A/N: Hey everybody! Sorry I've been taking so long to update. Finals are coming up, and I'm like clustering my brain. It's crazy. HOWEVER, I am here making some Troyella time, of course. How could I resist? I'm looking forward to the movie, 17 in which Zac stars in this April. Yes, I'm one of those crazy fan girls. I watch a lot of his interviews and all that jazz. Just can't resist the eyes. I'm glad you guys like what I did to the personalities here. Yes, Troy is like the innocent goody-two shoes boy, and Gabriella's like the complete opposite. And she likes all his friends. Yet, now she can't talk to Ryan because she and Sharpay made a deal. : P. And Ryan is so cute, too. (Thumbs down) But go Troyella. Here we go. Don't forget to leave a review. Love always, Whitney.
"Well cross my heart and hope to . . . I'm lying just to keep you here."
-TAKING BACK SUNDAY
Troy's Mind-
"Gosh, Troy," My mother complained, fixing my tie, so it became picture-perfect with my suit. "Will you ever learn how to work a tie?" She smiled through her age lines. Ridiculous how we got all dressed up for a dinner.
Then again, who could ruin the conservative way of attending a neighbor's house for dinner? It was almost routine for us to go somewhere. And it seemed like every single time, it just got even more formal. I mean, the first time we did this I was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Now I'm wearing a suit and a tie.
"Now, remember to be polite." My dad lectured, his usual, militant voice following him as he patted me on the back, encouragingly.
"I'm sure they're wonderful people, Jack." My mother, being the optimist, always thought that every family had the same morals as we did.
"I'm sure." My father, being the hardheaded man he was, of course, wasn't convinced. He wrapped an arm around my mother's waist, as I followed behind, feeling more stupid then you could ever imagine. "Troy, introduce yourself, politely." He repeated.
"I will." I grumbled, following behind them.
New Mexico's heat greeted us as we walked outside. I already knew I was going to feel uncomfortable, but then again, I was so used to conventional clothing, it was impossible to even care that much. I think I was more nervous about the fact that it was her family.
I just couldn't help but feel furious with the woman. I mean, she was playing all of my friends! Even Zeke thought he had a chance with her. It seemed heartless of her to just lead them on with such a delicate string. I mean, did she ever consider that they might actually have feelings? Plus, on the side, she kept trifling with me, like I was going to hook up with her. Right - not when she's messing with all of my best friends.
I rolled my eyes at the memory, as we stumbled onto the Montez's front porch. God, this was so embarrassing. We looked so prim and proper, you'd laugh. I mean, my dad stood with his arm gently wrapped around my mother's waist—not too tight, not too lethargic, my mother just smiled, heedlessly, and I just stood there, forcing a horrible smile. I mean, it was obvious I was dying inside. Seriously - you'd have to be blind not to notice.
The door swung open only a minute after my dad rang the doorbell. I cringed, again. I really didn't want to be here, seriously. I would have done anything. I mean, even if I'd have to deal with Zeke for like three hours, I would totally do that.
Gabriella's parents appeared at the door, grinning cordially at us. I figured they would be pretty casual. I mean, her dad wore a simple pair of khaki dress pants, and a button-up long-sleeved shirt. Her mother wore pants, also. And here we were, dressed up like we were going to a business meeting. I frowned.
"Hello!" My mom gasped as they exchanged greets—shaking hands and whatnot. It was annoying, my parents putting on such a flawless show for them. I could tell my dad was dying to make them feel inferior to him, yet he hadn't tried, not just yet.
"Troy, we meet again." Her mother looked to me, wrinkles evident as she smiles at me. I can't help but notice the similarities between her and Gabriella. She had the same almond-colored eyes, the same thick nose and lustrous bronze skin.
I extended a hand, "Hello, Mr. And Mrs. Montez." Yet again, I was forcing the words out of my mouth. I felt the disfavor towards my behavior hit. I couldn't stand pretending to be something I just wasn't.
"Ah, he's so handsome!" Gabriella's mother complimented, smiling at me. She looked back to her husband, "Where is Gabriella?" She asked annoyance in her voice.
"Eh, erm," He coughed, purposely, "Gabriella! Come down here!" He yelled up towards the stairs.
I couldn't help but feel even more intimidated. I knew she was just going to make this even worse. She was always so brutally honest. Would she be like that with her parents around? I didn't want to analyze it.
It took a few minutes before she descended the stairs, looking, well, hot as always. I mean, the girl didn't know what fancy was, had it hit her in the face. She wore a pair of tight jeans that hugged her noticeably, and a white tank top that said Bad Girl across it. I almost chuckled at the sight of her. Her ebony-colored locks hung passed her shoulders, as usual, in large amounts of curls. I think my hormones acted up as she approached us. I became motionless.
"Gabriella." Her father gritted his teeth, looking down to his daughter with frustration.
"Sorry, old man. What's up?" She smirked, brashly, looking to my family and me.
I felt my cheeks heat up - God, how awkward. Seriously, we were so socially awkward. What was wrong with us? Couldn't we just be more laid-back? We were so uptight.
"Yow, didn't know this was a party. Guess I should have worn a long dress." She chaffed, receiving soft snickers from both of my parents. My dad, however, gave a hollow snicker, which easily proved he was disgusted by her.
Ugh. I rubbed my forehead.
"And Troy, you look totally uncomfortable." Her eyes fell to mine, the side of her lip curving to the side, inquisitively. I forgot how to breathe.
"You know, why don't you show Troy around, Gabriella? Give him a tour of our house or something? Dinner won't be ready for another fifteen minutes." Gabriella's mother suggested, looking down to her daughter with hard eyes, and clenched teeth. They looked like they were ready to murder her, seriously.
"Tour? Please," Gabriella blew a raspberry, "I highly doubt Troy wants to see this hunk of junk." I noticed my parents furrowing their eyebrows from beside me.
"Gabriella, now." Her father spoke up, abrasive and suddenly agitated. I watch her roll her eyes, then she looked to me, as if wanting to apologize. She grabbed me by the arm, pulling me away from the two families.
"Gabriella, why are we going outside? Your mom said. . ."
"Shut up, Troy." She cut me off, leading me towards her backyard. I furrowed my eyebrows, kind of confused, yet following after her. "You really want a lame-ass tour of my house, Troy?" An erratic, amused grin appeared on her lips as she fell down to the grass, right beside her garage.
"Well . . . no." I admitted, scratching my head. I didn't bother taking a seat next to her.
"Hmm. Your parents are such hard-asses. Like, you all looked like you had something shoved up your ass. It was disgusting." She began to dig through her purse, which she was carrying the entire time. I didn't bother responding, I knew it was the truth.
I watched as she pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up conveniently with a lighter she had in her purse. She inhaled, gracefully, and then exhaled, the smoke wheezing out of her mouth, raunchily. I looked away, repulsed by it, "You're so damn quiet. You're like, the definition of a mouse, except even mice do that annoying squeaky thing." She observed, gently tapping her cigarette on the ground.
"You and Sharpay are friends now?" It's funny how squeaky mice seemed to remind me of Sharpay.
"Yeah, I guess," Her chocolate brown eyes met mine, impassively. "I thought she was like slicing you with those nails, but I guess that's just what it seems like. She really just has long nails. The girl's pretty damn cool once you get passed the bull shit."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't stand Sharpay.
"Plus, I made a deal with her that I wouldn't sleep with her bro - though he wants me so bad. And he's like a little piece of glass—so fragile and clean." She looked diverted by this, a smile appearing on her face. I couldn't help rolling my eyes, "Seriously, you fucking wildcats, you're like . . . so virginal. What's with that?" She sighed, inhaling more smoke. "Why are you so scared of me?"
"I'm not."
"Bull shit. You're like, miles away from me. Do these things scare you?" She snickered, holding up the cigarette.
"I don't want lung cancer." I muttered, dryly, "Or to be assassinated by my own father, either." That was the truth.
"Oh, boohoo." She mocked me, chuckling.
"You know, that's not a really good idea either, considering the fact that your parents and my parents could just walk out and--"
"Dude, chill out - seriously, like, relax." She looked to me with playful eyes, "It's cute how goody-goody you are, you and your perfect shoes." She pointed to my checkered tennis shoes, which obviously weren't as formal as my suit. I owned about twenty pairs of vans and I didn't have any dress shoes.
I couldn't help but chuckle a little, "Hey, I like them." I defended, averting my eyes from hers.
"They're cute, I won't lie. But they don't match with your suit. You're kind of off-beat a tad. I'm surprised." She giggled, "It's like a flaw almost. What will you do?"
I didn't say anything, just folded my arms, looking down to my feet.
She sighed, then took out another cigarette, looking towards me, grinning, "Say, Troy, do you want a cig?"
"Ha. I'll pass." I rubbed the back of my neck, uncomfortably.
"Aw, have you ever even tried one?" She asked, pouting.
"No."
"Well, there's gotta be a first for everything. I mean, think of this like your first kiss. You just have to go for it. So, take the chance, step up." She winked at me, holding out the cigarette.
"You're insane."
"Eccentric." She corrected. "Come on - just once. One cig isn't going to give you cancer."
"As delightful as it sounds, I seriously will pass."
"Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" She looked almost pleased about this.
"Gabriella, I really shouldn't."
"You don't want to break out of your perfect habits . . . just for a second?" She persisted.
"No." I bit my bottom lip.
She snorted, obviously aggravated with me, then stood up, walking towards me. I moved away, unsure of what she was intending on doing.
"Dude, why the hell are you running away from me?" She chuckled.
I stopped, folding my arms in agitation, "Fine." I sighed, looking to her, exasperated. She only grinned, appeased by my agreement.
She moved so close to me, only leaving centimeters between us. I could smell the aroma of the cigarette. And her, well, she smelled like Pink Sugar . . . it was intoxicating. I had to stop myself from coughing. But she continued smirking, as if she had something ridiculously evil planned. I had to force myself not to run away.
Then she just stood there, we were practically nose to nose. "Okay, open your mouth."
"What?" I croaked, befuddled.
"Oh my god - Troy, just fucking do it." She snarled, giving me serious eyes.
"You know my dad will kill me if he finds me doing anything--" I was interrupted by her inhaling smoke from her cigarette, then blowing it into my mouth. Upon reaction, I didn't inhale all the smoke, only a bit, which made me cough.
She rolled her eyes. "You're such a loser. Come on. You have to at least inhale."
"Gabriella, this is insane. I'm going back in." She stopped me before I could go, blocking my way. "What about the smell of smoke? My dad, he--"
"Gum." She held it up, swinging it as if I was an idiot.
"Gabriella!" I heard her mom call, loudly.
Gabriella looked to me. "Ugh, this is going to be a gradual death." That was one thing we could both agree on.
"Well, he's getting a scholarship too. I mean, he's had Academic Honors classes since he was a kid." My dad ranted on, and on. I mean, it was no surprise that he was getting his boasting in now. It seemed frustrating.
The Montez's faked paying attention, while Gabriella and I just played with our food. I continued scooping up piles off corn, just to casually fling it back onto the tray. I guess I must have looked like a toddler, had you really stared at me.
"So, Gabriella, what do you intend on doing for the future?" My mom looked to Gabriella with curious, upbeat blue eyes.
I groaned, maybe a bit too loud, shriveling in my seat. Gabriella looked surprised by the question, and possibly blank on what to say. "U-uh . . . well, whatever, I guess."
"Ah, is she going to college?" My mom's eyes darted over to the Montez's, penetrating them, slowly.
They looked embarrassed. "Eh, well, we haven't really . . . eh, considered that much. Gabriella . . . doesn't get very good grades." Mr. Montez admitted, sheepishly. I noticed Gabriella glare at him from the other side of me.
"I'm sure there's something she's good at." My dad proposed, looking interested.
"Uh . . . not much." The Montez's both confessed, looking to their daughter with disappointment. "She . . . tried out for soccer once." Mr. Montez shrugged.
"I see. Well, Troy's definitely involved in basketball, as you know." My dad beamed, realizing that he had just toppled over them, completely.
Unfortunately, quiet Gabriella couldn't hold in her emotions any longer.
She stormed up, grimacing at him, her stomach hit hard on the table, in rage. "You know what? All of you guys make me fucking ill." My parents' jaws seemed to drop at her mention of the ‛f' word, "Seriously, you pretend that you're God damn perfect or something. You know what? Some of us just want to live instead of having objects crammed up our asses all the time. I'm really glad your son is in basketball. And I'm glad he's so perfect. But you know what? In the end, neither of you will ever know who you really are. Perfection isn't everything; you all are just fucking ignorant. And you all sit here, on your asses, criticizing me because I'm not perfect - because I'm a mistake. Well, what the hell ever. I do what I want. And I don't give a shit what you stuck up rich people think." With wide eyes, and open mouths, we watched her dart out of the dining-room, up to her room—upstairs.
The table became awkwardly silent. My family looked, well, like they had just gotten told off completely. My dad looked somewhat crestfallen and puzzled at the same time. My mother just looked disgusted. And the Montez's looked disgruntled, of course. Me, I was just in complete shock. I couldn't even really make a face.
"Wow. . . I, I am so sorry." Mrs. Montez finally breathed, defeated.
"You know, she used to be such a great kid, always smiling, than something happened, I swear she's not even our daughter anymore. It seems like we're raising Satan's daughter sometimes." Mr. Montez attempted to make a joke - that only seemed cruel and well, heartless.
I almost felt bad.
God that sounded stupid. Why did I feel so bad - because my dad was a jerk? I already knew that he was going to do this. Maybe I didn't expect it to affect Gabriella. I mean, why should she care if my life is supposedly perfect, and I am too? I'm absolutely not. My dad just wants me to be. Why did that bother her so much?
I really did feel bad.
I mean, she was close to tears, saying all of those things.
Why did she care?
Wait, why did I care? Why did I care that she cared?
Ugh, now I'm thinking far too complex.
Maybe I figured she didn't get upset. I mean, the girl clearly gets angry, but I didn't think she actually felt hurt by those things. My dad does that in vain. He doesn't realize it. He's used to it.
I felt bad, for a girl who was careless to the fact that guys had feelings. And I didn't feel bad about feeling bad - weird, crazy. Yeah, I just had to be the good guy of course.
"We should go. . ." My dad looked to my mother and me almost nervously.
"N-no, you don't have to go!" Mrs. Montez objected, looking frenetic.
"You know, I . . . have to use the bathroom, excuse me." I announced, getting up from the table. I walked out of the dining-room, quietly, looking back to them, as they debated over whose fault it was—my dad's, or Gabriella's.
I looked up to the stairs. Man, why do I have to play hero, anyways? I mean, seriously, this was just going to get ugly. I sighed, surrendering, as I headed up the stairs, a bit nervous to her reaction. Would she . . . kill me?
I shuddered, finding her bedroom door to be closed. I heard something—whimpering. I was a bit surprised, and confused. I leaned my ear against the door, attempting to verify my assumptions. I heard her, she was crying.
She seemed like she wasn't that type of girl. I was, well, still surprised. I didn't want to knock on the door, because I knew she would just yell at me, maybe tell me to go away or something. If I knew one thing about a girl, I knew that they didn't like to be . . . bothered?
So, instead, I just walked in, timidly, trying to be more subtle. As she heard me, her eyes instantly fell to mine; as she lay on her bed Indian style tears evident on her tan cheeks. She seemed humiliated and quickly looked away, wiping her tears, and her running mascara.
"What the fuck do you want?" She sounded pretty mad.
"Look, I'm sorry, I know my dad can be . . . well, a little idealistic with his picture-perfect dreams. But it's not like that."
"You guys live a lie. And then you sit there and judge me. My parents sit there and fucking judge me along with your parents. It's gross, Troy. They aren't even my parents. Parents don't do that shit. It's like they decided to just ban me from being their daughter." She wasn't crying, but it looked like she was holding back tears.
"Yeah, I know, it's stupid. My dad's just like that."
"Why the hell do you do that? Why do you sit there and pretend to be perfect?" Anger and abhorrence seemed to linger in her tone.
"I don't pretend. What's with you? You act like you know me so personally. I know my dad was being annoying, he does that. But seriously - now you're judging me?"
"Oh my god . . . What the hell ever, Troy. As if you haven't judged me. You fucking stare at me like I'm some kind of psycho. You think, oh, there's that stupid whore. I mean, why do you look at me like that? Do you find me like, repulsive or something? I never found myself symmetrically challenged. Why do you think I am?" She was now yelling at me, tears rolling down her cheeks.
I rolled my eyes. She was a drama queen. "No! God - Will you just stop yelling? Your parents are gonna hear us. I don't judge you, all right? I don't think you're repulsive. Maybe it's just the fact that you hit on all my friends. And then you try and make your way into my life or something. It just freaks me out." Way too many things said there.
She was infuriated now.
"Oh, wow." Her nose scrunched up with anger. "That's such a lie. I don't hit on all your friends. Hell, your friends hit on me. I can't help the fact that some guys actually acknowledge my existence. Why the fuck don't you just go back to your God damn perfect life, with your perfect dad, your perfect planned out future, your perfect mom, your perfect mother fucking house, your perfect hair, your perfect basketball team, your perfect fucking reputation. And while you're there, being so God damn perfect, I hope you become your father, since you obviously can't live your own life."
I gaped at her, feeling so much heat inside of me, I was about to explode. How could she pretend to know me? She didn't know anything. I felt so much detest for her, I could have just hit her. Then again, that would've been illogical.
"Oh, yeah, my life is so perfect," I murmured at her, unable to keep my emotions steady. It bothered me - kind of hurt me, "so perfect. You know what, Gabriella? I can't help the fact that I'm stuck in a life I can't get out of, where I can't control my own actions, where I can't go and fulfill my own dreams. You know, if I could, just for one day, I would, but if I stumble and fall, just once. . ." I looked away. "Whatever." I turned around. "You wouldn't understand." I almost had to blink back tears, just the thought of how much I really didn't like my life . . . it drove me crazy.
Turning around, I felt something grab my arm. I turned around, half-way, my eyes meeting pure chestnut. They looked messy and smeared in mascara, but still, she looked decent. It seemed impossible. "Troy. . ." I could see the realization in her eyes.
"I have to go." I broke out of her grasp, bursting out of her room. My parents were downstairs, on the verge of leaving.
"Troy, are you ready to go?" My father looked to me, expectedly.
As if I was a robot, programmed to follow his directions, I nodded, "Yeah."
END OF CHAPTER
Intense much? Ugh. Sorry it was more serious. Gabriella's getting an insight of the real Troy, while Troy gets an insight that Gabriella really does have feelings. That was the point here. Though now, it seems like Troy's a bit angry with her. Obviously. There's always something deeper then what it seems, right? Well. I'm sitting here listening to the band, Red. They're amazing. Hide and Already Over are amazing songs by them. I recommend them! Well. Remember to review for updates. Love, Whitney.