Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All creative rights to the characters in this story related to High School Musical belong to its original creators. Any other names, places or events that may have similarity to existing/actual names, places or events is purely coincidental and the use of such is for the purpose of this story alone. Lastly, the author does not, in any way, profit from this story.

"How's the stray guy in the house?" Kelsi asked with a casual air of indifference as she sat crossed leg on the wood floors of the backstage dressing room.

"You mean Troy?"

"Are you housing another stray human you haven't told me about?"

Gabriella shot a reproving look at Kelsi over her shoulders while she struggled with the zipper of Tinker Bell's costume that Miss Darbus insisted she wear to help ease the process of the students on call back for the role of Lost Boys. Since Daisy, the one playing Tinker Bell, and the understudy for the same role—suspiciously—both called in sick that morning, she was asked or rather ordered by Miss Darbus to fill in for the part, wear the costume and sing with those on call back a scene from the play to facilitate those who will be chosen. "He's adjusting . . . well." She said.

No longer trying to avoid thinking about Troy, who for the past thirteen days has been living in the same roof with her and not complaining the least bit, Gabriella let her thoughts drift to him and her lips curved into a secretly amused smile.

The guy who she was very certain would fail abysmally in the adjustment stakes with respect to altering his lifestyle while living with them had surprised them all by fitting in well. After almost two weeks, Troy was already part of their household as if he lived there as long as they did.

He got along fine with all of them—well, except with Chad since of late he favours staying in the frat house with his college buddies so they rarely get to see him nowadays. In his absence though, Troy does the house chores Lucille assigned to him without complaint. And even though it was painfully obvious he was domestically awkward, he managed to take it all in stride. He's also gotten around to helping in the kitchen now and is genuinely interested in learning how to cook simple meals.

His initially tight lipped and aloof attitude melted away somehow and in place was a guy that's infinitely more likeable. Dinners in the apartment became an even more enjoyable and quite noisy affair once Troy warmed up to joining in the conversations and even went as far as sharing funny anecdotes about the upper crust people he knows. By an outsider's observation, he was almost like family already. They never talk nor ask about his background though. It was an obvious conclusion that he's rich but he won't confirm nor deny it. Whatever they assume is fine with him, it seems.

But the time Gabriella spends with him definitely, just as she expected, has this effect on her. An effect, a feeling she has never felt once for anybody, a guy most especially. It was a feeling akin to giddiness, a thrill going through her body like what one would feel after winning an all important competition, every time they're in the same room talking about anything from the mundane to the extraordinary stuff or playing board games or joking around or even just doing chores. Apart from him, she found that she craves his company, his piercing stares, his fleeting touches, his charming smile and his deep voice . . . all of it.

In a way that nobody has been able to accomplish with her, she suddenly began thinking and feeling like someone beautiful whenever he looks at her in that strangely intense way of his which until now she couldn't decipher what makes him eye her like so. Sometimes his gaze seems measuring and appreciative making her feel very feminine and self conscious of her scruffy appearance. In the past two days alone, she repeatedly and seriously considered reinventing her dress sense from the loose shirts and baggy pants to more female appropriate clothing.

Good thing she took a grip of her leaping impulses before embarking on such drastic changes because she's really not up to explaining to Lucille why now, all of a sudden, she has the desire to change her clothing preferences when over the course of eighteen years she's never been inclined nor bothered to do so.

Not only that, she couldn't recall how many times exactly she felt horribly tempted to run her fingers through Troy's hair, curve her fingers to his head and feel . . . feel whatever it is she's supposed to feel when touching a man.

Apart from putting far-reaching thoughts in her head, Troy has a way of making her feel special, like he doesn't want anyone else for company but her, sometimes acting like he's trying so hard to restrain himself from kissing her or like he couldn't wait to get home to see her or like he can't help giving her gifts that it's making her forget their reality, the enormous gap of their individual lives and that it's impossible for their friendship to last beyond now.

She was getting addicted to the unfamiliar yet pleasant feelings he was stirring in her. And for the first time she was sinking deeper and deeper with emotions she could neither understand nor control and any thought of grabbing a lifeline even though she knew she should disintegrates like smoke with a mere smile from Troy.

Never mind that in his presence, she's cast in a battle to resist a level of temptation that was very new to her. Yes, more than once, she does wonder how it would feel like to be kissed by him.

"What is going on with you and Troy?" There was a hint of hesitation in Kelsi's tone when she cut through Gabriella's introspection and as she met her eyes she looked a bit apologetic for asking but also it could be sensed that she had a need to know the real score.

"What do you mean?" And it was an honest question. When apart from him and able to think rationally, Gabriella is also asking what's going on between her and Troy or if there's anything going on. She isn't blind or stupid. She does acknowledge these strange feelings blossoming within her because of Troy and she does love romance novels but still she might be assuming something that isn't there when maybe in Troy's mind his treatment of her is nothing out of the ordinary.

It's an accepted fact of her life that she's not the type of girl to inspire a guy feelings other than friendship but having all these notions about how Troy sees her means she's wavering in that self belief. He made her waver.

"I mean, has he said anything to you?" Kelsi paused like she was trying to better phrase what she wants to say. "Cause you know, Gabs, I don't know if you notice or you're just ignoring it but with you Troy acts almost like a . . . protective boyfriend."

"Don't be silly, Kels." Gabriella negated, tugging down the jagged hemline of the costume to avoid meeting her friend's eyes. The same notion crossed her mind but she discarded the possibility as ridiculous because, really, what could a guy like Troy see in someone like her and since she's never had a boyfriend in her life, there's no one to compare his behaviour with. "Troy's the touchy feely type." She explained but she was thinking He excites me in a physical way. That's never happened to me before, not with any guy. "It doesn't mean anything." Let it mean something.

"I really hope it's just that."

Curls bounced as Gabriella's head jerked up, eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to tell me, Kelsi?"

She sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose. "I like Troy but like it or not, fact is he's not one of us. If things happened differently, he wouldn't even be here. What do you, never mind the rest of us, really know of him? That he's rich? But even that he leaves us to make our own conclusions. I'm not trying to put you down, Gabs. I'll never do that to you and to be honest, I kinda like him for you because he has this way of boosting your self-esteem . . . but whatever he's doing, whatever he's making you feel or think, please don't lose your head. He's gonna leave sooner or later and I don't want you to get hurt."

For a moment, Gabriella felt a spurt of anger at Kelsi's candidness. But quickly realized her friend, who knows what she's been through before, doesn't want her to suffer any illusions of what could be with Troy. Kelsi was telling her upfront what she should have been telling herself while in Troy's company. Because while it was true that Troy has loosened considerably since she met him, he still won't talk about himself. What she knows of him, she gathered from observing. And questions she raises about his family, his privileged life and especially about his father are more often than not evaded. Simply put, even if he thinks of her as a friend, he doesn't trust her enough to confide his personal life. That puts her in a sort of limbo because he's incredibly sweet and thoughtful with her most of the time and she discovered her new weakness besides chocolate coated strawberries is Troy.

Kelsi wasn't discouraging anything, only reminding her and keeping things in perspective because she's genuinely concerned for her like any good friend would be. Whether she admits it or not, her inexperience with guys means she's in danger of losing her head with Troy. And what level of closeness did she really expect there to be when she and Troy have only known each other in so short a time? What she's feeling could possibly be one sided . . . a reaction of awe to a handsome, worldly stranger.

Her earlier amused thoughts of Troy quickly fell into abeyance as she wondered if her giddiness with him means she's already half way to being infatuated. So with an uneasy smile, she avowed with more conviction that she felt, "I won't."

"Good."

She was very, very fond of Troy. That's all. "I'm sure he doesn't mean anything though—"

Gabriella tried to parry but Kelsi was quick to shot her down. "He seeks you out all the time. He takes interests in what you do and asks you to tell him about the books you read—romance books—seriously, what guy does that! And he's been giving you gifts!"

"Maybe it's a habit of his. There are people like that. Besides, they're just trinkets that caught his eye." Gabriella argued pointedly responding only to the last of Kelsi's statements as she inspected herself in the mirror and frowned distastefully at the costume that revealed her shoulders, arms and a good deal of her legs. "Why is Miss Darbus insisting I wear this?"

"Caught his eye because of you." Kelsi supplied, completely ignoring her comment about the costume. "I don't see him as the type to buy angel figurines, second hand romance books, colourful barrettes and fitted girly shirts just because he personally fancies them. He buys these things for you and he seems to have forgotten that he should be saving money not spending it."

"He's generous . . . he gave me his jacket the first time . . . and it's probably just his way of saying thanks for our hospitality." Gabriella reasoned but even she knew how weak an argument she was giving. She had been shocked as well to be given gifts everyday by Troy. How many times did she refuse them only to lose in his argument and because she didn't want to hurt his feelings? And when did she begin thinking of him like the heroes in her novels that do little things for the heroines to show their affection?

She has got to stop reading too much romance books! It tends her to dreaming, as women known from time immemorial, of love and happily ever after.

"If that's the case, don't you think he's being a little unfair by not giving gifts to Lucille, Jason and Chad?"

"Kelsi—"

"Look, Gabs, all I'm saying is there's nothing wrong with how he treats you. Hell, I would be flattered to death if someone that handsome would look at me like he wants to kiss me senseless or rip my clothes off but," She paused for effect or maybe to emphasize her point. "what you and I have are all assumptions. Troy hasn't said anything concrete, hasn't he?" When Gabriella confirmed this with a shake of the head, she continued. "In his case, whatever his intention with you, whether he has one or he's just passing the time, he should back it with words. Straightforward words."

You are seriously bad for my health. Troy told her last night in the middle of telling the story about the book she read which he asked her to tell him. His voice was low, husky, intimate and he was looking at her like he was trying very hard not to drag her close. It literally sent a shiver down her spine even though she had no idea what exactly he meant or what prompted him to say that to her—which somehow proves Kelsi's point. Those were not straightforward words.

It took effort but Gabriella managed a stumbling recovery. "I won't ask him!"

"I don't expect you to. But if he's going somewhere with this, he should say whether he simply likes you or he 'likes you like you' without being asked."

Whichever way Gabriella interprets 'likes you like you', it still goes without saying that if Troy doesn't say it openly, then all the thoughtfulness and the intense looks he's been throwing at her either means nothing or he's just amusing himself with her to pass the time. "Socially speaking, we mix like oil and water." Yet deep down, she's wishing things are different between them.

"That's why you shouldn't lose your head . . . and maybe you should consider having other distractions."

"Kelsi, no guy here sees me like that."

"Don't be so sure."

"Come on, Kels—"

"Consider it a suggestion."

Silence hung in the air coupled with looks exchanged between long time friends. One concerned, the other grateful and without need for more words exchanged, they understood each other.

"So, tell me why did Miss Darbus insist I wear this?" Gabriella repeated her query some minutes later, more than willing to latch on to a different matter to talk about. She gestured to the costume she now donned and not one to expose skin unless absolutely necessary, she's a bit uncomfortable wearing it.

With an armload of clothes on hand, Martha strode in the small room just in time to hear her and beat Kelsi to the punch in answering. "Because my dear Miss Montez," She mimicked the drama teacher's voice with some exaggeration, causing them to laugh. "when they see you dressed as Tinker Bell and acting a scene with them, they'll get into character better. They'll feel the story singing through their veins."

"In other words, I'm being served up as motivation for these people." Gabriella drily said.

Grinning, Martha dumped the clothes in a corner and said, "Exactly." Then her eyes did a slow, appreciative survey of Gabriella's fidgeting figure in the Tinker Bell costume, proof that she isn't accustomed to wearing sexy, revealing outfits. The costume fitted her like a glove and revealed the delicate curves of her body. It transformed Gabriella from the tomboyish girl she was used to seeing to a lovely little vixen and Martha was thinking that if she were a guy, she'd be blind and crazy not to appreciate the view.

With a grin, Martha added after sharing a quick glance at Kelsi, "And what a motivation you are."

"Where was my motivation when I auditioned for my role?" Gabriella demanded in belated upset, missing the meaning behind Martha's comment or the looks exchanged between the two. "This is totally unfair."

"Hun, you didn't need motivation to impress Miss D and as for the unfairness . . . well, life's like that sometimes."

Tell me about it. She wanted to say but kept it to herself.

Troy looked up and saw the back of Jason's head. "We're sneaking in." He whispered in a hiss then disbelievingly wondered why he was whispering. If their purpose was to come in unnoticed, there was a slim chance of being heard what with the music and the singing, he assumed, was coming from the stage and an authoritative voice giving what sounded like harsh comments. "Can't we go in the normal way?" It was a stupid question but he was with Jason and 'stupid' takes on a slightly different perspective in his company.

Without looking back or breaking his sneaking stride towards the back row seats of the auditorium, Jason explained in a hushed tone. "Darbus shouldn't, mustn't see us or she'll slap me with a detention again and force me to paint sets while I'm at it."

Troy did not bother to whisper anymore. "So what the hell are we doing here trawling like thieves in the dark?"

Throwing an impatient glance over his shoulder, Jason hissed, "You said you wanted to see Gabriella—" He reached the end of the wall of the dim corridor and took a cautious peek. "And she's here just like I told you."

Jason had a point. He did ask him earlier where Gabriella was since it was getting late and she has yet to arrive at the apartment. He got worried whereas Jason, the brother, wasn't and instead of being calmed by Jason's insouciance over Gabriella's lateness he grew even more anxious. When pacing the apartment didn't work to dispel his worry, unconvinced that Gabriella would stay so late in school without telling anyone of them, he forced Jason that they should fetch Gabriella at East High. "Thanks—I think." Troy mumbled.

"I'm not being generous." Jason contradicted flatly but his attention was no longer on Troy. He was scanning the people in the auditorium, trying to identify faces at a distance. "There's this new girl I'm seeing . . . she's here too."

Troy shook his head and pressed against the wall directly behind Jason. "Ah of course, why else would you let me force you from your night time TV and go to sneaking in the dark if not for a girl."

Swinging his dark head back at him, Jason raised in a mildly annoyed tone, "I could say the same for you."

"What—"

"You think I don't notice?" He raised a brow and the eyes that pinned Troy suddenly had a sharper edge to it. "Earlier, you were pacing like a restive hungry wildcat on the prowl. I may not care much about things around me but I'm not blind, Bolton . . . and neither is Chad."

Taken aback by the sudden shift in the air and realizing that he had been totally complacent and that he had completely misjudged the other guy, Troy couldn't come up quick enough with what to say for himself. "I—"

"You like her."

It's understood who her is. Absolutely no reason to pretend he doesn't know who Jason is referring to. There was also an unmistakable certainty in the way Jason said it but, considering how protective the brothers are of her and there was also Lucille's reminder that she won't tolerate any inappropriate behaviour from him especially toward her niece, Troy still tried to act as if the issue is trivial to steer the focus away from Gabriella.

He struggled to blank out his face. "I like all of you."

Jason actually rolled his eyes and his lips curled sardonically which was another way of letting him know he doesn't believe a word of that claim. "Can't say I'm flattered." He intoned drily. "I don't sway both ways, Bolton. And if you like me like that, I'll punch you in the face." He grumbled then heaved a sigh as if he was resigned to accepting things as they are which, Troy knew, was typical of him. It'll probably take a life and death situation before Jason can be bothered to interfere with anything that doesn't exactly concern him. "I don't mean the general kind of liking."

Opting not to provide a rejoinder which would only lengthen the subject and keep him in the open, Troy kept his mouth shut and followed Jason as he slipped past the wall and quietly sat themselves in the corner close to one of the exits. It was dark where they sat to keep them unnoticed but they had a very good view of the stage where all the activity was happening.

Failing to spot Gabriella on the stage, he slouched further down the seat upon Jason's orders as precaution to keep their heads hidden in case the eccentric Darbus chance to look in their direction.

Having had his mind jogged, Troy had to admit it was true what Jason said. At the outset, he had liked Gabriella and that innocent liking grew steadily from the simple gratitude to something he's not so keen to acknowledge for reasons, practical and otherwise. There are so many reasons not to get too close to her but he finds he forgets them all whenever she's close.

Rules and restrictions never really worked with him even then. He took great enjoyment in breaking each and every rule thrown his way and mostly to annoy his father. But the situation he's in now is very different, in such that he cannot afford to displease Lucille and the brothers because the consequence will cause even bigger problems for him and at the moment he likes things as they are already.

He really doesn't know what to do because he can't stop liking Gabriella more than the usual. He can't help himself which is probably why even Jason, who couldn't care less, had noticed the difference in his treatment of Gabriella.

Though she may believe less of herself in terms of physical appearance and she wears clothes he doesn't exactly approve of, Troy still likes what he sees everyday. Gabriella isn't beautiful the way the women he's used to are labelled beautiful—artfully styled hair, perfectly applied make-up, expensive clothes, glittering accessories—but there is something about her, a certain je ne sais quoi—that all those other women lacked—that makes him wholly conscious and affected of her femininity.

Take last night for example. They were on the roof deck of the apartment building, just lounging on old, yellowing chaise chairs, staring up the dark sky devoid of stars, inhaling pollution and as per usual, ever since Gabriella showed him that rooftop a couple of nights ago, they were savouring the cool night air while talking.

Actually with the amount of talking he's done with Gabriella, if Sharpay knew, he imagined she'd choke on her disbelief. Except with his closest friends and his cousins, he rarely engages in conversation and when he does it's mostly about other people or material stuff. But upon meeting Gabriella, whether trivial or deeply meaningful, he couldn't seem to stop yapping.

"How do you do that?" He had asked. She was telling him a particularly harrowing experience with a cousin from her mother's side of the family who, as a prank, let unfriendly dogs chase her. Imagining how scared she must've been of those ferocious animals, he was outraged on her behalf despite the fact that it happened several years ago. But Gabriella merely smiled, told him she got over that upset and even forgave the lunatic cousin for what he did because she came out of it unharmed and she learned how to tame the animals.

"Do what?"

"I'm beginning to envy your 'every cloud has a silver lining' attitude." He said, still staring up the sky with his hands behind his head as if deep in thought. The roof deck wasn't exactly an attractive place and the view from that height doesn't even come close to being inspiring but it's become his favourite place to hang out at night because it provides considerable peace and quiet after a hectic day of working and it's the place where he can be alone with Gabriella. "I'd have done the same prank to your cousin and see how he likes being chased witless by snarling animals."

Shrugging, she said matter-of-factly, "I don't like to depress myself—exacting revenge isn't my thing—it'll only depress me. I don't chase impossible feats either and I respect my own limitations. And like Lucille always tells me and my brothers, it's never wise to dwell on misfortunes. Better to just move on."

"Wise woman, your aunt. Yoda in the making, she is." He stated indolently mimicking Yoda's voice; then he stretched more comfortably on the creaking chaise. She giggled melodiously and he couldn't help smiling to the lovely, infectious sound.

Suddenly remembering he had something to give her; he swung his legs to the side and dug a hand to his jeans pocket. Gabriella looked his way with a puzzled gaze. "I have something for you." He averred.

"Oh, Troy." Gabriella bemoaned and slung an arm over her eyes. "I appreciate your gifts . . . I really do but you have to save your money. Be practical!" She felt him move and a second later he was sitting on the same chaise with her, making her open her eyes and sit up to allow more space between them.

"It's cheap." He assured with a charming grin.

She glared with reproach but the tiny answering smile that tugged the corners of her lips means she wasn't proof against him charm. "You always say that."

Not the least bit affected by that censure, he ignored her retort and wordlessly held the tiny plastic thing out to her. He doesn't want to analyze himself on his impulses but he found that he takes pleasure in buying things for her. Doesn't matter what it is or how much it costs—though with is current financial state he can't really buy any expensive stuff—he just likes giving her gifts. So he won't stand for her refusal.

She eyed the object first with an indented brow then her face cleared to be replaced by open curiosity. "What is that?"

"It'll help when you read your books." He proffered with an inner smile at her grudging acceptance and showed her how to use the triangle shaped plastic with a hole for the thumb to slip through. He took hold of her right hand, slipped the thing through her thumb and raised it at eye level. "It serves as some sort of ruler to make it easier to read through printed lines. It's tiny but convenient for reading."

Still studying his gift, the tip of her tongue snaked out to moisten her dry lips. His azure eyes, as though trained like a homing pigeon suddenly darkened to a lapis lazuli shade, his gaze dropping to the full and enticing pout of her lower lip and lingered there.

She spoke, "Thank you." But he barely heard it. He was aware only that her inviting lips were moving and like a sexually challenged teenager, he can't tear his eyes away. "Troy?"

Faint colour threw his face into prominence. He stiffened, shifting uneasily in the chair, a tiny muscle pulling tight at the corner of his unsmiling mouth. It took considerable effort to pull his gaze from her lips to her questioning eyes and even when he was able to do so, he was then arrested by her wide, dark gold eyes with those incredibly long lashes.

She was so close. He could easily draw her to his hard body, hold her face steady, feel those lips against his and kiss her the way he'd been imagining to do. But he knew he couldn't . . . absolutely couldn't. "Welcome." He mumbled with a smile that he hoped didn't look pained and to dispel the tension in him, he encouraged, "Tell me about that book you read recently."

Tucking the gift in her pocket, her face brightened and eagerly launched into telling him the romantic plot of the book she read that week. He discovered several days ago that she's an engaging storyteller. He doesn't care for romance really but Gabriella has a way of telling a story that captures his attention and makes him listen to a cheesy romance plot.

As she was describing the outstanding, if unbelievable, attributes of the supposedly beautiful Scottish female character as seen by the big, burly Scottish man that was laird to an all powerful Scottish clan, his body began to relax and he listened more attentively and at the same time drawn by the myriad expressions playing across her lovely face and the many hand gestures she was unconsciously doing while she gets deeper into her story.

"I bet you the women in the year 1100 are as hairy as their men. Nothing attractive about hairy women." He pointed out, gaining him a punch in the arm for ruining the picture she was creating for his imagination but other than that comment he was a model listener. He nodded when appropriate, grumbled disapproval when expected, expressed a sound of believable sympathy for the unfortunate plight of the heroine and asked a question or two about certain details. In short, he wanted her to believe he was genuinely interested all in the name of extending their time alone.

Unfortunately for him, the relaxed mood he was striving to hold on to dissipated again when she suddenly relayed, ". . . he was caught in a trance by her beautiful brown eyes and her enchanting smile and before he knew what he was doing, he pushed her up against a tree and kissed her breathless. He couldn't help himself. He was ensnared . . . the kissing became more intimate—"

"Gabriella . . ." He interrupted while swallowing a groan of frustration and clasping his hands tight to prevent from reaching for her, and without intending to, his voice had taken on the huskily seductive tones of the type used by lovers in the bedroom. "You are seriously bad for my health."

She blinked, mouth slightly agape. "I-I don't understa—" She stuttered then abruptly stopped herself as a flush demarcated her cheekbones into prominence but confusion was still very evident in her eyes like she was deciding whether to be flattered or insulted.

The air, out of the blue, thrummed with tension. He didn't know where it had come from and from the look on Gabriella's face, she doesn't either, but it unsettled him, made him tense again in all places especially that vital part of his male anatomy. He sensed rather than saw that it brought her skin out in goose-flesh. A faint tremor shook her frame, and she watched his mouth suddenly curl into a self mocking smile. Very briefly it was there and then it was gone making her think she only imagined it. He let her scrutinize him with an uneasy suspicion of she knew not what.

But he knew what it was. Sexual tension. Sexual hunger. For someone who views sex as casual as a take out meal, it was rare for him to suffer any sort of sexual tension because if that happened with any other woman he's acquainted with, it would naturally be slaked in the nearest available private space.

Not with Gabriella though. His awareness of her aunt and her brothers and his position in their household stands like a force field holding him at bay.

She's off limits to him. How many times does he have to remind himself that?

He cleared his throat and fought for control. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" She parroted, looking thoroughly bewildered of him, and he realized her inexperience with the opposite sex—except having a guy treat her with a chummy attitude as if she's of the same gender—makes her unable to recognize his raging attraction to her.

"For interrupting your story." He slid in smoothly but he removed himself from the chaise and sat back on the one he previously occupied. Space was very necessary for his control. "Let's skip the lovey-dovey part—what happened next?"

"You know I don't really blame you for liking her." Jason's voice intruded into his thoughts, snapping Troy back into the present.

He slid Jason a sideways glance. "Huh?"

"You like Gabriella and I don't blame you for that. Lots of people like her. There are a number of guys I know who are into her." Jason revealed which stunned Troy into stillness before he added, "But they don't make a move because of me and Chad. We don't trust any of them with Gabriella."

Frowning at that logic, he pointed out, "Aren't you being just a little bit unfair to Gabriella? She's eighteen, not eight. She's free to make her choices."

"We're protective with good reason. She's been through hell with that loose screw mother of hers and her equally crazy relatives on that side of the fence."

"So you let her think she's one of the guys and you encourage she wears boyish, ill fitting clothes." Troy couldn't smother the disapproval in his tone over that kind of reasoning. Whichever angle he views it, they were being iniquitous to Gabriella by not allowing her to experience what any other eighteen year old girl should be experiencing as part of growing up.

"It's safer for her that way. Besides, if a guy really likes her, how she dresses is irrelevant . . ." Jason turned his head to give him a knowing look that suggested neither disappointment nor irritation to what he believed was Troy's opinion of Gabriella fashion choices. "You dislike how she dresses."

Although not denying that plainly stated allegation, Troy felt he had to defend his liking of Gabriella since Jason made it sound like he's someone who's faking his interest on his sister. "Only how she dresses because I believe she should dress appropriately for a girl of her age." When Jason merely shrugged at that, he added, "You don't seem too concerned that I like her. Am I right to assume you trust me with your sister?"

"Heck, no!" was the fervent denial. Jason even had to stifle a laugh, sliding down as far as the seat would allow so as not to alert anyone of their unwanted presence in the auditorium.

"Then your friendliness with me doesn't really add up to that distrust." Troy snapped suddenly irritated to be bluntly told he wasn't trusted. Though he knew that he shouldn't take offense to such an honest admission because of who he is in relation to them and he's as equally mistrusting of people by nature, for some irrational reason he couldn't seem to accept that admission from Jason. "Why aren't you telling me off Gabriella? Warning me or whatever it is you do to the guys who show interest in her?"

"Are you kidding me? You're no threat." Jason gave him a look of clear astonishment that suggested the reason should be very obvious therefore his annoyance is unjustifiable. "You won't be here long enough to cause us worry. Don't get me wrong though . . . for a rich kid, you're cool. Very cool and I'm not just saying that to soothe your ego. Me and the guys enjoy hanging with you, but let's face it, you'll leave soon . . . you're not from around here—"

Going on and on, Jason hardly detected that Troy had gone very quiet and in fact had zoned the rest of his words out. One thing alone kept repeating in Troy's head, you'll leave soon. You'll leave soon. It was a reminder, unconsciously given.

There was no choice to that truth. He'll leave soon. He had to leave soon. But it was as if he'd blocked his sole reason for extending his stay here, having had too much to cope with along with everything else. He wasn't saving money anymore or at least making an effort to save his earnings which was his primary goal for finding employment. It isn't just about Gabriella anymore either, although she plays a very big pulling force. He'd gotten so at home in the apartment, in the neighbourhood, in the work place , with Jason's wide range of friends that the purpose for his stay in the slums of Albuquerque blurred as soon as he started adjusting.

Shocking as it'll be to the people in his social circle, but he's happy being here. He feels fulfilled with his hard earned money from working at the diner. He discovered he can be responsible and can survive with very little stuff or comfort. He's friends with people who don't know who he really is yet welcomed him into their circle as him. He thinks it's amazing to be a part of Gabriella's odd family and being suddenly reminded all of that is temporary, he's naturally very reluctant to let go.

Feeling a light nudge to his side, Troy turned his attention back at Jason in time to catch him say, "There's Gabriella—I thought she's Peter Pan?"

Looking ahead to the stage where Jason was transfixed and hearing the drama teacher, Miss Darbus, call out Gabriella's name to give her a few instructions, Troy's eyes widened and his mouth parted when Gabriella moved forward and began to sing.

She was clad in a tiny fitted green dress that bared a good amount of the skin of her shoulders and legs—skin that looked as flawless as her face and glowed with health under the glare of the stage lights, shoulders that could be the envy of a runway model, body that was perfectly formed, and those stunning legs that's as perfect as the rest of her. Seeing her, she looked like a revelation, like she peeled away all the offending layers that were hiding her perfection. And she was breathtakingly sexy that he was torn whether to stay where he was and be content just to ogle her or run up the stage and cover her up because there were at least four other males, including Jason, gaping in open admiration and astonishment at what she dared to display and she didn't seem to be aware of the effect she has on others.

In the end, the decision was taken away from him by Jason's surprisingly strong hand clamped on his arm to restrain him from moving, he stayed put on the seat and was told repeatedly not to make any sudden noise without him registering any of the words. His eyes, his every sense were glued to the stage, to Gabriella, to how she looked, to her wonderful singing voice . . .

She was making him act out of character, making him behave like a sex starved idiot because, seeing her without her mannish clothes, the reason for her appeal finally dawned on him. She belongs to the rare kind of women whose natural beauty would always outshine any frame and any physical flaw.

And he knew . . . he was beyond all hope of reclaim.

He doesn't just like her. He wants her. Wants her like no other. It was a frustrating situation because he knows she's an innocent . . . a virgin and that alone is not a reason to stop him but by way of Lucille, his gracious host, she's off limits to him.

Hours later, climbing the stairs to the second floor of the apartment building with Jason and Gabriella involved in a lively chatter and himself . . . lagging behind, mind floating, speechless and unable to believe Gabriella was back to her usual get up, not a hint of her feminine curves on display.

"Hey Troy, you alright?" Jason called his attention before opening the apartment door. Gabriella was also looking at him strangely. "You look lost, man."

Breathing deep to regain a little mental equilibrium, he nodded and said, "I'm fine. You both go ahead. I'm just gonna get some air."

"Okay." The siblings said in unison and Troy turned away.

As Gabriella expected, he was at the roof top standing in one corner, a leg prop up on the raised edge of the roof. His hands were tucked in his pants pocket and he was staring out but she had a feeling, quietly observing him, he wasn't really seeing anything. His profile suggested he was deep in thought and she wondered if it had anything to do with his father.

Or maybe he was thinking his time with living the poor life is almost up and he was deciding how best to tell them.

The earlier conversation with Kelsi in mind, Gabriella moved out of the shadows alerting Troy of her presence and she stopped about an arm's length beside him before she gently spoke, "I know you don't talk about your family but I'm sure you miss them already. Your dad, whatever rift you had with him, is probably worried sick about you." She half turned to look at him and she saw his face harden it was almost scary to look at. But she forged on. She felt it her duty to let him know that, no matter how difficult it is for her, he needn't hesitate on their account. He owes them nothing except gratitude. "You got on nicely here and I've gotten used to having you around but . . . this isn't your life. Your life is in L.A. with your family, your friends. You must miss them terribly."

A long silence ensued and just when Gabriella thought he won't say anything, not even to acknowledge her presence, he came out with, "I never heard you sing before tonight . . . you have a beautiful voice, Gabriella."

"I—what?" She frowned at him. He was dropping the subject again.

His head turned her way and in all seriousness told her, "That was a compliment."

"O-okay." Disconcerted at first, she felt her cheeks warm but quickly recalled the manoeuvre he often employs to waylay her from discussing at length his family connections. She planted both hands on her hips as she whirled to face him, a stubborn tilt to her chin. "Just so you know, I'm starting to feel stupid talking to you about one thing and you're talking to me about another matter entirely. It won't be a strike against your macho image if you admit to missing your father. You can't go on like this indefinitely, you know. You need your family. We all do."

"My macho image is perfectly intact." He assured with dismissive cool but his cyan eyes were trained to her face with something akin to irritation. "What bothers me more is how it's always so difficult to get a compliment through to you and expect a proper reaction. Usually the women I know fall all over their feet just to get me to single them out and say something resembling a compliment."

"I'm not one of those women." She snapped.

"And thank God for that!" In a sudden move that surprised her, Troy took a step to close the space separating them and gently grabbed hold of her hands.

Disappointed and hurt, whether or not she had a right to be, by his relief that she does not qualify to be among the women he knew and obviously prefers, she snatched her arm from his grasp and turned on her heel to leave but not before saying, "Until I came to live with Lucille, I had neither expected nor received anything much in the way of praise in my life. What I didn't know I didn't miss. So pardon me for not swooning to your compliments!"

Large, strong hands seized her by the waist from behind and pulled her back before she could take another step. "Let go of me!" Gabriella fumed, spinning around to face him, eyes flashing angry gold and pushing against his hard chest. Kelsi was right. "What do you want from me? An apology for who I am? An apology for not reacting correctly to your compliment?—which, by the way, I know you only mentioned to stop me from talking about your father!"

"That's a sad thing to say, Gabriella," He was the model of unfazed, unaffected charm and he was holding her against his bigger frame like he has no plans of letting her go, making Gabriella squirm to get away even more. He held firm though until she gave up struggling and simply stood immobile, glaring at him. But he cut short her ire by smiling. "Please believe me when I say, you have a beautiful voice."

"Thanks." She sounded ungrateful but she didn't care. Gabriella glanced away, doing her best to shrug off the odd attraction. They were an unlikely match. While it's true opposites may attract, she supposed they rarely stayed together. And there's no other pair more opposite than Troy and herself. She forced to stay still as stone in the circle of his arms, though the yearning to bolt away was fairly overwhelming.

"And you are beautiful, Gabriella . . ." A hand reached up to gently turn and tip her chin up so that she would look to him again. With a handsome smile, he let his eyes slowly roam her face, her stoic face gave way to feeling flustered, then he emphasized quietly, "Very beautiful."

That single compliment from Troy said with an intimacy that made her breathing shallow had a quite disproportionate effect on her; she forgot her anger and in it's place, a warm squishy feeling. Very beautiful. At that moment, looking unimpressive and boyish as she does, even if she had been wearing a sack, she would have stayed dressed in it to please him.

And, had she had sufficient nerve, she would have made him list every single other tiny thing he liked about her but conversely, a childhood of being told not a single compliment—except as a joke to see if she's stupid enough to believe it—and a long list of shortcomings especially about her looks, makes it difficult for her to wholly welcome such things. "No, please, don't embarrass me by saying—"

Troy made an impatient sound, cutting her off and very softly he said to her, "I told myself that I won't do this but . . . resisting temptation is a lesson I have yet to learn." Something struck him then. He'd never gone to such trouble before. Never had to think too much about women. What he wanted, he got. Women always said yes and he gets them in spades. It was always easy. But this . . . the most chaste kiss he's about to give was proving to be a challenge to his self control.

As a young child, Gabriella learned the futility of excessive anticipation and worry when she was powerless to alter things. She knew what was to happen next so when Troy's lips lightly brushed hers she forced not to shy away from it, mentally convincing herself that her first kiss is not that big of a deal.

But when Troy's hands suddenly cradled her head and his fingers knotted through the silken strands of hair angling her head to receive the next brush of his lips, no words could connect now.

He took her mouth with tormenting expertise but in slow, exciting degrees as if cautious not to overwhelm her with his carnal desire lest he scares her. His wonderful lips brushed here and there, shaping, caressing, feeling. Then she felt his thumb gently push down on her chin and he whispered against her lips, "Open your mouth for me, Gabriella."

And she did.

Troy reclaimed her mouth immediately not giving her time to think. The tip of his tongue made a gentle foray between her parted lips and Gabriella heard her startled gasp, assailed suddenly by electrifying sensations from the caress of his tongue into the soft interior of her mouth. Every new sensation a welcome discovery. Every nerve in her body coming slowly alive at the sensual onslaught. Every brain cell she possessed shutting down.

It was like every kiss she had ever dreamt and never received. It was every romantic kiss she's ever read in books and tried to imagine. It was happening and inexperience was no hindrance to her instinctive response. Underneath her loose cotton shirt her heart was beating very fast with something between fear and elation but of its own volition the tip of her tongue uncertainly tangled with his and withdrew sharply as she heard Troy emit a tortured groan, then without warning released his hold on her, pulling away.

Dazed, her legs feeling like overcooked pasta, Gabriella fought to gather her wits. She saw Troy open his mouth about to speak, but nothing came out. He stared at her for a suspended moment and shook his head not knowing what to say. She doesn't know what to say either and her first concern at the moment is to normalize her breathing so she waited.

Finally, he found his voice. "You—are an indulgence I should not allow myself to have. I'm sorry."

Gabriella was shattered.

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. But my files were corrupted and I lost everything!-even the chapter for TSM. Urrgh! I had to start all over again and in my frustration it took me longer to finish writing the chapter. Thanks to everyone of my readers for being so patient.