A/N: What's up, world? It's me, obviously. I've been updating like crazy. But I've noticed a slight decrease in my reviews. What's up with that? Oh well. I'm gonna enjoy writing this chapter, I just know it. I hope you enjoy it as well, and leave me a review; it'd really make my day! Love, Whitney.

"But it's you I can't deny."

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

Gabriella's Mind-

At the end of the day I was more than anxious to watch the guys play some basketball. Thankfully, I managed to completely avoid Sharpay, for she was just becoming an annoying, squeaky, ranting bitch again. I mean, seriously, she just didn't get it. She didn't understand why I would forgive Troy after he said all that shit to me. Honestly, I was for certain she wanted him, still. She knew I was the only barrier that could avoid her from getting with him. Ha, maybe I should take that as a compliment – her feeling intimidated by me. But shit, as if, Troy was up his own ass, how could he ever notice someone like me?

I couldn't deny that he was hot. That would be like saying the sky isn't blue. That's just making me sound like an idiot. I really didn't care. I did not care. Nope, not even a little bit. I asked him to hang out because. . . well, I still think he'd be a joy ride in the bed. Fucking him like a virgin for the first time – how indomitable. He'd be timid, shy, and stiff. But at the same time, he'd be in awe of the pure ecstasy I could bring throughout him. Damn, why am I thinking like this?

I'm starting to believe it had something to do with the myriad amounts of sweat pouring out of their bodies. They all worked so roughly, so intense – the looks on their faces showed nothing but aggression. It was rather beckoning, but damn, those looks could kill a mother fucker if they kept on looking.

Jack, in all his glory, stood behind the lines, watching them like they were children who needed serious sanctuary all the time. The guy was so damn big – probably about 6"1' at least, and his fucking muscles were like that of a bodybuilder. He had the same petrifying, ocean-blue eyes as Troy, but the wrinkle lines made it evident that his charming looks had aged within time. He was watching Troy more than the rest of them – his face was unreadable though.

Troy, God, he was like a master of perspiration or something. I'm not sure why he was drenched more than everybody else – I'd assume it had something to do with the fact that he played more fervid than the rest, but still. . . it was a bit frightening. He would whip his hair out of his face, and it was like God's fucking blessing to earth. I'm telling you, it'd send any woman of normalcy to her knees. Me, I just smirked and imagined him naked. Ha, ha.

Chad got extremely jealous over everything. When he noticed my presence, he seemed to become more restive. Suddenly, he was on the edge, trying to steal every ball from Troy, attempting to shoot every hoop, in hopes to impress me. . . not to sound conceited, but damn, it was obvious. He was pissed off when Troy sent him to the floor, every single time. I'm shocked he wasn't in tears over his loss of pride.

Zeke, well, he was the lazy one. He would stand beside them and bellow at them – complaining about how they weren't giving him the ball all the time, or how they were wasting all their energy on a stupid practice. He didn't seem very interested in basketball at all. I'm guessing the only reason he was even here was because Troy and Chad were his best friends. Plus, let's all face it; once you're a player on the East High Wildcats basketball team, you're like a fucking totem to the rest of the school. Zeke may have repulsed me entirely, but I wasn't completely incoherent to the sight of him hitting on other girls and them reacting accordingly. He was on the team. I honestly thought the school was way too damn cliquey, way too preppy, and far too innocent. I mean, where were the bad asses with the millions of tattoos all over their bodies, and the rejects that just wanted to kill anything that existed? In New York, it was so easy to find them.

They finished within a haste of time. Troy was the one who clinched the game, as he swats yet another basketball through the hoop. It was obvious to more than just me that he was the best player there. The others seemed exhausted and sick of being showed up by him. Well, who would've guessed it, Mr. Perfect did absolutely-fucking-perfect?

I was about to go and congratulate them. Maybe I'd be a lame-ass and shake their hands like they did to me on the first day of school. I decided against it. There was a reason Troy wanted me to meet him behind the school – he knew Chad was more of the envious type. Hell, I didn't mean to be leading Chad on. I didn't mind it, him following me around like a puppy dog. I mean, he carried my books, and gave me company, why wouldn't I take that? Plus, his curls were cute. He was like Shirley Temple – as a guy. Fuck, I didn't just think that, did I? Oh geez. . .

Point I was making – that little shit would've probably busted a cap hadn't Troy thought intelligently. He was already grunting when Troy stole the ball from him.

They all darted for the locker room, practically jumping over each other. Seriously, ever heard of patience? They were like a stampede of wild elephants, or wild cats. And Troy, no, he couldn't stand to keep his shirt on, he was like, stripping it off as he jogged towards the locker room. Had he not been so fast, I might've been able to actually see the muscles in his shoulders. Ugh, such a head ass, I tell you.

God, I needed to get laid.

Great, now I sound like a horny man who needs to watch a porno and get off to gay guys and lesbians. What is wrong with me? I needed serious counseling. But even the counselor would look at me strangely if I just blurted out, "Yo, Holms, I need some help, ASAP. . . I've got these urges to fuck Troy Bolton, his jealous little friend, and a guy who wears pink pants. . ." Seriously, since when did I like guys that were more feminine? Ryan Evans was like the guy version of Sharpay.

It wasn't right.

I started heading out of the gymnasium when of course, I bumped into no other than Jack Bolton, all straight-legged and shit, like he had a cockroach up his ass. Yes, I have been talking to Zeke, leave me alone.

"Mr. Bolton!" Ah, what a pleasure – remember when I bawled you out so bad that you didn't know what to say? Hmm, good times, good times.

To my surprise, he didn't frown. "Gabriella. It's interesting to see you again. Interested in the boys' practicing? They work extra hard to beat out those cougars." I'm assuming he was referring to some unknown team.

"I've noticed – they're great." Now, I was going to go all kiss-ass, just so his son may become randomly captivated by me. Than, we can have the sweet, necessary sex I've been longing for. "I wanted to apologize about the other night, Mr. Bolton." Ha, man, I was kissing ass. . . go me. I put on this guileless smile and just tried to put myself back into the person I was when I was a church girl. "My comments were a bit unnecessary." Now, I sounded like a teacher. God help me.

"Oh? Well, actually, it's half my fault, really. . . I shouldn't have bragged so much. I just, I can't help but be proud – Troy, he's a great kid, always does what he's told. When I was a boy, I didn't get those kinda marks on my report cards; I didn't play basketball that good either. . ." Jack's facial expression changed – it seemed he was drowning in thoughts.

"Well, geez, I would be proud too – he does everything like perfect. It's amazing, really, and I'm not being sarcastic. He's so obedient – I wish I could be like that with my parents." Gabriella, you are the best liar ever.

"I was never like that with my parents either." Jack's face actually seemed to lighten up a bit, or maybe it was just because the sun was beaming through the windows. I'm not sure. He just seemed friendlier. It deranged me. "I just wish he'd be more. . . I don't know, fun? He looks unstoppable out there, but he's always so uptight, never has a good time. . . I'm not sure how to get him one either." I thought I heard him wrong when he said fun – Jack wanted Troy to be more easygoing? He wanted his son to chill out a bit?

"Whoa, wait." Now I was confused. "But I thought you're the one who always pushes him to work hard so in the end he can have his good time."

"Ah, well, see, his mother doesn't trust those boys. I'm not sure – Danforth's been around awhile, but that Zeke, he's a bit of trouble. . . I can tell." I could only chuckle when he said this. "I want him to have a social life. He's not experiencing everything to his full potential, I can tell that. . .and his relationship status worries me. . ." W. . .T. . F. . .

I just blankly stared at him. How was I to respond to something like that? Oh, well, yeah, your son is s virgin, how embarrassing, go play in traffic, you're a fucking disgrace and nobody likes you. Uh, no, but still. . .

"So, I'm sorry if he. . . well, acts a bit. . . reserved – he's just not so good with girls." It was almost as if he was implying that Troy and I were like involved in some weird other alien world or something. I was just muddled, and speechless. With me, that never happens.

"I mean, come on," A crooked grin appeared on his face, and I noticed that he and Troy shared the same cheek structure, and their grins appeared similar. God, that's fucking sick. Why am I scrutinizing this guy? "When I was his age, I was getting some every day." Wow.

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as I just gaped at him, "Whoa. . . that is so tight." And then my old self came back, the church girl leaving. "Mr. Bolton, you're cooler than I thought you were."

We clicked. That's how fucked up my life was right now – I was beginning to like Troy's dad, of course, no nasty thoughts. I may have wanted Mr. Messacar in my bedroom before, but Jack Bolton? Dude, I'm not demented.

"I keep telling Troy. . .he says there's no one around here. It seems impossible. I mean, the least he could do was settle down. . . I had my rowdy stage but than I found a woman, ironically, who's my wife now, and relaxed. . ." Why he was telling me this, I don't know. "My son is in an eclipse, I'm afraid he may never come out. I think he just needs someone to teach him a thing or two." He sighed, and I still just stood there, astounded.

Was he like, trying to get me to fuck with his son?

. . . Dude, this was jacked up in so many ways.

Though, I already intended on doing it.

"I know, trust me, I know. . . and his friends question his sexuality – no offense, because we all know he's not gay." I responded, quickly, as Jack began to grimace. "I'll do the honors if you like." Jackass, I must have been drunk.

But, good ol' Jack just laughed, "Well, I'm just explaining to you why my son's a bit restrained. I've had this conversation with many girls." I raised an eyebrow – girls asked him about Troy's love life? Wow, poor guy can't have any privacy. . .

Interrupting our conversation, someone cleared their throat, and we turned to find Troy Bolton, who was casually standing by the gymnasium's entrance, biting his bottom lip, as always. He gave us atypical looks, but refused to question. He was all clean now – his hair seemed darker as it was damp, and it clung to his forehead, he had to flip it just to move it. He was wearing a pair of baggy shorts that hung low, and a white t-shirt that endured his muscles nicely. He actually didn't have a basketball in his hands – I expected he would, little obsessive douche bags.

Jack didn't act guilty, though I kind of did, as I looked elsewhere, feeling a bit awkward for even making conversation with the guy's father. I mean, why would I even approach the guy? I completely told him off the other night, and tonight, I found out that he was cool as hell! Seriously, if Troy only knew that his dad wasn't even trying to pressure him. . . I figured it was routine.

Father and son exchanged glances. "Dad – I uh, planned on retaking a test for Mr. Rosenbaum's class, so I won't be home until late tonight."

Jack seemed careless, "Sure, you better get that C up though – that wasn't so smooth, Troy." He narrowed his eyes and Troy seemed to just enervate after looking into his father's eyes. He seemed embarrassed.

I pitied him.

His eyes caught onto mine, "Yeah, I know. . ." He scratched the back of his head, slowly backing up, as if about to leave, "Gabriella. . .hey." He managed out; extending a wave.

"Hey." I put on a small smile, secretly amused that he was embarrassed about a 'C'. Seriously, I was flunking practically everything and he was ashamed because he got a fucking 'C'.

And then, he did something in a rather subtle way – he gave me a slight wink and then nodded towards the door, as if hinting me to come with him. He began to walk away as my eyes rested on his father, "Well, it was nice talking to you Mr. Bolton; I should get going though. . . I have this family thing tonight, wouldn't want to miss that for the world." Ha, my family hated me.

"I'm sure you wouldn't." He just gave me an amicable grin. "Thank you for the apology, Miss Montez, I got a bit caught up, I'll admit."

"Bye." Ha, I felt pretty insane after taking a leap for the gymnasium exit.

Troy practically smothered me when he seen me. I wasn't complaining when he yanked me by the arm and pushed me into a corner, demanding why I was talking to his dad, and what I said, as if I must have somehow pissed his dad off.

"Damn, you look a bit sexy when you're pissed off, Troy. Is that even natural?"

The blue in his eyes only adumbrated, "Gabriella, seriously, what did you say to him? I don't think you realize that when he's in a bad mood, he takes it out on me."

"Troy, babe, its okay, chill out, take a shit or something, you're like hyperventilating, and I totally misjudged your dad – he's kind of really tight, like the tightest guy around, well, besides Lil Wayne, of course." I smirked. His eyebrows seemed to furrow when I said 'babe'.

He finally let go of the air he had been holding in dramatically, ". . . What did you talk about?" he asked, picking up his backpack and basketball bag. He began to walk, and I just followed behind, loyally.

"Why are you like, Mr. nosy ass all of a sudden? He basically told me that I should like fuck the living daylights out of you because you never get any pussy and it's starting to piss him off. Imagine having a son who is as beautiful as you and never gets any pussy – there's obviously something wrong." Now he was just staring at me, his ocean-blue eyes were huge, like bug eyes. Yeah, that was worth it.

It took him awhile to respond. After about a minute, he finally murmured, "You've. . . got to be joking." His eyebrows seemed to knit when he was annoyed, and his eyes kind of squinted. He was still hot though. Grrr. . .

"Nope; your dad wants you to want me."

Now he was just looking terrified. His eyes were still huge, but I swear, he must have been debating on whether I was joking or not, either that, or he was just a retard in general. He seemed to take me seriously.

Well, I didn't want him to like, pop a vessel. "Joking, I'm joking." I promised, chuckling in satisfaction. "You looked like you were going to have an aneurism. I didn't want to be the cause of that." I grinned at him, as he just groaned at me, heading towards the high school's front doors. "We're taking your car I'm guessing?" He was fiddling with his keys.

"Yeah. . ." He answered, distantly, as we encountered the heat.

"You did well out there; by the way, you totally blew away Chad and Zeke." I mentioned, as we strode towards the school's parking lot.

"Thanks." Monotonously – he seemed lost in thoughts or something.

Meh, men are fucking weird. I swear this guy was like a woman though. He had like hair that doesn't move, it just lied there, and his eyes, they sparkled, plus, his skin. . . it glowed! He didn't look like those disgusting, over-baked Abercrombie models that made out with each other in their spare time and waxed their wieners. No, he naturally wasn't a fucking mannequin. He just looked good – he never smelled bad, he never had anything out of place. I mean, seriously. . .

I've never met a guy that just doesn't have flaws. His entire body was PERFECT.

I wished I could have said that about his car though.

"Wait. . . this is your ride?" I almost shit myself right than and there. He must have been joking. No way would he drive this – he might as well put on a bandana and go dance on cars while he's at it. Ha, geez, how Zac Efron of me to think of that.

He needed a hillbilly accent. Or maybe he could just say he was Bella Swan. Yeah, that'd work, you see, he got the thing from Billy, it was a present, and Jacob Black's in the back, about to eat him. To make it fair, Edward Cullen is next to Jacob, wanting to suck the blood out uh… something.

Damn it, I need to stop listening to people and their little obsessions with Twilight.

Well, when all comes to hell, Carlisle can save us, he's a fucking gorgeous doctor.

Ah, stop, stop.

Troy's like going on and on, I haven't even been listening. "What?" Ha, now, he's like, pissed, and I can tell. Sorry, I was just daydreaming about Rob Pattinson and Taylor Lautner, don't mind me. . .

"I know. . . I've been working to save enough money for the real thing. . ." He repeated, louder.

"That's weird. . .but your dad is like Bill Gates, and your house is like Neverland."

"Well, I have to work to earn my keep, supposedly." Troy slid into the driver's seat, and I had to literally force myself into the passenger's seat of this junky old truck. The paint job was fucked.

"Are you sure this thing even runs?" Ha, I'm so fucking blunt.

He took it offensively, and just bit his bottom lip, not looking at me, ". . . Sometimes. . ."

"Oh, sweet Jesus, we are fucked." I muttered, leaning back so my head was looking up to the top of the truck – that even looked shitty.

"And why are you mixing up Bill Gates and Michael Jackson?" He suddenly asked, as he started up the car – it seemed to roar as it came to life. Ha, it was like a beast. It was the grossest thing I've ever witnessed.

"I dunno. MJ needs some friends." I shrugged, beginning to shuffle through my bag. "Does that radio work?" I asked, my eyes gazing up from the bag.

". . . Sometimes." Troy answered, again. He looked to me curiously, his eyes occasionally wandering back to the road.

I pulled out my iPod. Yes, I have like OCD with this thing – it always has to come with me, everywhere. Usually I get to rock out in my mom's Civic, so it works. Fortunately, Troy had the right compartment, and I had the tool that connects everything. Shut up, you do it too.

"Do you mind?" I inquired – not wanting him to flip the edge because of music. I knew some guys who would practically pummel me just because I turned off their music and put my own on. Seriously, guys are fucking harebrained.

"Not at all – just no. . . you know, Spice Girls or something." He seemed to cringe at the mention of the name.

"Dude, you don't even know me at all, do you? That's like Sharpay music. I'm like the complete opposite of Sharpay." I reminded him, as I looked through my list of songs.

"Yeah. . ." He seemed a bit uncomfortable at the thought of my music blasting throughout his car. I'm guessing he thought it would either be some girly, squeaky chick that doesn't know how to sing, or some death metal band that talks about worshipping Satin and making the world a horrible place.

Nah, I was thinking more of the two best rappers in the world – Lil Wayne and Kanye West. Mm, my favorite men nowadays, I couldn't resist. My eyes were on Troy, "You aren't like, against rap are you?"

"I don't really listen to it. . ." His eyes didn't meet mine. "Rap and country aren't really my genres, I guess."

I rolled my eyes, "You are seriously missing out on the pleasures of life, Troy Bolton." I plugged my IPod into the compartment, looking through my songs. I knew what I wanted to play; I knew exactly what I wanted to play.

Playing with Fire by Lil Wayne came onto the stereo. I was shocked that Troy's bass was so fucking tight. I smirked as Weezy F's sexy voice came on the speakers and my eyes broke to Troy, curious to his reaction.

He seemed skeptical, and had the most erratic look on his face. I couldn't help but chuckle, and the way he looked surprised when Lil Wayne said pussy. He acted so green, so naïve to everything. He really was a virgin, wasn't it?

"Assassinate me bitch." I rapped along with, smirking.

Troy's eyes fluttered over to me, that same strange look on his face. And Weezy goes on saying pussy a few more times.

But you can't blame me if I set this stage on fire.

"You can't say you don't like this." I gave him murdering eyes and he just chuckled a little – a cute smile half-visible on his face as he turned back to the road. "Come on; let Tha Carter III take you over."

He made a face as I changed it to another song by Lil Wayne, one of my personal favorites, and one I knew he would make faces about – Pussy, Money, Weed.

I sighed in pleasure – I loved Weezy. I began to dig through my purse, in search for a cigarette. Troy's eyes came upon me and I felt his stare as I faced him, his eyes giving me a lecture I didn't need.

I pulled the cigarette out, carelessly, and pulled down the window, letting the sweet intoxication respire into me. My eyes closed as I breathed out the smoke, and I felt Troy's eyes on me again. I'm not sure whether he was pissed off or whether he was thinking sexy thoughts. HA! Yeah.

I allowed my head to drift out the window, where I exhaled more smoke.

Oh yes I love her like pussy, money, weed, pussy money weed, pussy, money, weed.

"So, what's your input, I can see you over there, freaking because someone said the word pussy in a song." I grinned, my eyes closing – I was so addicted to smoking, I don't think I could quit now if I wanted to.

"Ha, ha." He didn't look back at me. "You're smoking in my car."

"This is a car? I thought it was a wagon." I joked, my eyes on him.

"I'll admit, despite the language, yeah, the beat was good. . ." The weirdest thing that Troy Bolton has ever said – it appeared right there. I thought I misheard him. I raised an eyebrow. Was he saying that he actually thought Lil Wayne's music was . . . tight?

"You liked it?" I was stunned.

"I'm not sure if that's the word, but it was alright." Still, he didn't look at me.

"Hmm. . ." I was lost in my thoughts, as we pulled into my driveway.

"My dad won't be home until late, so he won't notice the truck." Troy promised, as we both got out of the car. Seriously, he didn't even attempt to open the door for me. What a jackass, right?

As we walked in, a grin appeared on my face – Troy Bolton was in my home, with me, and none of my parents were home. No, I wasn't going to rape him, nor was I going to seduce him. Flirting isn't a bad thing though, is it? I mean, it couldn't hurt. Maybe I could get him to come onto me now.

END OF CHAPTER

Sorry for such a bad chapter. It's so long though, and I felt like it wasn't. I wanted more than just the Lil Wayne scene but whatever. How does Troy feel? How will they connect, if they haven't already? Review and find out. Love, Whitney. Oh, and sorry about the language. It's rated 'M', so you really shouldn't get offended. :P