"She would change everything for happy ever after, caught in the in between a beautiful disaster.

She just needs someone to take her home."

-JON MCLAUGHLIN

Troy's Mind

"You don't have to babysit me, you know." Gabriella grinned, mockingly.

I guess I was being pretty obsessive about this whole situation. I mean, she seemed perfectly sober now, she seemed like she didn't need any help. I was positive she was going to just pass out from all that alcohol but she didn't. She was back to her normal self.

She sat on a couch - one of her feet propped on its cushions, tucked underneath the other in a more Indian style of sitting. The other leg was lazily on the floor. Her face seemed paler than usual but she still looked good in her skirt and shirt. I could see her panties almost. I tried my hardest not to notice that. The curls in her hair never mangled. That was amazing. She had taken the rag off of her head. The bottoms of her eyelids hinted smears of eyeliner and mascara though. But shockingly enough, the girl still looked so hot I could barely stand it.

I sat in a chair that angled to her couch. My legs spread out casually, my ankles crossing. I leaned back in the chair, at loss for words, as usual. There were two reasons why I was lingering - one, I was afraid to encounter my dad at this time of night, and two, I actually didn't want to leave Gabriella's side. I felt like she needed comfort, despite her temperate condition. I think I just realized that behind all that arrogance she tried to portray, there was some insecurity. I figure it was her parents neglecting her, possibly her ex-boyfriend, or ex-boyfriends. I knew some guy really hurt her, some Jason guy. I have no idea why but the thought of it actually pissed me off. I didn't know the exact story but it must have been pretty bad, bad enough to make Gabriella distance herself from 'feelings' or whatever. I knew well enough that what had happened tonight in Zeke's room meant nothing to her. She probably didn't even remember now. She was out of her mind drunk and I happened to be the dumb guy who began to grind on her. I really will make a mental note to behead Zeke next time I see him, him and his drink concoctions. I really couldn't drink. That was just not a good thing for me. I let really hot girls like Gabriella take off my clothes. I guess that wasn't a bad thing to most guys. I mean, if Zeke were here, he'd be very enthusiastic. But to me, it wasn't all good - the pleasure seemed indescribable but the thing that got me was Gabriella herself. I was pretty stupid for thinking so compulsively about her, for getting all jittery when she was around. I've come to realize that it wasn't just hormones; I actually had the thought that maybe - just maybe I had a crush on her. I can't say it was normal for me either. I mean, yeah, there were many girls I've had crushes on, but this was so different. It was like every second, every freaking second I longed for something. And then when there'd be those moments, where she'd be talking, and it was amazing . . . it wasn't just all smirks, winks, and flirts. With Gabriella, there was so much more and when those moments happen, it's like, I get these butterflies, and it's so embarrassing to think about, yet alone tell her. Not only do I want her physically, but it's like my heart actually does something too.

I shifted my position on the chair. I didn't want to feel this way. I mean, for her, it was just a fun game, something to mess around with until she found someone better or something. I wanted to believe I stood a chance of her feeling something but that seemed like praying for a miracle. And I don't pray, despite how many times my parents have forced me into church, wearing my good shirt and slacks and making me sing along to the hymns. Yeah, I'd hate to mention my perfect, conservative family also is very religious. Me, I was just on my own. I didn't really have any strong beliefs. My parents thought I abided by the bible. I just don't think I could ever believe in something I can't see. It was like what love was to me. I didn't really believe in it. I mean, I figure people really exaggerate. And sometimes, it seems people are compelled into liking someone - whether it's their parents, their friends, their reputation, or maybe even themselves. I think that people can actually convince themselves they're in love. That sounds really stupid, I know. But think about it - people are obsessed with the idea of having someone to hold, someone to lean on, or even just someone to well . . . have sex with. And our society just continues to promote it with our cliché movies and our fairytale books. I've seen about fifty people in the passed month with a Twilight book. The reason why girls love that book so much is because Edward Cullen is the perfect fantasy of what they want; it's the perfect match, whatever. Girls like to think maybe one day they'll meet someone like him. That's not possible though. I mean, this is the real world, not some daydream. If I was a girl, I'd probably like the guy too. (No, I'm not saying I'm like Clay Aiken.) I'm just saying . . . man-crush, maybe? Yeah. But these things really advertise love, and I'm thinking it could be something to hold onto for hope, but you'd be holding onto nothing. It's just a crazy fantasy. Once someone's accepted the fact that not everyone's perfect and that love is a one in a million type of a thing, I think they're ready to get involved. Me, I'm not exactly waiting around, but it seems like I'll never feel something like that for someone. I've never met someone who really stands out from the crowd, someone who I can talk to, someone I'd probably do anything for just because I'm so powerless against them, someone who's my own weakness, someone who makes me happy. Gabriella did all those things. But love doesn't develop that quickly. And I just couldn't love her. The feelings would be one-sided.

"It's so cold in here." She interrupted my deep thoughts, a frown on her face.

I met her eyes, "I'll get you a blanket if you want?" What was this side of me? I mean, she did give me a great blow job, but my sudden eagerness to please her seemed almost annoying.

"There's none up here."

"Well, you shouldn't get cold, I mean, you might begin to feel lightheaded or sick again." I told her, sounding more like a father than an eighteen year old. My next gesture seemed way beyond normal beliefs. It was something a boyfriend would do, something that shouldn't be done in such a short matter of time. I began to slip out of my black and navy-blue Diesel hoodie and I noticed her eyes seemed to widen with surprise when I handed her it, now just in a t-shirt.

With a strange look on her face, she accepted it, scrutinizing it like it was life threatening, "You know, you really don't have to offer this, I mean, I could have just gone upstairs and got something."

"Yeah but you were throwing up so you shouldn't be moving a lot." I bit my bottom lip as I watched her fit her small arms through the sweatshirt. Yeah, it was big on her, and yeah, this wasn't exactly the best idea. I was really kissing ass. But she looked better in it than I could have ever.

"Mm, you smell good," She said, "what's your secret?" She had the sweatshirt on.

"I shower." I answered, truthfully. I didn't have specific cologne.

She seemed amused by this though and began to laugh at me, "Well I'd hope to God . . . you're being way too nice to me, you know. I'm not saying you're not acting like my dad either, because you're like a damn patrol officer." She smiled. "But you could have left me at the party."

"That'd be stupid. You looked like a ghost. You needed someone's help."

"I'm sure I could have managed."

"Sometimes it just feels better to just give in." I told her.

Her smile didn't fade, "Taking Back Sunday lyrics? Well, I'll be damned," She laughed, "now, you just gotta start quoting Lil Wayne."

I scratched the back of my head, "You know, I really don't think Little Wayne--"

"Lil." She corrected, cutting me off.

"That's what I said. . ."

"You said little, as in, tiny, its lil." She seemed fascinated by this argument.

"It means the exact same thing." I worded absentmindedly, not even really thinking about it.

"But the spelling and pronunciation is totally different." She added. "You are living in a black society, Troy, never disrespect the gangster rappers."

I just stared at her, furrowing my eyebrows, "That's disrespectful?" I blinked.

"Dude, that's like calling a straight person Clay Aiken." I really love how we can't find anyone else to make fun of here.

"What's up with you guys and Clay Aiken?" I asked.

"I'm serious; gangsters take their names very seriously, Troy." She actually sounded serious. I wanted to laugh. She seemed to sigh in a more tired way and her eyes didn't break away from my own. "You know, you seriously don't half to piddle around here. . . I know you're worried about your dad freaking out on you."

"I'm not really worried about it," I told her honestly, ignoring how her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "I'm already late . . . why speed up the time it'll take for me to get lectured?"

She chuckled, "You know, it surprises me that you don't have a girlfriend, Troy. You seem so . . . committed with everything; you'd probably be the best boyfriend anyone could have."

I became speechless on her comment. I've never been necessarily a bad boyfriend to someone. I mean, I usually went the whole ten yards and everything - the teddy bears, the flowers, the candies, and the 'song dedications'. Maybe that's why girls started acting up whenever they got involved with me. Maybe I just moved to fast - maybe I went too far on those things. I always thought of myself as an excellent boyfriend but to actually think about it, there's always a reason none of them work out. Maybe I was the reason.

"Troy?" Her voice jerked me out of my thoughts - she looked almost concerned. I realized I must have been frowning, or just spacing out in my mind. "That was . . . supposed to be a compliment." Her lips were curled up in a half-smile.

"Yeah, I know, I just . . . sorry, I kind of . . . blacked out there." I scratched the back of my head. I realized that it had become a bit easier to be in Gabriella's presence, maybe a bit easier to talk to her, but still, I couldn't just voice my thoughts, despite how curious she looked. My own problems didn't concern her.

"I mean, really though, you're sweet, and with that package, damn, boy." It was weird, because usually she'd have that smirk on her face when she said those kind of things, but instead, she looked dead-serious, the smile off of her face. It's as if she was confused on why I didn't have a girlfriend, why I wasn't involved with someone.

"Most things don't work out." I admitted, reluctantly. ". . . What about you?"

She looked as if she was about to burst into laughter. "Me? Can't you tell that my love life is a curse? I have guys beating each other up and everything because of my dramatic friend spreading shit she shouldn't be spreading."

I couldn't disagree with that one. Chad and I really shouldn't have gotten into that fight. He really was acting immature about it.

"Guys like Chad and Ryan and Zeke," I began, not really thinking about what I was saying, "they have no idea what they're doing . . . they don't even know what they feel about you, they just think you're attractive, and that's really annoying." I blushed, realizing that I just disregarded the fact that she was sitting next to me practically.

She didn't take it harshly but she looked rather confused, "Why is that annoying? And I thought Chad was going to propose to me, actually." She seemed to laugh in a drier, hollow way.

"Did you want him to?" I blurted out. I literally slapped my forehead, feeling completely stupid, "God, never mind, that was a stupid question - I have no idea why I'm asking you personal questions."

"Its okay, Troy, you can ask me anything, I really don't care," She seemed entertained by my embarrassment as usual; "I hate guys who hover - Chad was like a damn puppy dog, always following me around and shit."

"Well, it's just . . . he doesn't even know you, at all." I added, grimacing.

She only smiled, thoughtfully, "Apparently not . . . but most guys are better off not knowing me. It's a problem when someone does know me."

"Gabriella, are you kidding me? I feel like I know you pretty well, and that's not a problem. I mean, I believe there's more to you than just what they think. . ." God, said the poetic, sensuous thing again . . . what in the world was I trying to do? Embarrass myself? I nearly turned my head the other way, hoping she wouldn't notice how humiliated I was.

"You really think so?" She asked breathlessly from beside me. I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn't want to reply, it'd just sound even more mindless. "Do you . . . have a crush on me, Troy?"

My eyes widened as I turned to face her again, tongue-tied. How did she have any idea of . . . anything? I suddenly tensed, not knowing how to respond. I might have, but what did it matter? She didn't like me, she just wanted to do stuff with me, or whatever, have something to brag about, I guess.

"It's just, you get all weirdly nervous sometimes, I mean you're always timid and shit around me, and then sometimes you just go off into some Disney land and start saying well. . . rather sweet things, and I mean. . . it's really cute if you do, but I mean, I'm not exactly the best for anybody."

"Will you stop saying that?" I asked, almost angrily. I couldn't stand how the girl continued talking so lowly of her. I mean, she was normal; she was like any other person. She just got hurt really badly at one time or something. . .

"I don't care what's happened to you, or what's happening now, Gabriella. It's just, there's times when you start talking, and it just goes beyond what you normally say - you just. . . you become this amazing, deep, emotional girl, I mean, you're really smart, you could do anything with your life if you just could get over the past. . ."

"Don't try and act like you know me so well Troy," She suddenly snapped, her voice rotten and venomous, "you don't know shit about my past, you don't know anything about my problems, or why I act the way I do."

My eyes were on her, incredulous to her comment, "You're joking, right? Gabriella, just because some guy hurt you once doesn't mean that everybody's out to get you. Obviously he was kind of a douche if he dumped someone like you, right?" The words came out so quickly, I couldn't take them back. I almost regretted it.

Her furious eyes softened a bit when she looked back up at me. She seemed surprised by my statement and almost a bit touched by it. "Troy. . . I'm the one who broke up with him. He . . . he found another girl and I got jealous. I went back to him. . . I went back to him, desperate, like a fucking child. . . I cried, I begged. He told me no. . . ." I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes - I realized she must have never spoken of this before to anyone else. "I fucking begged for him. And finally, after he told me off, told me he hated me so many times, he came back to me. And then ended up leaving me for her in the end - saying she was so much better than me, this little, trashy thirteen year old slut. . . better than me. . ."

"That's stupid, Gabriella, you can't possibly believe that, can you? You can't just be holding a grudge on yourself because of some guy who obviously was so immature that he had to go to someone younger to be satisfied . . . you can't beat yourself up over something that pitiful." I told her, painfully. It bothered me so much - the way she was so upset over some jackass.

"I can't. . . I haven't liked any guys since then, I just. . . I can't, I'm so scared. I feel like if I do, I'll fall in love, then end up making the same mistake - letting them go, letting them find some fucker to compare me to, to realize she's better than me--" She was practically bawling her eyes out. I've never seen a girl cry so hard in my life, and it almost made me want to cry. God, I mean, really, the girl was a mess - she looked broken in every form possible. And I wanted to kill the guy that screwed her over so badly. For some reason, I just wanted to help her; I wanted to hold her. . . God, I was an idiot. "Because anyone's better than me, anyone is better."

"Gabriella, don't say that. . ." I pleaded - I couldn't handle her crying any longer.

"It's just what do I do? You have dreams, you have aspirations, and you have hope. What the fuck do I have? I have nothing. I have myself. What kind of hope is that? My life is practically over - I'm stuck here for the rest of my life. I won't be able to get a career, to get a fucking job. . . I'll be an old lady and I'll die alone and. . . ."

My throat was drying - I couldn't stand it any longer. I felt like I was going to seriously cry, like I felt so vulnerable at that moment, watching the girl cry. I found myself moving over to her, desperate to comfort her in some way, to make her alright again. I've never been in this situation and I've never felt this horrible before in my life, and I didn't know why I felt so bad about her life and her problems. Most guys would have just walked out the door and said fuck it, but I couldn't. I was absorbed in the sadness she emitted, I just wanted to make her happy, and that was so messed up. But I wasn't any better of a person than she was. I mean, I was living in a life I could never control. I was living a dream that didn't belong to me. I felt as if I'd be in a spot where I wouldn't want to be.

She had her eyes cradled in her hands, and she was trembling - her entire body shaking, her knees propped up on the couch, sobbing into her lap. I took a seat next to her, and put my arm around her cautiously. Instantly, I could feel her take notice of my presence and she leaned her head against my shoulder, crying even harder. I tried to keep my face straight but the girl was making me feel so heartbroken. "Gabriella," I said to her, as she continued crying on my shoulder, "it's really alright, try to calm down, I mean, that won't happen. . ." I didn't know what to say - I wasn't good with words, I never have been.

"I just don't know what to do, I'm just scared Troy, I know I'm messing up my life, I know I break everything I touch, and that I hurt anyone I get to know. . . I'm so sick of it, like. . . I hurt you too." Her wet eyes looked up to me, apologetically. It was more than just an apology though - it was just sincere regret.

"Gabriella, I don't care about that anymore - I mean, my dad . . . he's a dick." She seemed to chuckle lightly at my wording.

"I wish I could just. . . at least talk to my fucking parents though. . . it's like, you could if you really wanted to, your dad gets you, my parents don't even want to accept that I belong to them. . ." She whispered, now falling into my chest. I found my arms magically wrapping around her and she pulled me into a full-embrace, discharging all of her worries onto my shoulder.

"I'm sure they would, I'm positive they would," I told her quietly, "Gabriella, please stop crying. . . I hate when people cry."

"I don't cry. . . I never feel anything, I'm just . . . a horrible person. I wanna care, I wanna be needed, I wanna be loved, you don't know how bad." She told me, her voice shaking with emotion.

". . . I care about you, Gabriella, okay?" I said into her ear and I felt her release her grip from me suddenly, her eyes locking to my own, in such a mess, I could barely make out their colors.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do." I confirmed, unsure of whether it was the right thing to say but for that second in time my mind wasn't exactly on the same page as my heart. My heart kind of took over. "I know that you're hurt and that's okay, if you need to talk to someone, you can talk to me. . . I get what it's like not being able to live your dreams, Gabriella. I'm gonna be stuck in Harvard as a lawyer . . . that wasn't what I dreamt of when I was a kid. . ."

"I've been such a mess tonight . . . you've been here for me, and I have no clue why, but thanks Troy . . . you shouldn't let your dad control your dreams. If you want to do something else, you can, you have a scholarship, and you have money, fuck what your dad says." She sounded so serious, looking me in the eyes, a sudden genuineness in them.

"It's just, I had these stupid dreams to go to California, UCLA or something, play some basketball, you know? And you know, just hang-out, figure out what I'm gonna do when I get there, take a few classes. . ."

"Do it, Troy, you have the potential."

I rubbed my forehead, "But you do too, give yourself some credit, I mean, if you actually care, then let me help you out, I'll help you with a test, or something. . ."

"Troy, stop," She commanded, shaking her head. She grabbed my hand, her eyes never leaving mine - I felt something I've never felt before, something . . . well, something amazing, and something I couldn't really put in words. Any other time I would have jerked away but something tonight was changing inside of me, and I wasn't too positive on what it was or why, but something was. "I'm not that dedicated . . . that's not me, you know that. And you need to stop being so nice to me . . . you're far too open to see the good things in people . . . you're like an angel or something. I've never met someone so . . . close to being perfect." She seemed shocked at her own words.

I felt all the breaths inside of me just leave all at once, and something inside of me just burned - like I was desperate for her. I swallowed, moving close to her, my eyes shutting almost naturally. I could hear her breathing heavily, and I trailed my tongue down the top of my lip, the want and the need getting the best of me. It's all I could think about, and I couldn't stand waiting any longer.

"Gabriella, just. . ." I whispered, knowing she was holding back. It was bizarre because it was as if she was afraid to kiss me, and I couldn't understand why. She could go down on me but she couldn't kiss me. I wondered if that meant something more to her, but I still felt lost. I opened my eyes and found her just looking at me with troubled eyes. I gently placed my hand on the lower side of her face, closing my eyes. Our noses were touching and I could feel her hot breath on my face again. I became suddenly nervous and I couldn't explain why. I felt a rush of adrenaline come through me and my heart began to beat repeatedly.

And then, I felt her quivering lips meet mine, softly, and I felt so incredibly happy that it confused me more than anything. Her kiss was light but seemed to be better than any other kiss I've ever experienced. I suddenly forgot about what she might have felt, what my head was saying, and I just felt something I haven't felt in awhile, actually something I've never felt. . .

Her breathing seemed unsteady as did mine and I almost felt like the idea was just as nerve-wracking for her as it was for me. But for some reason, it eased my mind a bit more, feeling as though neither of us had full control on this. I had these stupid, pitiful butterflies and I felt like I was flying. God, Zeke would make fun of me so bad if he ever found out I felt this way. Anyone would. I felt so . . . sensitive all of a sudden, all because of some girl who was just too attractive to resist.

She broke out of the kiss and I exhaled for the first time when she looked into my eyes again. "Troy, you need to get home, really. You're going to get killed."

I sighed, realizing she was right, and for once - I was being the stubborn one. I swallowed the uncomfortable lump in my throat and ignored that my heart was still beating fast. "Right, you're . . . you're right. . ." I rubbed the back of my neck, biting my bottom lip and getting up from the couch. Her eyes followed me, and I looked down to her, unsure of what to say.

"I'll see you later, Troy." She said in this new tone I've never recognized before - meaningful maybe, tender. I couldn't explain it, I just watched her, beginning to walk backwards towards the door. I almost tripped on a shoe that was on the ground and I heard her giggling at me.

God, I needed to just get it together.

I moved my hands through my hair and headed out, closing the door behind me. I just stood there on the doorstep for like five minutes, unsure of what just happened. And then I just felt ridiculously pleased, and I smiled.

Yeah, tonight was definitely worth it.

END OF CHAPTER

N/A: Did it make you laugh, smile, cry? Because I actually almost cried when I was writing and I felt stupid because of it. It was my favorite chapter to write though, just because Gabriella really gave herself and her mind to Troy. I hope you understand her a bit more now and get why she's so reserved about things. And Troy, getting excited, I dunno I was like imagining it and I thought it was cute. By the way, check out the cool piano solos of Right here Right now and Gotta go my own way on Youtube, they're beautiful. And I was listening to the main piano melody from Forrest Gump too. . . and some Debussy. Yes, I was in the piano mood. I don't know. :p I may have listened to some Twilight lullabies too if you get me. Oh, and this is a bit random, but I love Zac Efron. I thought everyone should know, he's awesome. Really. If you don't know anything about him go watch his interviews or something. Seriously. He'll become like someone you want to go hang out with. HAHA. Okay, Whitney, shut up. I'm done. Love, all. REVIEW.