over there and wrap my arms around him, and soothe him to peace. But I squeezed my clammy fingers into fists, knowing I needed to maintain some willpower. I couldn't do that. That would only dig myself a deeper hole.

"A-and…?" I croaked weakly, slowly bending down to pick up my dropped shoe. I felt so stiff as I stared at him, finding it hard to breathe as he rubbed his tear-stained face thoroughly again, as if trying to rid the sadness that drenched the room. My eyes were glued to him, just analyzing his every move; so beautiful and intricate. And oh God, I was falling again. I was falling for him. Falling in love. I couldn't. I just couldn't do that. To myself, to the world, to God…I owed myself some strength. I needed to regain status and show him that I wasn't easy to tear down. It didn't matter that he thought he knew the truth already. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Except him. He mattered. He did. And as much as I told myself he didn't, the more he seemed to be of importance.

"I told th-them…" He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, only briefly lifting his heavy head to reveal a wet, sodden face, purple bags under his eyes from an unhealthy lack of sleep. "I told Ch-Chad, T-Taylor, and Sharp-pay to keep an eye on y-you…until I got back…"

"Until you got back from where?" I whispered, barely able to contain myself through the budding suspense and impatience inside of me, ready to burst. "From Nevada?"

He nodded wearily, his head dropping back into his hands lazily like a hundred-pound weight dropping onto asphalt. "I was at basketball c-camp…but I couldn't d-do—anyth-thing…without y-you …my baby…"

I flinched uncomfortably at the name. "Don't call me that. Just—don't," I muttered, my forehead crinkling in disgust at the term of endearment. He had no right to call me that anymore. Like I was still his girlfriend. Like I was still his. Maybe not entirely, and not officially, but I think we both knew that he still secured my heart. My broken heart. And he only continued to tear it apart. But I had no hopes of getting it back anytime soon; he had no intentions of returning it. It wasn't like he'd be able to anyway.

"I—really…I had never felt so f-fucking shitty b-before in my entire lif-fe…I just had to—I just n-need—I just need-ded you…so fucking much…so I ran…" The glow of the moon reflecting of him only made him seem more precious, more like a treasure. My face softened suddenly, my lips trembling as well as my hoarse voice.

"You…r-ran?" I strained, covering my mouth as boiling tears began brimming my eyes again. But what I really was thinking was, You ran? For…me? Because in a way, it seemed so.

"I r-ran…I ran away from the camp to your old h-house in San D-Diego…it was l-like it was all a nightmare…I was so l-lost…and so then…I es-escaped and came here…Tay and Chad and Shar don't kn-know I am here y-yet…" And he broke down into pathetic, full-fledged sobs all over again.

I just stood there, totally clueless of what to do, feeling awkward and out of place. My small figure felt solid and firm, unwilling to let me move. No matter how much I wanted to, I simply couldn't. My aching feet were anchored there, and my gaze was just fixed on him and only him, my own fiery tears burning my face at the sight of his despaired, crumpled form. I clasped my hands together, screaming at myself on the inside not to jump on him in a caring embrace. But it proved to be one of the most difficult things I ever had to abstain from doing.

"Why did you go that basketball camp, Hunter?" He grimaced at the name, almost as if in pain. "Why?" I stressed again, though more softly.

"I lived here…before I-I moved to San Diego to be with my mom…I l-lived here with my dad…but he got too controlling and annoying…s-so I told my m-mom…she fought w-with my dad and eventually my parents arranged I-I would live with my mom for a year or t-two…but then time was u-up… I h-had to go…I had s-signed myself up for b-basketball camp before you so I could g-get out of school and my d-dad for a while…as long as-s I could, I wanted t-to be away…but then y-you c-am—cam-me and I wanted to be w-with you for—for-rever…and then I had to go…and it was so fucking God awful…"

I bit my tongue forcefully at his disheartening confession, my spirits so hazardously low they brushed the ground. My chest barely expanded with each quick, shallow breath, as I was incapable of taking anymore than a quarter of a lungful. "If you wanted to be with me forever, you would have called," I whispered coldly again, wiping away a falling tear. "You would have contacted me somehow."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Hunter gulped. "I thought we were over that."

"We're not over anything."

"You're over me," he swallowed hoarsely.

My heart jolted at this, my stomach flipping in terror. "I never said that," I whispered bitterly.

"You haven't said much; so what am I supposed to think, do?" he replied firmly, his voice suddenly containing an alarming amount of power. He stood up abruptly, his burly form towering over mine, intimidating me to my bones and causing me to feel like a useless midget.

"I don't want to have anything to do with y-you," I stuttered between sobs. "I can't believe I ever fell in l-love with a fucking moron like you."

I twirled around before he could reply, slipping my foot in my shoe and racing out the bedroom door. I sprinted down the lengthy, dark hallway, coughing at the smoke a few times before reaching the end. I checked behind me quickly to make sure he wasn't at my tail. He hadn't followed me. I ran down the steps, feeling new sweat bead on my forehead, and I automatically diving into the mass of people, the immense density unbelievable. I had never seen so many teenagers at one house party in my life.

"Excuse me," I grunted as I did my best to meddle myself through the thick pack. My eyes frantically searched for the exit. "Excuse me, I need to—"

But suddenly, I saw an excruciatingly familiar figure to my left, grinding violently with a muscular man who looked much, much older. I didn't even need to glimpse her barely-a-foot-long miniskirt; the cardboard-straight golden hair whipping around wildly in the fog was it. And if that wasn't enough, the exotic, snakeskin-green eyes really established the fact.

Elizabeth had joined the party.

A shocked gasp; a whitened, pale face; and then heard above all, "Gabriella!"

A/N: And to all the Americans, I hope all of you had wonderful Fourth of Julys! And thanks to nostalgicleigh, that was a really sweet PM. ;D