A/N: Whitney here! Ah, I just love this website. And the fact that people actually acknowledge my Troyella stories. It just makes me feel happy. I know that sounds cheesy. I'm just into writing x 100 – always have been. Well, I last left you with Troy feeling guilty for saying those things about Gabriella. Will he apologize? Hm, let's see, why don't we? Remember to review! Love, Whitney.
"I didn't want it to mean that much to me."
-TAKING BACK SUNDAY
Gabriella's Mind.
There were many things in my life that I could not stand. One, my parents, being the annoying-ass optimists that they were, scene girls (I really just don't understand the comb over's and the fucking eyeliner smearing their eyes), MySpace (because God forbid those fuckers that blog like maniacs), preppy bitches (get over yourselves), Barney (seriously who the hell makes up songs like 'I love you, you love me'?), girls who can't talk without sounding retarded (you know the one's that shake their hair around and mumble then break-out laughing like hyenas?), pink pants (unless they belong to Ryan Evans), multi-color hairstyles that look like Bozo the mother fucking clown, and arrogant assholes who enjoy talking shit about me when I'm standing right behind them.
I'm good-natured, I'll tell you.
But Troy Bolton seriously pissed me off.
I mean, if he seriously thought I was such a slut, he could have just told me, instead of ranting on about it to Zeke. That was extremely low for Mr. Perfect himself. Honestly, I expected him to have a bit more respect for people then to badmouth them like that. And when he said it, it just tore me up inside. It reminded me of how pathetic I really was. But it also made me upset that he would say those things without even knowing how pathetic I really am. He didn't know the reason why I fucked with everybody, why I was such a screw-up. He acted like he knew, when it was much worse then he even thought. He was judging me, had already. In his mind, I was just some loathsome tramp who couldn't get her mind straight. I couldn't disagree with everything he said – maybe that was why it hurt so much.
I tried to push it aside as I headed for my next hour. He was just some stupid guy that thought he was better then everybody else because his dad was the basketball coach and because he was attractive. He said I was ugly, that I was a whore, and that I didn't deserve anyone to like me. I mean, it was harsh, harsher then I anticipated he could be. And I didn't want it to kill me the way that it did. But thoughts of my past, and the way I react to everything – it seemed to haunt me as I continued with my day. I couldn't just forget. I was angry. I was even more hurt then angry. And I didn't know why. I knew he was scared of me, but I never thought he detested me. I had thoughts replaying in my mind, thoughts of having sweet, exasperating sex with him. And truth be told, because of his abroad attitude towards me, I was even more intrigued by him - only physically, of course.
I stood at my locker, just glaring at it, losing myself in thoughts. It was the next day of school and I was dreading every moment. I hated school, to a maximum. I knew I wouldn't make it to college. There was really no point in me even being here. I already jacked up my future.
"Morning!" I turned to face a grinning Ryan Evans, a lump of books in his hands as he handed me our Physics assignment from the other day.
That's my boy. "Thanks, cutie." I took the paper from him, shoving it into my book bag.
"You need some help with any of those books?" He asked, with kind hazel eyes.
"I'm alright, but thanks for being such a gent." I told him, winking at him as I lazily picked up my five hundred pound bag. Damn.
He just nodded, and then walked away - still looking as spirited as ever in those pink pants. I smirked as I watched him, licking my lips.
I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I found myself in big, chocolate-brown eyes, and the sight of a huge curly afro. Figures Chad Danforth wasn't over me just yet. He looked eager to make conversation as he smiled at me, a look of admiration in his eyes.
God, obsessive much?
I ignored it though, taking advantage of his cuteness as I piled my books into his arms, ignoring the fact that I totally rejected Ryan's offer. Meh, does it even matter? Ryan gave me his fucking homework – that was good enough.
I watched as Chadskee struggled with my books, finding a nice way to offer me a smile, even though he was being smothered by them covering his face. I found it amusing as I folded my arms and grinned at him, licking my top lips seductively.
"Gabriella!" Sharpay's loud, obnoxious voice disturbed the picture in front of me. I'm surprised Chad didn't stumble and fall, all those books scattering all over the floor. He wasn't so coordinated I noticed as he wobbled like he was dizzy or something. His lips formed into a frown as Sharpay approached us.
Sharpay gave him a slight glare, "Where have you been? I need to talk to you, ASAP." I kept my eyes on her, encouraging her to continue. Her eyes wandered to Chad, scanning him with a look of disgust. "Girls only."
Chad, with a handful of books that seemed to go up to his nose, became wide-eyed as he suddenly looked petrified of Sharpay, and made a run for second hour. "I'll meet you there, Gabriella." He told me, an unreadable expression on his face.
I watched him walk away with difficulty, and then turned back to Sharpay, my mouth ajar, "Dude, what the fuck was that, Barbie?"
"I'm not Barbie. Stop calling me that." She flung a golden-blonde curl to her back, "What happened yesterday?"
"What happened with what?" I asked, clueless on what she is referring to.
"Troy. You were like, crying over him." She reminded me, folding her arms, suspiciously. "I yelled at him – told him that it was low."
"You what? What the hell, Shar? Haven't you ever heard of keeping secrets? Shit, now he probably thinks I like him." I groaned, banging my head against the locker – completely aware that it might affect my brain in the near future.
"He thinks you hate him, actually. You should, he is so lame. And those checkered shoes he wears, they are so last February." Sharpay rolled her eyes.
I turned around and stared at her, a look of prostration entering my face. "Dude, are you serious? Last week you wanted to like make love to him or something. You're so fucking bipolar. And I like his lame-ass checkered shoes. Shit, that's probably the only thing cool about that douche bag."
"Yeah, okay, but seriously, Gabriella. Do you like him?" She sounded so serious – I wanted to hit her.
"Are you mentally retarded or are you just deaf? Don't you recall me telling you that I just wanted to do him, really, really bad? I didn't ask for an engagement ring, but apparently guys in this school want to give me one. It's gross."
"Troy doesn't like you."
I didn't know what she was trying to do. If this was her way of consoling me, than she was an idiot. "I know he doesn't like me, jackass."
"Gosh, Gabriella, you were crying."
"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I wasn't crying over him specifically, that it may have something to do with something else?" I suggested.
"Not really." Sharpay looked at me, skeptically. "I'm just saying whether you like to admit it or not, you do care, it's obvious. Maybe it's just attraction, but it's something."
"You are brainless." I murmured as my eyes drifted off to the individuals in the hallway. My eyes slightly fell as I noticed someone walking towards us – someone with tawny-colored hair and ocean-blue eyes, and those motherfucking checkered shoes. All the anger came back to me. "You're fucking me."
"That's gross, Gabriella, I can't even do that. I don't have the parts to do that."
"Shar, turn around." I told her, ignoring her dumb-ass comment.
His eyes found us, just glaring at him from a distance, but he didn't stop, he kept walking, walking towards us. He looked like there was something on his mind, like he actually wanted to converse. I averted my eyes, really not wanting to talk to him, ever again. He called me a whore. He doesn't even know the first thing about me.
"Troy Bolton is coming towards us."
"Really, where? I just see a flock of flies over there." I muttered, disgusted.
"Flies with checkered shoes." She commented, as I just scrunched my face up into a frown even further.
The way he waltzed up to us and set himself up just inches from me, leaning against the locker next to me, just pissed me off even more. He acted like he was king of the world, and clearly he wasn't. I looked away from him, pretending to mind myself in my locker. I'm amazed he even had the guts to approach me again after yesterday. "Gabriella, can I talk to you?' Despite how ridiculously sexy his voice sounded – and the way his body seemed to waver against the locker so beautifully – I kept my back turned.
"Did you hear something, Shar?" I inquired, rudely, ignoring the fact that his eyes were on me, begging for some kind of response.
"Not a thing." She answered, snickering. She was so damn weird sometimes.
"Dumb-ass flies. They like to shit on you, and then they expect you to talk to them again." I murmured, loud enough for him to hear. I imagined the look of annoyance in his eyes.
"Gabriella, seriously, about yesterday—"
"Ugly whores they are, pieces of shit, you can't forget that, I mean seriously, who would ever want to deal with them? They are just a disgrace to society. Even their own fathers don't think they're good enough." I turned around and looked at him, hoping to find the hurt in his eyes, the hurt that he gave me. I waited, and as the words sank in, I noticed a look of shame appearing on his face.
"I'm sorry." He said, his voice slightly breaking as he looked to his shoes. I actually seen the remorse in his eyes, it freaked me out.
"Shar. . . let's get to class. I don't need any shit anymore." I blinked my eyes away from him, my stomach filling with a hollow emptiness I couldn't explain. I didn't look back at him – I just can't. He held too much pain in those eyes that I almost felt bad for ignoring him. Damn, what was my problem?
I hated wildcats. That's all I knew.
"I can't believe Troy Bolton was attempting to apologize to you." Sharpay sounded more covetous then casual as we walked towards my first hour.
"Yeah, what a fruit. After everything he said yesterday, he'll have to bow down and pray to me before I forgive his ass." I told her, emotionlessly.
"You shouldn't even talk to him then."
"Well, I don't usually hold grudges; I'm just still a bit pissed off. I mean, I've never had a guy call me unattractive before, what the hell was up with that?" I asked, unable to hide my hurt. Truthfully, that was harsh. Did he really think I was ugly? I frowned.
"Yeah, that was so mean. I say you stick with Chad." She suggested, though I couldn't help but notice insistency in her voice. She liked Troy still, didn't she? I could almost tell she didn't want me talking to him. That was shitty.
The day went by slowly and I found myself sitting in second hour, sitting in between Chad and some other kid I've never seen before. I think I intimidated Troy; he went half-way across the room, ignoring Chad's invitation.
But I couldn't help but notice the way he would look over, that stupid sorry look on his face. I didn't understand why he felt so fucking badly about something he said to me – I was just the whore trying to break all his friends' hearts or something. He didn't give a shit about what I thought. And I didn't give a shit what he thought.
"I was thinking we could get together and study sometime." I barely heard Chad uttering from next to me. I couldn't break my eyes away from Troy's for one second. I was like captivated by those eyes, they were fucking gorgeous. "Gabriella?" I blinked, realizing I was staring as I averted my eyes from Troy to Chad.
"Sorry, what were you saying?" I asked, trying to act cool and collected.
"Study date, sometime, you know?" He kept trying – despite the fact that he knew I was just looking directly at Troy, even though we were both at war with each other. Damn, what was wrong with me? He told me I was ugly, he called me a whore; he said he didn't like me and nobody else would.
"Yeah, we definitely should." I gave Chad a voluptuous smirk, proving I actually wanted to, followed by a wink.
Chad practically melted.
My eyes somehow flickered back to Troy, even though I really didn't want them to. His eyes were locked onto mine, the same look of apology still written all over his face. I couldn't look any further; I looked back to my journal and looked up to the board.
Recite an event that changed your life – good or bad.
Chad was already scribbling down something frenetically as I looked to the blank piece of notebook paper. I could only think up one event that altered my universe more than anything, that changed the person I am, dramatically. Maybe I lied when I said I don't play around with guys to avoid heartbreak, to avoid some kind of feeling. Maybe that was exactly why I played around with a few guys at a time. Maybe that was the gist of everything – to forget about the emotions, to back away from the closeness.
Flashback.
I pulled down my knee-length skirt – it was tradition for me to dress up, just to look pretty in front of him. I was determined to catch his attention, all the time. I mean, he was my boyfriend, I loved him. And it wasn't that ridiculous puppy love they talked about, or just a high school fling – we both knew that it was more real than anything either of us had ever experienced.
My hair was in braids – he adored my hair in braids, he told me.
I strolled towards my locker, anxious to see him standing there, waiting for me like he always does. He was, of course, looking as graceful as he always does – his long, chestnut-colored hair seemed to shine in the sunlight, and it was so long that it curled from the sides in the most adorable way. It was messy and a bit shaggy but looked cute on him.
But as I approached him, I didn't find the glimmer in his eyes that I was looking for – the way his light brown eyes would light up at the sight of me. It seemed that it was missing. My mood instantly fell and I became confused as I greeted him. He didn't kiss me on the cheek, nor did he kiss me on the forehead. He didn't even bother kissing me on the lips. Emptiness filled my soul as I didn't say anything to him, shuffling through my locker.
"Gabriella." He said his voice less rhapsodic than usual. I turned to face him, fear evident in my eyes – I wasn't ready for whatever he was going to tell me. I knew something was wrong. I just didn't want to accept it. "We need to talk." The dreaded words that no girlfriend ever wants to hear – was heard.
I swallowed, not wanting to look him in the eyes – his eyes just dug into my heart, piercing me with their strong color. We had been going out for three months since our last break up and I noticed a definite change of feelings from him. He used to be the domineering one of the relationship – the one who cared the most, who tried the most, who worried about us the most. But after I broke up with him, it seemed he was less interested, even though he agreed to come back to me. I was more paranoid that he would go back to Jaime – the hideous girl he went to after me. That just stirred me painfully from time to time. I hoped we'd never depart again, that I'd never give him the opportunity to go and be with her.
"I'm not sure if I love you anymore." I still remember the way the words thrashed my heart, as if he grabbed a knife and yanked it in there. You can't even begin to explain heartbreak, it's much deeper and much more hurtful then anyone can ever expect. You literally feel like your heart just had surgery, as if there it's just throbbing, irregularly.
"B-but, how can you say that?" I asked, biting my lip to fight back a stream of tears that were dying to run down my eyes. I never felt so weak, so susceptible to him until this very moment. It finally was vivid to me. ". . . It's her, isn't it?"
He looked ashamed in himself as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I've liked her this whole time – it won't go away. I'm sorry, Gabriella. I may have loved you a while ago, but I'm not sure if I still do."
The tears burned my eyes; I just couldn't push them away any further as his words stung me like a mosquito would if it was biting me. I pushed my ebony-colored bangs in front of my face, to conceal my eyes. "Her; the 7th grader." I said, as if it was the most absurd thing he could ever do. "Compared to me?" I blinked, not meeting his eyes, too angry to do so.
"You think you're so much better than her, don't you?" He suddenly huffed, sounding aggravated.
I closed my damp eyes for a second than looked back to him, taking in the resentment and infuriation that was located in those usual pensive eyes. I felt my heart shattering into one million pieces. "Yes." I whimpered, looking to the floor. "She could never love you the way I do."
"Whatever." He scoffed, now sounding upset. "This is done, Gabriella. You need to accept that she is better than you – you were just second choice when she rejected me, I figured you already knew that."
I let out a muffled sob, unable to control the sadness that was overwhelming me. "H-how? What has she done to beat out three years, Jason?"
"It was barely even two. And she doesn't act like a child over everything, like you do. You're so immature, I hate you." The words penetrated me for a second, as if time had stopped and left me at exactly what he said: he hated me.
I turned my back to him, the tears squeezing out of my eyes violently as he walked away, as if he had never said those horrible things to me, as if it had never happened. He had ripped my heart into pieces – he had scattered it all over the place. It seemed impossible to ever glue the pieces back together. Would every man treat me in such a disrespectful way after we spent two years together?
I stood at my locker, crying. I couldn't rejuvenate. I was so broken – so used and abused. Nothing could make me feel better. Positive thoughts were gone, and vague memories haunted me. I couldn't think of the bad memories, only the good memories, and that's what tore me apart even more. I thought of when he smiled at me, when he kissed me, when he loved me. And at the same time, I secretively blamed myself for breaking up with him once, for allowing him to get close to her, for letting him forget so easily about me.
And that day, I promised myself I wouldn't ever let a guy get that close to me, ever again.
End of Flashback.
After second hour, I headed to my locker, still troubled by the pesky memories that never seemed to fade away. I detested when guys said such harsh things to me. Troy only reminded me of how ignorant men can be – he only reminded me of what haunted me every single night. And at the same time, I had no idea why what he said meant anything to me, whatsoever. I didn't even know him.
Than again, I haven't been called any bad names like that since Jason, maybe that's why it panged me so much.
As I began to spin my locker combination, I felt a presence behind me. I turned around, gradually, and found myself facing two, familiar blue eyes. I groaned out loud and turned back to my locker, ignoring him completely.
"Gabriella – can't you hear me out, for like, two seconds?" He sounded desperate.
I didn't respond.
"Look, I didn't mean anything I said, alright? I was mad." He continued, the despondency only increasing in his voice.
I turned to face him, shocked at his relentless behavior. "Didn't you hear what I said earlier? That didn't offend you, at all?" I asked, baffled by his ignorance to my horrifying comment.
He looked glad I just responded in general though. "I don't care. I understand that you're upset, but I'm not that type of guy, Gabriella. Seriously, forgive me, please?" Why was he begging me to forgive him?
I just stared at him, confused. "Dude, what the hell? One day you're scared shitless of me, the next you can't stand me, now you're begging me to forgive you when it's obvious neither of us give a shit about each other? What is this, Troy?"
"I do." Troy told me, a solemn look on his face. "Everybody's human. I totally misjudged you. I mean, I'm not a bad guy, really. . . I don't usually say those things."
"I understand we're all mortals but that doesn't mean that we all have to be best friends and make peace with each other, John Lennon." I muttered, lifting an eyebrow. "Seriously, you're freaking me out. What's your motive here? Did your dad like pay you to apologize and make the world a better place or something?"
He looked annoyed when I said this. "There's no motive – I feel bad. I mean, you were crying . . . I don't like it when girls cry."
I rolled my eyes looking back to my locker, "Well shit, Tom Cruise, I wasn't crying over you, so don't go all head-ass on me."
He didn't seem affected by my comment. "I know, but still. . . I'm sorry."
"You said I was a whore, and that I'm basically ugly. And that nobody could ever like me, when obviously all your friends do." I snarled, just to piss him off.
He sighed, aggravated. "You're not a whore, you're not ugly, and yes, some people do like you." He sounded like he didn't want to say all of this, like he was dreading this whole situation. But at the same time, I knew he wasn't going to surrender.
"Well, shit, you didn't have to tell me that – I already knew that." I told him in a very cocky manner as I slammed my locker door shut, turning to face him. "Now why the hell are you saying all of this?"
He flickered his eyes away in irritation again. "Like I said, I feel bad."
"And you think just because you're hot as fuck I'm going to forgive you?" I inquired in a more sarcastic way, cocking an eyebrow at him as he looked back to me with a skeptical expression.
"I never said that. . ." He mumbled a bizarre look on his face.
"Well giving me googly eyes all during Intermediate Writing wasn't helping." I joked.
"Googly eyes?" He looked lost.
"Oh, please, you act like you're so subtle. It's extremely hard to not forgive someone who sits there and gives you puppy dog eyes the entire class and is obviously stalking you throughout the day."
"This isn't stalking." He looked so dead-serious it made me want to laugh.
"You're just not usually the first person I would expect to follow me around begging for forgiveness. I'm not Jesus, I'm just that girl you are scared shitless of, remember?" I reminded him, ignoring the frown he gave me. I sighed looking at his hopeless beautiful blue eyes. "I'll forgive you if you stop being so damn timid around me all the time – I'm not gonna rape you."
He folded his arms, "Fine; but I'm not timid."
"You are very timid."
"Am not." He pouted, like a child.
"Whatever Troy." I tightened my books in my hand. "And by the way, me forgiving you has nothing to do with the fact that you're really hot so don't get a big head over it, alright?" I smirked – that's pretty much the reason why I just forgave him, despite my good lying.
He didn't respond to me, so I made my way away from him, heading to my next hour. Strange man, that's what he was.
END OF CHAPTER
Well, dang. Troy apologized, what a good boy. And by the way 'head-ass' is another term for being stuck-up/conceited. Ha, I learned it from a friend so I thought it was a bit funny. Just to let you know though… give me some reviews and I'll put the next chapter in Troy's POV and we'll see what happens now that they're "cool" again. By the way, I love Gabriella in this – her personality amuses me. I'm basically obsessed with my own character. Strange, much?