"You've got me to hold you up.

And I will never let you down."

-THE VERONICAS

Gabriella's Mind-

Everything was messed up.

Why? Because of Troy Bolton.

I have this rule, it's something I live my life by, something I don't like to break the routine of, it's called not caring, and I've done a damn good job of it until now.

I woke up on the couch, feeling rough and as if I hadn't slept in a month. I could only remember bits and pieces of what happened last night. The main parts were the feelings that seemed to be forming over the time I was talking to Troy. And that was never a good thing. Never a positive point.

He cared. . . why? And I cared that he cared. It was pathetic. I shouldn't care. He was a boy. A stupid, immature, careless boy. Boys shouldn't be allowed to act as if they care. But with Troy. . . it wasn't an act. No, it was real. It was more than real. It was almost passionately real. He was concerned about me - the hopeless, impetuous girl who says way too much when she's tipsy. See, I have mood changes when I'm drunk - I go from stupid and crazy to emotional and pitiful.

He acted as if I actually had something to live for - something worth it, some good reason to wake up in the morning. But that wasn't true at all. I never had any value, I never had anything that could make my days less miserable. No, I had love once but it slipped away because neither of us were mature enough to handle it. And the way the boy broke me seemed to leave me in a state where I have become stuck in this rut, in this hole, and I just can't seem to climb out. I was still waiting for my prince in shining armor to come and help me out. I was still waiting for my fairytale ending, my happily ever after. But that'd never come. My dreams were crushed, my ambition, lost in the wind somewhere, and now I was just stuck in a giant eclipse, no one to guide me, no one who cared, and then suddenly, Troy was holding me in his arms, letting me cry on his chest.

And I cried.

I cried like a baby, like a newborn child - as if I was lost and confused, unsure of where I'm at. But he didn't judge me. He didn't seem the slightest aggravated, or appalled. He just sat there, holding me, telling me that he was here for me, that he understood my pain. But how could he understand my pain? I was so neurotic, so trivial about everything. I made everything seem so dramatic when it wasn't. I was just a girl who's kept her feelings inside for far too long and I needed someone to talk to. And Troy, he opened his arms - offered me a shelter, and of course, I accepted it. It was magical. He was magical. Like some sort of angel, he made everything better, put back a few of the broken pieces. The agony seemed to disappear for a little while. All that mattered was his words. What he was saying.

I told him I wanted to be needed, I wanted to be loved. Of course I did. I was lonely, I was set apart from the world it seemed. I mean, who wants to sit around and sleep with people they don't know for the rest of their lives? Everybody wants someone to love them. It wasn't that senseless, me saying something like that. But as I clung onto his chest and he whispered into my ear that he cared, I realized something, something that shouldn't ever cross my mind, but it did.

I was falling for Troy Bolton.

Why? Damn it, I don't even know. If I could explain the fucked up situation, I really would. Any normal person would tell you, it's pretty cliché that I'd fall for someone like him. He wasn't hard to like. He was actually very easy to like. Everybody liked him. He was the big-shot at school, the most gorgeous guy in school, and he wasn't a little cocky bitch about everything either. He had some sort of heart in him. He aided to me when he knew I could have taken care of myself. Or some other person could have helped me. Instead, he offered his own support. He was the good guy, the nice guy that finished last. It made sense now. He was too nice. . . too sweet. When did those guys ever get any credit? Never. When did they ever find their Cinderella's? Never. And I definitely wasn't his Cinderella.

But I wanted to be.

Wow. It was all so hazy and bizarre now - feelings, emotions, my heart, the beat was erratic, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. I mean nothing. I just lied on that couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering what was going on, wondering what was wrong with me, what lead me to actually give a shit about someone. Why did I open my door now, out of all times? And why him? Because he's sweet, yet naïve? Because he doesn't have the intentions of just getting in my pants? Because he's willing to listen to me and console me through the bull shit that doesn't matter?

Yes.

The sunlight was shining in through the windows. I knew my parents had already gotten up and headed to work. They obviously seen nothing strange about me sleeping on the couch. Or they just didn't care to notice. Whatever. It didn't really matter to me anyways. I just couldn't stop thinking about things that were happening to me - images that were popping into my mind. Troy's ocean-blue eyes, and the way they seemed to be the only thing I could see in the dimness of the living-room last night. And then it all hit me when I looked down. I was still wearing his sweatshirt. It seemed inevitable - the smell of him just crept up on me. And the addiction of it seemed irresistible.

I commanded myself to stop. I couldn't just sit here, obsessing over a pretty boy who probably just felt sympathy for me. Right. Sympathy. Yeah, I didn't even believe what I was trying to convince myself. I was positive almost ninety-nine percent that he cared about me in some irrational way. And the kiss. The kiss just brought me to my knees. It was a weakness I haven't felt in a long time. A weakness that pissed me off and I tried to set it aside, forget it happened, but when I watched Troy head towards the door, I could see the smile playing across his lips, as if the kiss had affected him in some positive way. He was pleased. Why the hell did that make me so happy?

I forced my eyes open and pulled the covers off of me, getting up from the couch. I couldn't just sit around and dwell on it. That was just dumb. I decided to hop into the shower. I then got out and let my hair dry, forming natural dark curls from some mousse. I then applied some makeup and threw on a pair of jean shorts and a halter top. I grabbed my headphones and IPod and headed outside, desperate to just feel a nice breeze.

The humidity was horrible, but I ignored it as I took a seat on the porch, putting my headphones in and raising the music until I couldn't hear anything around me.

I feel so untouched and I want you so much and I just can't resist you.

The Veronicas sure had a nice way of putting things.

My eyes closed as the sun beat down on my face. Maybe I could get a decent tan or something, I hoped. But as I opened my eyes again, I realized that Troy's big old truck had just pulled into the driveway. I assumed he had just gotten off of work.

He didn't realize I was outside. I took off my headphones for a second and watched him as he slammed the door shut. A frown was present on his perfect face as he whipped his hair out of his eyes. That was fucking hot. And he was wearing his usual straight legged jeans and a plaid shirt that rolled up to his elbows. If anyone could pull off plaid well, it was Troy Bolton.

His face was drenched in sweat so I figured he must have been in the heat all day. He still looked really hot though. I couldn't help but just watch the guy, I mean, he was fucking beautiful, strutting his shit without even knowing how beautiful he really was. He didn't even realize I was behind him, admiring his every movement.

"Well, good afternoon," My snide comment made him jump instantly as he turned around to face me, shock written all over his face.

"Gabriella," He breathed almost too quiet for me to hear. He seemed to be searching for the right words, as usual, tongue-tied.

"I'm doing fine if you were wondering - no hangover," I smirked, as if I had accomplished something great, "I see you're still alive, so Jack didn't murder you or anything. . ."

He sighed, heavily, "Yeah. . . guess not," He bit his bottom lip as if contemplating something, "I think he really does like you. . . I mentioned you and he instantly didn't mind that I was out late."

I chuckled, "Told you we had a bond, me and Jack are tight," I tried to display the relationship with my two fingers. "Look. . ." I got up from the porch where I was sitting and moved closer to him as he stood in front of his front door. "Thanks for. . . helping me out last night."

"It wasn't a big deal," Troy responded casually, not meeting my eyes, "you needed someone and I told you I'd listen. . . I mean, I'm not a bad guy," His eyes rose up and found mine - my heart did a really weird thing and skipped a beat. I had to clench it out of fear when it happened. I wasn't used to that. "And I hope that kiss. . . wasn't. . . too much or anything. . ." He seemed to turn his head as if he didn't want to face the conversation.

I just laughed, "It was okay. . . I just. . . I'm not much of an emotional person, more physical, I mean, I try to avoid feelings, they kind of make everything difficult." I made a painful face as I advanced even closer towards him. We were now just a few inches away from each other.

He wasn't looking at me, but rubbed the back of his neck, almost nervously, "Gabriella. . . its really stupid, but I think I wanna be with you." The words came out of his mouth slightly jumbled and clumsy but the way he avoided my eyes seemed to make him all the more adorable.

But something inside of me was aching all at the same time. "Troy, some damage can never be repaired." I mumbled, underneath my breath.

"Well, I'd like to try," And then he did something unexpected - his eyes were on me, like two oceans, striking lightning bolts into my heart. I couldn't resist how attractive he was, that was impossible. And the closeness between us seemed to keep me on my toes. It was all too intense. The words. . . they had meaning. He really wanted to. He wanted to fix me.

Was that possible?

"I was. . . gonna ask you on a date," He blurted out, swallowing thickly as he glanced away, "I know, how stupid, I mean. . . out of all the girls, I seem to be going crazy over the one who'd never think of me like that."

"Troy, you think I don't like you?" I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "How the fuck could anyone not like you?"

He ran his hands through his hair, "Please, Gabriella," His voice was pleading, like velvet to me, "I'm not some jerk like that one guy. . . I wouldn't let you down like that."

"You don't like to let anyone down," I breathed, "you can't even let your father down ever. . ." The wind glided through my hair, tossing it around. "If anyone's going to let anyone down, it will be me."

"You don't have to," He suddenly said in a placid tone, "I mean. . . it's just a try, I just wanna help, it's okay if it doesn't happen. . ." He shuffled his feet, uncomfortably.

"Why would you want to bother with something so. . . impossible?" I asked, breathless to his suggestion.

His eyes were boring into the pavement, heavy with thought, "I'm not sure, Gabriella, I just. . . I wanna be with you," He bit his bottom lip as if he was positive this was what he felt. And my heart seemed to beat for him as he scratched the back of his head, "I feel like it's worth a shot,"

"And what if it's not?" I folded my arms, not really understanding him. He really wanted to break down a wall that stood far too tall. And even if he was slowly beginning to destroy it, the mass of it would just come crashing down on him in the end. Somehow, I would fuck him over, there was no doubt about that.

"I still wanna be with you," The frustration that took over his face seemed evident to me as he met my eyes, penetrating ocean-blues that I could hardly stare back at. They were far too intense. He wanted to be with me, no matter what I felt, no matter if I didn't even feel anything for him. How was that logical? That would be just using him, sleeping with him and then finding someone new. Playing him. Toying with him. Something I'm not sure I could even do.

"I'm not that great of a girl," I told him sincerely.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," He mumbled underneath his breath. His eyes shifted from his front door back to my face. He looked as if he wanted to ask something, but the idea nearly frightened him.

"I just wish everybody else could see things at the angle that you do, Troy," I chuckled bitterly, "you're too sweet on me."

He took in a breath, uneasily, his eyes were still filled with some sort of pain, like he was desperate to say something, but I wasn't quite sure on what. And then, after a few seconds, he stepped back and faced his front door, his back to me, "If you're not. . . doing something, you could come in for a little bit,"

I was amazed he was capable of asking such a inveigling question. "Sure, why not?"

"I have to take a shower though, I've been working on cars all day. . ." He opened the front door, letting me walk in first as he held the door open. At least he was polite. Jack must have taught him that one. There seemed to be some awkwardness still present with him though. He practically fell over his feet as he walked towards the bathroom, his eyes never leaving mine. ". . . You. . . um, can pick out a movie or something, there's a bunch of them in the living-room."

"Okay." I watched him as he disappeared into the bathroom and I couldn't help but imagine him, in the full nude, looking sexy as fuck. Ugh. Life's a bitch when you know someone as attractive as Troy Bolton.

And the picture of him with those Calvin Klein's on never seemed to fade from my mind either. I don't think a man should be allowed to wear such wonderful underwear. Seriously. Troy should be modeling for underwear. That's how great he looked in them.

I took a seat on the couch in the living-room. The entire house was dead-silent and I just noticed how awfully big it was compared to my own. It looked identical in size from the outside but on the inside, it was just ridiculous. The ceilings were definitely higher and the furniture well, it looked a bit pricey, I'll tell you that much.

I heard the shower come on from the bathroom and I smirked to myself. I had no idea where the DVD's were at and for some reason, I really wanted to find out. He mentioned I could look through them. I casually picked myself up from the couch and headed over to the bathroom. I obnoxiously knocked on the door and received nothing but silence in return.

"Troy," I called, eager for a response.

I got nothing. I then remembered, this was his happy moment, wasn't it? He enjoyed masturbating in the shower. For some reason, this entertained me wildly, and I suddenly had the urge to nearly break down the door and join him. Yikes. I need to keep my sexual desires to myself. I was biting my lip erratically and trying to play cool as I envisioned him having the time of his life in the shower.

Ugh.

"Troy. . ." I called again, hoping to give myself an excuse to just open the door and find him in the shower, doing God knows what with little Troy.

I grinned. Okay, no response, time to freak him out.

I turned the doorknob and was greeted with a bunch of steam. I imagined that was from the shower's hot water. It was humorous to me that Troy didn't lock the door. He obviously never thought I was crazy enough to actually barge in on him while he was showering.

"Troy," My voice echoed in the bathroom and I could see his shadow on the shower curtain.

He merely stopped washing what I presumed was his hair and stuck his head out from the curtain. I couldn't help but almost shit myself over amusement from the look that was plastered on his face. His eyes were wide and he seemed crucially embarrassed over the idea that I was inside of his bathroom.

"Gabriella! W-what are you doing," He heaved, his hair drenched in water and what I think was shampoo, "you can't just. . .walk in here!" He was freaked out, that was for sure, and I was trying to stop myself from laughing.

"I couldn't find the DVD's," I answered innocently, advancing closer towards the shower. He only reacted more and seemed to become even more uncomfortable. "Dude, chill, it's not like I haven't seen anything before. Unless you're masturbating, then you should just admit it." I grinned, as if I had just accomplished something wonderful.

He seemed to blush a little and then roll his eyes, "You have to get out of here, what if one of my parents came home and found out that we're both in the bathroom? People don't do this,"

"Oh, people do this all the time," I informed him, "don't be so freaked out, Troy." I took a grip of his shower curtain and attempted to pull it away from his body. He only gave me a look that altogether proved he thought I was insane. He refused to give up the curtain that covered his beautiful body. "Do you need some help?" I gave him a rather seductive glance and then narrowed my eyes.

I could tell he wasn't taking this well - he looked like he was speechless again, unable to find the right words, and I'm positive he wasn't taking healthy breaths. I almost felt sorry for him. Pretty soon he'd pass out from not taking in enough oxygen. I knew he was hot, but the way he acted when I was around, well, it was almost noxious.

I flipped my long hair so it was out of my face and then began to lift my shirt up, as if to take it off.

Troy's bug eyes seemed to expand even more, "What are you doing," the last word came out like a choked up word that an eleven year old would say while experiencing puberty. I think his voice went about twenty octaves higher.

I was now only in a bra, "I'm kind of dirty," I confessed, batting my eyelashes at him as I turned to face him, "I'm sure you wouldn't mind it if I just joined you."

He blinked, as if he didn't even believe me.

"I can't seem to get my bra to come off though," I feebly pushed at my bra, not trying too hard to get it off. I backed up so I was close to Troy and I could practically feel the hot water from the shower hitting my back. "Could you?"

"I don't know if this is a good. . ."

"Troy, don't be a pussy." I rolled my eyes as I let my back face him, sick and tired of him being such a little bitch about everything.

As he was breathing down my neck, exhilarated, overwhelmed breaths, he attempted to undo my bra. He wasn't doing very well - I could feel his hands shaking in some kind of anxiety, as if he could barely handle the idea of me in a bra, standing there, waiting for him to undo it. He was like. . . hyperventilating.

"Troy?"

". . .Um. . .yeah?" He asked, after a moment of silence. His hands continued to mess with the bra straps but never really figured it out.

"Your hands are shaking."

"Sorry. . ." He seemed actually sincere about being sorry. Almost as if he was humiliated that he was so eager about the situation.

I grabbed his hands and pushed them off of my back, undoing the bra by myself. I then began to pull at my shorts, though I could feel Troy's stare at my breasts, which were now in full view. He seemed completely shocked that I would do such a thing. But I didn't care.

I pulled down my panties and revealed my entire body - naked. Butt-naked. Yeah. I was standing there, looking at Troy Bolton, who was hiding behind a curtain, and I was nude. Completely. And he was eyeballing me like there was nothing better in the world to look at. I'm shocked the kid didn't start drooling. No joke.

I placed a foot in the shower and he seemed to move over accordingly, still flustered. He was underneath the shower head - the water pouring down onto his face, making him look even more attractive then before. The steam made it impossible to see much but I found myself clutching onto his shoulders and pushing him into the hard wall. He moaned something and then I pressed my glossed lips to his wet one's - my tongue exploring the environment of his mouth again. I forced his hands on me. I needed them there, like some sort of essential.

My hair became drenched as I was now underneath the shower curtain too. I began to moan the idea of him being this wet, his body clamped up against my own. But the want was endless and I couldn't resist the idea of him touching me all over again. Why was he so damn beautiful? Why?

My hands were all up in his hair and he was breathing neurotically, the room sweltering from his constant heaving. I panted for him and I only him. It seemed like fate that I'd do something like this. And now, I just couldn't stop. I had him pinned against the wall, the water spraying down on us like a rainstorm, the heat becoming even more overwhelming by the second. I could feel his member pressed against me and nothing seemed more irresistible.

"Troy," My lips were so close to his nose and I know he could feel me breathing on him, "I want you." The words were magical, like I had meant to say them all along. He seemed to take this at a heavy note and nearly fell to the ground. He looked as if he was about to faint but I'm sure the intake of the hot water made things even more difficult.

"But I want you more." The words were filled with something I've never heard Troy Bolton display before - they were filled with desire and some kind of eagerness. It was obvious to me that I wasn't the only one who longed to be as close to him as humanly possible. Or should I say, have him, inside of me.

"I want you now," My lips trembled, the fire inside of me burning so strong I couldn't control myself anymore. I was against him, about to wrap my legs around his waist and force him to fuck me right then and there. And he wanted to. As desperately as I did. His hands held onto my hair protectively as he clutched his lips onto mine. Oh, God, it was ceaseless, the want, the need, the addiction.

I trailed kisses down his neck, my hands caressing the wonders of his chest. I was sliding down to his nether region, greeting it with my touch and I heard him moan, as if telling me it was time. And then I pursed my lips to the shaft, and I could hear him panting, wanting more and more. And I wanted more. More of him.

"Gabriella," He murmured, despairingly.

I slid back up to meet him, moving my hands through his hair as he kissed me, rough, as if he was hungry for more.

"Now." He whispered, as if he was used to this - as if sex was something he did all the time. As if this was normal for him.

And yet I was the one who was worried about ruining this for him. His first time. With me.

END OF CHAPTER