Across The Hall

by Punkpoet69

Gabriella and Troy's relationship started as nothing more than convenience. His handyman skills in exchange for her help with his daughter, Hannah. But between the burnt cookies, shared late-night conversations, favors that blur the lines of friendship, and a slow-burning attraction neither of them fully acknowledges, they find themselves tangled in something deeper.

Gabriella

Another bad date. Another failed attempt at finding Mr. Right.

Hell, at this point, Mr. Right Now.

Fuck it. Mr. Orgasm.

Gabriella Montez was fed up. Tired. Exhausted, really. She had done everything right—been a "good girl." She'd gone to school and graduated at the top of her class. She went to college, got her degree in public relations, and later landed a stable, if slightly soul-sucking, job at American Airlines.

She was a grownup. An independent woman living on her own in a one-bedroom apartment with peeling paint, unreliable plumbing, and a landlord who ignored maintenance requests until she threw around legal jargon. But where the fuck was her Prince Charming? The guy who was supposed to take one look at her and just know.

Because that guy was not the one she'd just barely survived dinner with.

That guy had been a personal trainer who spent the entire evening flexing—not just his biceps but his entire personality. He'd talked about fitness, meal prepping, and, oh yeah, trying to get her to sign up for a "special friends and family training package."

That wasn't a date. That was a goddamn sales pitch.

Gabriella exhaled sharply, her heels clicking against the flooring as she climbed the stairs to her apartment.

"Seriously, is it asking too much for a guy not to be a complete piece of shit?"

"What did you think was gonna happen when you met him at the gym?" Taylor Danforth, her best friend since high school, said through the phone. "He was standing behind you at the stair climber. That was your first red flag."

Gabriella dug her keys out of her bag, struggling against the clutter inside. "Honestly?" she huffed. "That he'd be focused on getting laid and would at least fake being a gentleman until the next morning."

Taylor snorted. "Ever heard of a vibrator?"

A sharp beep interrupted their conversation. Gabriella groaned. She didn't need to check her screen to know who it was. Her mother.

Of course.

Her mother had an almost supernatural ability to sense the exact moment Gabriella was questioning her life choices. Not that she would offer actual support. No, her mother's version of encouragement was a mix of criticism, unsolicited advice, and deeply rooted Catholic guilt.

"Great, and now my mom is calling. Just what I need. A reminder that I'm old, single, and destined to die alone."

Taylor sighed theatrically. "You're not old. You won't die alone. I've already told you, babe—say the word and you can be my secret lover. Chad will understand."

Gabriella laughed despite herself. Taylor had been married for ten years to the same man she had dated since high school. A rare, nauseatingly stable love story. While Taylor was off having cute date nights and marital sex, Gabriella was out here trying to dodge pyramid scheme dates and serial ghosters.

"No, thank you," Gabriella said. "No offense, but I need actual sex in my life. And you're kind of missing the equipment, babe. It's not worth the joy of confirming my lesbian lifestyle to my father."

"What's a lesbian?"

Gabriella froze.

Slowly, she turned around, wincing as she locked eyes with Troy Bolton, her neighbor across the hall, who was very much there.

He stood in the dimly lit hallway, balancing a bag of groceries in one arm while holding the small hand of his six-year-old daughter, Hannah, in the other.

Gabriella was pretty sure her soul left her body.

Troy was one of those men who made casual look stupidly attractive. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his jawline sharp but softened by just the right amount of stubble. He had the kind of face that made women stupid—the kind of guy you fantasized about running into at a coffee shop, where he'd charmingly apologize for bumping into you and then insist on paying for your drink.

In reality?

He was quiet, polite, and slightly exasperated 90% of the time.

They weren't exactly friends, but they had a mutual understanding. Mostly because Hannah liked to invite herself into Gabriella's apartment whenever she saw the door open. The little girl had a relentless curiosity and absolutely no filter. Once, she had told Gabriella, "My daddy says you should clean your apartment, or you'll get anxiety."

Honestly? Fair assessment.

Gabriella cringed as Troy exhaled slowly, his head tilting slightly.

She mouthed, "I'm so sorry."

Hannah, unfazed, turned her big, inquisitive brown eyes up at her father. "Daddy, what's a lesbian?"

Troy cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the grocery bag. "It's… something I'll explain when you're older. And it's not polite to listen to others' conversations."

Hannah blinked. "Oh. Is it like a private conversation?"

Troy's lips twitched like he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Exactly."

Gabriella was going to melt into the floor.

Hannah wasn't done.

"Then why is she having it in the hallway?"

Gabriella actually whimpered before scrambling into her apartment and slamming the door shut.

She sagged against it, gripping her phone tighter as Taylor howled with laughter on the other end.

"Oh my god," Taylor wheezed. "Was that as bad as it sounded?"

"Taylor," Gabriella hissed. "I have to MOVE. I can never see them again. I'm going to have to fake my death and leave the city."

"No, you won't. That apartment is rent-controlled, they will have to drag you out."

Gabriella groaned, shoving off the door. "I'll call you back after a few glasses of wine."

She hung up, dropping her bag on the cluttered side table before heading straight to the kitchen. The first thing that needed to be done was pour herself a massive glass of wine.

The second thing she did was take a long, deep breath and promise herself she would never, ever have a personal conversation in the hallway again.

Her third mistake of the night was answering her mother's call.

It rang once.

"How was the date? Is it still going on? Is that why you didn't answer? Are you having sex? You're never going to get a man to marry you if you keep giving it away."

Gabriella didn't even bother with a greeting. She set the wine bottle down and pulled a glass closer to her lips. "Hi, Mom. How are you? What's going on in Arizona? Did Dad fix the garbage disposal yet?"

"Oh, don't change the subject." Her mother huffed. "And no, your father has been in the garage for three hours. Says he's working on it, but I know he's just avoiding folding the laundry. You'd think after thirty years of marriage, he'd come up with a better excuse."

Gabriella smirked as she sipped her wine. "To be fair, that's a skill. He once spent an entire day 'fixing' the lawnmower so he wouldn't have to help me pack for college."

Her mother sighed dramatically. "If I had known that man was so useless, I would have married your Tío Ruben instead."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Didn't Tío Ruben cheat on his wife with his kid's nanny?"

"That was never proven."

Gabriella took a slow sip of her wine. "Uh-huh. Anyway, I'm fine, Mom. The date was fine. He was a personal trainer. A little too into the whole gluten-free lifestyle for my taste."

Her mother gasped like Gabriella had just said the most offensive thing in the world. "What does he have against food?"

Gabriella grinned. "Ma, he's a personal trainer. It's their thing."

"That's not a thing. Starving is not a thing."

Gabriella let her mom rant about "these new-age people who don't eat rice like God intended" while she took her wine to the couch. She loved her mom, but sometimes the conversations felt like dodging emotional landmines.

She was single. She was 28. And according to her mother, this meant she was one bad decision away from being an old maid.

"Anyway," her mom finally sighed. "You know, you don't have to be so picky. Your cousin Melissa just got engaged, and she met her fiancé on Facebook Marketplace."

Gabriella blinked. "I—what?"

"She was selling her old couch, and he came to pick it up, and now they're engaged."

"Mom, that is not a love story. That is a Craigslist murder waiting to happen."

"Love happens in unexpected ways, mija. You're not going to meet anyone if you don't put yourself out there."

Gabriella resisted the urge to bang her head against the coffee table. "Mom. I literally went on a date tonight."

"Yes, and it was a disaster. That's my point. You need to let me set you up."

Gabriella groaned, sliding further into the couch. "Hard pass. The last time you set me up, the guy tried to pray with me before dinner."

"That's a good thing!"

"He asked God to cleanse me of my sins, Mom."

A pause.

"Well…maybe he had a point."

Gabriella nearly choked on her wine. "Okay, goodbye."

"Wait—before you go, Mindy wanted me to tell you that she might be coming home next weekend. She wants to do brunch."

Gabriella perked up. "Oh, really? That would be nice."

Mindy, her younger sister, was the golden child. Smart, driven, the only one in the family who had gone into an actual respectable career—family therapy. Gabriella loved her, but there was always this unspoken expectation that she should have been more like Mindy.

Less impulsive. More stable. Less likely to be caught talking about vibrators in the hallway.

"Alright," Gabriella sighed. "I love you, but I need to drown my sorrows in wine and reality TV."

Her mother sniffed. "Fine, but don't drink too much. Alcohol dries out your skin. You're already not getting any younger."

"Wow, Mom. Love you too."

She hung up before her mother could lecture her on the benefits of collagen supplements.

A Few Hours Later…

Gabriella had settled into her couch, fuzzy blanket wrapped around her, watching some trashy dating show where hot people with no jobs were stranded on an island and somehow still had perfect hair.

Her wine was half-finished.

Her will to date again? Completely gone.

A knock at the door made her groan.

She contemplated ignoring it. But then came a second knock—lighter, quicker.

Gabriella frowned.

That was not an adult knock. That was a small child knock.

With a sigh, she paused her show and dragged herself off the couch to open the door. There she found Hannah Bolton standing in a princess nightgown, clutching a stuffed rabbit. She glanced across the hall to find Troy's door open. The smell of something chard seeped into the hallway and towards her.

Gabriella blinked. "Uh. Hey, kiddo. What's up?"

Hannah looked up at her with wide, serious eyes. "Miss Montez, my daddy burned the cookies."

Gabriella bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Oh no."

"He said it's fine, but they smell bad, and I don't want to eat them."

A deep voice called from the apartment across the hall.

"Hannah, what did I say about bothering Miss Montez?"

Troy appeared in his doorway, arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit the tired single dad. His gray t-shirt was slightly wrinkled, his dark hair a little messier than usual, and there was a streak of flour on his forearm.

Gabriella grinned. "Did you actually burn the cookies?"

Troy exhaled. "It's not my fault. The recipe said 12 minutes."

"Were they on the top rack?"

His lips pressed together. "…Yes."

She shook her head. "Rookie mistake."

Hannah tugged at Gabriella's hand. "Do you have cookies?"

Gabriella hesitated. "…I have Oreos?"

Hannah's face lit up. "Can I have one?"

Troy sighed. "Hannah—"

"It's fine," Gabriella cut in. "Come on, kiddo. I'll even let you dunk them in milk."

Troy sighed again but didn't argue as Hannah happily marched into Gabriella's apartment like she lived there. Occasionally, Troy had asked Gabriella to watch Hannah. He didn't do it often, and he never did it last minute but Hannah had been over enough times to know exactly how to navigate Gabriella's apartment.

Before turning from the doorway Gabriella caught Troy's gaze, smirking. "Maybe next time, try the middle rack."

His lips twitched. "Noted."

Hannah made herself comfortable immediately. She bee-lined for the couch like a tiny, pajama-clad queen returning to her throne. Her stuffed rabbit, Mr. Whiskers, was tucked under one arm, and she kicked her feet up like she owned the place.

"What are you watching?"

Gabriella grinned. "Grown people stuff, what were you watching tonight?"

"The Little Mermaid."

Gabriella, amused, walked into the kitchen and grabbed the Oreos. "Alright, kid, how do you take your cookies?"

Hannah didn't even hesitate. "Three Oreos. A small cup of milk. No crumbs on Mr. Whiskers."

Gabriella smirked. "Ah. A woman who knows what she wants."

Troy, who had leaned against the doorframe, snorted softly.

"She gets that from her mother," he said, voice quieter now, a little distant.

Gabriella paused for a fraction of a second. She knew very little about Hannah's mother—Troy never talked about her, and Gabriella had never pried. She only knew what little bits Hannah had mentioned in passing, like how her mom used to paint her nails sparkly pink or how she smelled like oranges.

And, of course, the most important fact: she wasn't around anymore.

She didn't know if that meant divorce, abandonment, or something worse, but she knew enough to recognize the way Troy's face changed when the subject came up.

Carefully, Gabriella poured a small cup of milk and set it on the coffee table next to the Oreos.

"Alright, kiddo. No crumbs on Mr. Whiskers. It's the law."

Hannah grinned before dunking her first cookie.

Troy shook his head, watching his daughter get way too comfortable in Gabriella's living room.

"Sorry about this," he muttered. "She's…persistent."

Gabriella shrugged. "Eh, I don't mind. It's not like I had big Friday night plans."

Troy smirked. "Oh? You mean you weren't planning on bringing home Gym Guy and talking about meal prep all night?"

Gabriella groaned, taking a very large sip of her wine. "Don't even joke about that. He tried to sell me protein powder."

Troy huffed out a laugh, then nodded toward her wine glass. "That bad, huh?"

"Worse."

Troy hesitated, glancing toward Hannah, who was happily humming to herself as she dunked another Oreo. Then he looked back at Gabriella.

"I have cookies and whiskey in my apartment. If you need something stronger."

In the two years they had been neighbors, Troy had never really offered Gabriella a drink. They didn't socialize much; their interactions were mostly transactional—his handyman skills in exchange for favors related to Hannah.

One morning, when Gabriella's car wouldn't start, Troy took care of it without hesitation. In return, Gabriella stepped in to fix a French braid Troy had been struggling with, despite his best efforts and a YouTube tutorial.

On another occasion, Troy had helped her move Ms. Veldin's old dresser downstairs from the third floor, and in return, she helped him sow a button back onto Hannah's favorite jacket.

Then he asked if she could watch Hannah while he worked overtime. In exchange, he would fix her kitchen cabinet shelf that came loose. The more she thought about it. Maybe their relationship was strictly transactional.

Gabriella raised an eyebrow. "Are you…offering me alcohol, Mr. Bolton?"

He smirked. "I'm just saying. You look like you've had a long night."

She narrowed her eyes, pretending to think about it. Then she called over to Hannah. "Hey, kid. What's your dad's cookie-making rating? Scale of one to ten?"

Hannah, completely serious, held up a single finger. "One."

Troy sighed. "Wow. Betrayed by my own blood."

Gabriella grinned. "Fine. Whiskey it is."

Troy

Fifteen minutes later, and they were back in his apartment. Troy hadn't expected Gabriella Montez to be standing in his living room. But here she was.

He watched as she took in the space, her gaze sweeping over the dark hardwood floors, the neatly arranged bookshelf, and the gray couch that, despite appearances, had seen its fair share of spills—glitter glue, strawberry milk, juice boxes knocked over in bursts of excitement. He worked hard to keep the place clean, to make it feel like a home, even if most days it felt like he was fighting a losing battle against the never-ending chaos of raising a six-year-old.

Hannah had already disappeared into her room, Oreos in hand, fully absorbed in The Little Mermaid she was rewatching for the hundredth time. That left Gabriella here, quiet but observant, no doubt comparing his place to hers. He'd seen glimpses of her apartment before—mail stacked haphazardly in a basket, shoes kicked off wherever they landed, a coffee table covered in candles and coasters, plus the occasional forgotten snack wrapper.

His space was the opposite. Organized. Intentional. Not because he was naturally neat, but because he had to be.

Of course, that didn't mean Hannah hadn't left her mark. There wasn't a single part of his home that hadn't been claimed by her in some way. A bin of toys sat beside the TV, a Barbie lying facedown on the floor or the doll brush from being abandoned on the windowsill. Tiny plastic shoes had a way of migrating under furniture, only to be found later with a curse and a bruised foot. Even the bathroom wasn't his own—he'd surrendered to the mermaid shower curtain and the bright yellow SpongeBob soap dispenser long ago.

His world was no longer just his, and honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Troy poured two drinks and handed her a glass. "Neat okay?"

Gabriella took a sip, eyes narrowing slightly as the burn hit her throat. "Damn. That's good."

Troy smirked. "It better be. I don't drink bad whiskey."

Troy leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as he watched Gabriella take in his apartment. She didn't say much, but he could tell she was cataloging the differences between his space and hers.

She looked so out of place here, like a splash of color in an otherwise neutral palette. Her chestnut curls were messily clipped atop her head, stray strands escaping the claw clip and framing her face. A Free Britney T-shirt, black yoga pants, and the most ridiculous fuzzy pink slippers he'd ever seen.

And yet, somehow, it suited her.

She was comfortable in her own skin in a way he found… distracting. Maybe it was the easy way she moved or the way she didn't seem the least bit self-conscious standing there in all her casual, slightly chaotic glory. She was the kind of person who didn't bother pretending to have it all together, and maybe that was part of what made her so interesting to him.

"Didn't peg you for a Britney fan," he mused, nodding toward her shirt.

Gabriella looked down at it, as if she'd forgotten what she was wearing, then smirked. "Oh, I absolutely am. I even have a playlist for when I pregame."

He raised an eyebrow. "You still pregame?"

"Absolutely not," she admitted with a laugh. "But it makes me feel young just knowing the playlist exists."

Troy chuckled, shaking his head. Thirty minutes ago he hadn't expected Gabriella to end up in his living room, but now that she was here, he wasn't in any rush for her to leave.

Gabriella wandered toward the bookshelf, scanning the titles. "You read a lot?"

Troy leaned against the counter, sipping his drink. "When I have time."

She pulled out a book at random, "The Art of War." Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, this is concerning."

Troy chuckled. "It's a classic."

She slid it back into place, and then spotted another title that made her pause.

"Parenting for Single Dads."

Her fingers hovered over the spine, but she didn't touch it. He thought she might tease him, poke fun or maybe even make some off-handed remark about the book even existing.

But she didn't.

Instead, she turned back toward him and said, "So. Do you always keep good whiskey around, or do you just have a secret drinking problem?"

Troy huffed a quiet laugh. "I bartended in college. Got used to drinking decent stuff."

Gabriella grinned. "Bartender, huh? That tracks."

"Oh?" His eyebrows lifted. "Why's that?"

She took another sip. "You give off 'hot bartender with a tragic past' energy."

Troy blinked. Then he barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "That is…an extremely specific vibe."

Hot bartender. She thought he was hot. Hot with a tragic past.

How on the nose?

He didn't always live like this. His life had been different once. Perfect even. Until the accident. Four years ago his wife passed away after an unlucky crash, where a driver had fallen asleep at the wheel.

He'd sold their family home, packed up their lives and moved here, to New Mexico to be closer to his mom. He needed help. Raising a daughter on his own was not how he had expected to be living his life.

Gabriella shrugged. "I'm just saying. If this was a movie, you'd be the mysterious, brooding bartender with a kid, and I'd be the hot mess neighbor who keeps stumbling into your life."

Another on-the-nose assessment.

Because yeah, Gabriella was a little bit of a mess. She was a good neighbor for the most part. Not intrusive, not loud or rude. But she did keep stumbling into his life. Whether she knocked on his door because her car needed a jump right in the middle of a hair disaster, moving furniture she swindled off and older woman upstairs, or for anything related to tools.

Honestly the woman didn't own a screwdriver. He'd been over once to fix a cabinet door and when asked for a Philips screwdriver, she handed him a butter knife. Now he kept a tool bag ready to go whenever Gabriella knocked on his door with a "favor" request.

Not that he minded much, she got along well with Hannah and he knew that his daughter needed a female presence in her life. So he never wanted to give Gabriella a reason to not like them.

Troy tilted his glass slightly. "And how does that movie end?"

Gabriella hesitated. Then, very seriously, she said, "With you figuring out how to make cookies that don't taste like ash."

Troy let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. She was funny. She was cute. For a moment he wondered if all that personality also bled into other aspects of her life. While they were pretending their exchange in the hallway from before hadn't occurred, he couldn't help but remember her words. No offense, but I need actual sex in my life.

He could relate.

Being a single dad with a six-year-old daughter who was watching your every move did not leave time for a sex life. It had been a while since he'd been on a date, let alone a date that had ended up in the bedroom. Fatherhood had left him with a very serious case of celibacy.

He wondered what her excuse was. She didn't have a kid watching her every move and depending on her everyday for entertainment, comfort, and structure. She seemed to come and go from her apartment as she pleased. He didn't often see guys around, in the hallway or outside of her apartment. He wondered briefly about her sex life. If it was as inactive as his own. And again why?

She was attractive, seemingly bendy, and capable. What man in his right man had passed up the opportunity to watch her delicious breast bounce up and down while she rode his cock. Or completely dismiss the opportunity of bending her over the kitchen sink and pounding into her from behind while strumming her pussy until she was clenching around his cock.

And he should probably not be standing here thinking about his hot mess neighbor like that at all with his six-year-old daughter right down the hall.

Don't be that guy.

She knocked back the rest of her whiskey and set the glass down. "Alright, bartender. I'm officially feeling the whiskey. I should go before I start trauma-dumping and ruin the mystery."

Troy smirked. "Wouldn't want that."

She turned toward the door, then paused. "Hey, Troy?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

She grinned. "Next time you set something on fire in the kitchen, just call me first. I'll save Hannah from the trauma."

Troy huffed a laugh. "Noted."

And with that, Gabriella headed back to her apartment. Leaving behind a light floral scent that was going to drive him a little crazy in her absence.

Gabriella

Sunday morning, Gabriella woke up to the smell of something burning.

For a split second, she panicked—had she left the stove on? Had she somehow lit something on fire in her sleep?

But then she heard the muffled clatter of a pan dropping, followed by a distinctly male curse from across the hall.

She exhaled. Troy.

Which meant one of two things: One. He was trying to cook again. Two. Hannah was about to show up at her door with another complaint.

As if on cue, a tiny fist knocked at her door.

Gabriella groaned, dragging herself out of bed. She shuffled toward the door in sweatpants, a messy bun, and a general aura of morning regret before opening it to find Hannah standing there in dinosaur pajamas.

The little girl blinked up at her. "Miss Montez, my daddy burned the bacon."

Gabriella sighed. "Of course he did."

Hannah gave her a solemn nod like this was a tragedy they both had to bear.

Then, from across the hall, Troy's voice rang out: "Hannah, I told you, stop bothering Miss Montez in the mornings!"

Hannah turned her head and yelled back, "She doesn't mind!"

Troy appeared in his doorway, hair tousled, t-shirt slightly wrinkled, spatula still in his hand. "She definitely minds."

And … Hello Daddy!

Her mouth may have dried a little at the sight of this man. Were those a pair of gray sweatpants hanging loosely around his waist? A rare sighting of Troy in his lazy dad attire. A form-fitting white shirt with an orange stain on his abdomen.

Gabriella smirked. "I mean, she's not wrong."

Troy gave her a flat look. "You're encouraging this."

"Maybe." Take off the shirt and let's talk about it.

Hannah tugged at Gabriella's sweatpants reminding her that this was not the time or place for fantasies. "Miss Montez, do you have breakfast?"

Gabriella yawned, rubbing her eyes. "I have coffee and a leftover bagel. Not exactly a gourmet spread, kiddo."

Hannah beamed like this was the best news in the world. "That's better than burnt bacon!"

Troy pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about "betrayal" and "no loyalty in this family."

Gabriella, still half-asleep, lifted an eyebrow. "You know, you could just…not burn the bacon."

Troy exhaled. "Okay, Gordon Ramsay. Next time, you make the bacon."

Gabriella grinned. "Deal."

That's how it started.

It wasn't planned or even discussed, really. But after that morning, Hannah started showing up at Gabriella's door every weekend, dragging her dad along for breakfast.

At first, Troy grumbled about not wanting to be a burden.

But by the third Saturday, he was bringing coffee before she could complain.

By the fifth Saturday, Gabriella had a designated "Hannah Shelf" in her fridge.

And by the eighth? It wasn't just breakfast.

It was random Tuesday night dinners.

They were running into each other in the laundry room.

It was Hannah knocking just to say hi.

It was…becoming something.

And that? Was a problem.

Her thoughts about Troy had begun to morph into something … messy. Something a little more comfortable than she would have preferred from her across-the-hallway neighbor. Just last night when she was leaving his apartment after tacos she had to stop herself from giving in to the urge to kiss him at the door.

Everything had been normal, he texted her about tacos and she said sure. After a long day at work, she had welcomed the idea of coming home, changing into something comfortable and not having to fend for herself. So she walked across the hall with some green homemade Verde sauce and joined them. Hannah recounted her 100th day of school presentation and went into detail about the assignment and how she and Troy had stuck 100 googly eyes onto a monster drawing.

Hannah was an animated storyteller and it was always so adorable when she dug into a topic and had a mini full-blown conversation about it. And maybe those mini-conversations were turning out to be better than some of the other adult conversations she was having.

When it was time for bed, she offered to clean up while Troy helped Hannah get ready and it had felt completely natural. Like, this domestic act between them was just an everyday occurrence. After tucking Hannah into bed he walked Gabriella to the door and something felt a little different. Just a little off-centered as he stood there, leaning in but also not leaning in.

Like just maybe, he too, was thinking about kissing her.

Tonight she was on the phone with her mother. The conversation had begun with another mind-blowing debate about Tio Ruben's latest womanizing adventure. Then about her Tia Leica's three boys who had gotten in trouble with the neighbors for crashing into his mailbox with their mini motorized jeep.

Her mother could take over CNN with her gossip-reporting energy. And honestly, she welcomed the distraction because she didn't want to think about the very real possibility that she had a little bit of a crush on her neighbor.

She really didn't need a complication like that in her life. The man was hot, his kid was adorable. But she wasn't so sure she was instant family material. Especially after learning about his late wife and their tragic loss.

Honestly, both of them had been through so much in life already and they were both still just starting their journey. Gabriella wasn't so sure she could give them what they needed.

It was past eleven when someone knocked at her door. She was up, listening to the television as she played on her phone. Her finger paused as she listened again with a frown. It was too late for Hannah. Too late for Taylor.

Which left…

She got up and opened the door. Her eyes met Troy's, who looked a bit embarrassed.

His shirt was slightly rumpled. Hair tousled like he'd run his hands through it too many times.

And his face?

Uncharacteristically unguarded.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Troy exhaled. "I need a drink."

Gabriella blinked. "Well, damn. Is it that bad?"

Troy ran a hand through his hair. "Work stuff. Just," He exhaled again. "I don't know. I came home, sat through three episodes of Dragon Tales, hosted a tea party with Mr. Whiskers, and then had to read four bedtime stories before she finally fell asleep."

Gabriella hesitated.

This. This was dangerous. They didn't do this. This wasn't a random hallway interaction. This wasn't Hannah dragging him over.

They'd never been alone like this.

This was Troy choosing to be here.

"Sometimes you're the only other adult I talk to who isn't a student or a colleague. I don't want to take advantage of that, so if you don't want me here or if you're busy, I get it."

At that, her chest deflated a little and she pushed the door open a little wider. "Come on in, bartender. I've got whiskey."

After pouring a drink and shutting the lights and TV off in her apartment they made their way over to his. Hannah was still fast asleep and they ended up on his tiny apartment balcony, sitting side by side, whiskey glasses resting on the ledge.

Troy had loosened up a little, shoulders more relaxed, expression softer.

But Gabriella?

She was trying very hard not to overanalyze the way her stomach flipped every time he looked at her.

"So," she said. "Are you actually going to tell me what's wrong, or are we just drinking in broody silence?"

Troy huffed a quiet laugh. "You ever have one of those days where everything just…piles up?"

"Oh, every day." She said with a nod. "I'm drowning in student loans and bad decisions. Seriously, my mother reminds me on a biweekly basis."

Troy smirked. "Relatable."

A pause.

Then, quieter—"I just…worry I'm screwing up with Hannah."

Gabriella stilled. Because that was new. Troy didn't talk about parenting. He just did it. It was like being a dad was hard wired into him. She couldn't picture him any other way. He showed up, took care of his daughter, and handled everything within his ability to handle. Occasionally if he needed it, and only if he had been left with no other options did he ask for help.

But now? Now he was saying it out loud.

Gabriella watched him for a moment, then said, "You're not screwing up."

Troy sighed. "You don't know that."

"I do, actually. Because your kid literally abandoned you over burnt bacon to hang out with me."

That made him chuckle.

Gabriella nudged his arm. "Seriously. You're a good dad, Troy."

He looked at her then. Really looked. And for a second, just a second, the air felt different. Charged. Electric somehow.

Gabriella swallowed. "So what happened?"

"I went on a date yesterday."

Gabriella blinked, trying to keep her expression neutral. A date. Troy had said it so casually, like it was just another thing to mention in conversation. No hesitation, no awareness of the way her stomach twisted at the words.

She didn't even know he was dating. Not that it mattered. She wasn't going to go there. She couldn't go there. Hannah needed grownups in her life. Not people like Gabriella. Gabriella was aunt material, she was the kind of adult who kept Oreos and wine in stock. She made girl dinners and cursed frequently. She didn't have that instinct Troy did. That self sacrificing nature parents had when it came to their kids.

So the fact that her neighbor was dating.

It shouldn't make her stomach swoop like it just did.

"Oh." She paused. "Well. That explains the existential crisis."

Troy huffed a laugh. "It wasn't a crisis."

She raised an eyebrow. "You came to my apartment at midnight asking for a drink. Feels crisis-adjacent."

Inside, her thoughts raced again. Why does this bother her? They were just neighbors, friends, at best. They traded favors, made each other's lives a little easier. That was it. It had always been that way. So why did it feel like someone just took a pin to the stupid little balloon of hope she didn't even realize she was holding?

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together. "I just…I don't know. It was awful."

And the butterflies in her belly flapped their wings again in relief.

"Awful how?"

"Awful like I had nothing to talk about. Like I could literally feel my own personality fading away in real-time."

Gabriella let out a soft laugh. "Dramatic. I love it. Continue."

Troy shook his head, exhaling slowly. "She was nice. Perfectly nice. She works in the English department with me, an adjunct professor. Smart, funny. In theory, I should've enjoyed it."

"But?"

"But I didn't."

Gabriella leaned back against the patio chair, watching him carefully. "What, did she talk about CrossFit the whole time? Try to sell you essential oils?"

Troy smirked. "No, it wasn't her. It was me."

Gabriella frowned. "Elaborate."

Troy exhaled, rolling his whiskey glass between his hands.

"I just felt…boring."

Gabriella scoffed at that. "You're not boring."

"I am, though." He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "We were sitting there, and I realized I had nothing to bring to the table. Every pop culture reference I made was outdated. The last R-rated movie I saw in theaters was probably pre-pandemic. My most exciting recent purchase was a goddamn humidifier. I don't go out. I don't do anything interesting. I teach, I grade papers, I make dinner, I parent, and that's it."

He took a sip of whiskey, shaking his head. "I felt like I was talking to someone from an entirely different planet. And at the end of the night, I didn't even want to kiss her. I just wanted to come home."

A silence settled between them.

Gabriella winced, "and this is someone from work?"

"Yeah," Troy stared at his drink, swirling it once. "I don't hang out in bars or wherever you go to meet people. I figured people meet people at work all the time. So when she asked I just said sure."

"Maybe," Gabriella offered. "But also maybe if you haven't been on a date in a while you don't start with co-workers."

He nodded. "Yeah, I kinda came to the same conclusion."

She laughed again. "Okay," Gabriella said with a raised brow. "So what's the plan?" she asked.

"What plan?" Troy signed, "This morning when I went to hand out a quiz I noticed pink glitter all over the papers. Hannah must have put her Barbie doll in there when we were at the park the other day."

"Well, you're a girl Dad. Pink glitter is just another one of those things you have to endure."

"Yeah, but it doesn't really scream out sexual attraction." He grunted.

She laughed again. "You don't need to worry about that."

"Gabriella I haven't been that hot bartender in a long time," he said, his shoulders falling a little. "My people skills are rusty, and my kid takes up 90% of my physical energy." He shook his head. "How on earth do people with kids find the time to even consider having sex."

"Even without kids, finding someone to have sex with is hard."

They were both quiet for a little while. The awkwardness of her statement hanging out there between them. She wondered if it could be considered a proposition? She hadn't meant it too.

Nervously she filled the silence. "My mother constantly reminds me that when she was my age she had a husband and two kids."

"How old are you?" Troy asked as he tipped his glass slightly.

"Twenty eight."

Troy huffed. "You're young with a lifetime ahead of you."

"Not really. Pregnancies after 30 are called geriatric pregnancies. So actually, I'm practically a relic."

"Well," He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I'm thirty-three years old."

Gabriella tsked. "Sir, I'm afraid I have to inform you that you're up way past your bedtime."

He laughed, a full hearty laugh. Probably the first one she's ever really heard. The sound made her insides flutter.

The two settled a little and she lifted her glass draining the last of her whiskey. "Well it is late," she says quietly. "And I have to work in the morning."

Troy shifted in his seat. "Jesus. Sorry. I'm really out here trauma-dumping on you. When you probably have a few better things to do."

Gabriella smirked. "You showed up uninvited at midnight. What are neighbors for?"

Troy huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes.

Then, Gabriella nudged his knee with hers.

"For what it's worth? I think you're interesting."

Troy glanced at her.

"Same."

Taylor: why do i feel like ur gonna fall for the hot single dad

Taylor: pls confirm or deny so i can prepare my "i told you so" speech

Gabriella stared at her screen.

Then, with all the conviction of a woman about to lie to herself, she texted back:

Gabriella: Absolutely not.

Troy

Troy wasn't sure when he'd become the kind of man who showed up at a woman's door clutching a stuffed rabbit like it was a medical emergency.

But here he was.

At 11:42 p.m., standing outside Gabriella Montez's door like a goddamn idiot for a second time.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before knocking twice.

For a moment, nothing.

Then, shuffling from inside. A faint, muffled "Who the fuck—" followed by the sound of locks clicking open.

The door swung inward to reveal Gabriella, sleepy, disheveled, and wearing an oversized t-shirt that said "Don't Ask Me, I Just Work Here."

Troy blinked. "Nice shirt."

Gabriella squinted at him. "Why are you here?"

Troy sighed. "We have a situation."

That woke her up. Her eyes sharpened, arms crossing over her chest. "Oh no. What happened?"

He didn't answer. Just held up a nearly decapitated Mr. Whiskers.

She exhaled through her nose but stepped aside. "Come on, Get in here before someone calls the bunny police."

Troy walked in, shutting the door behind him. "Please tell me you can fix it."

She let out a sigh and took the bunny from him, as she led him inside. His eyes dropped to her backside, noticing her bare legs.

Troy almost regretted coming.

Because this Gabriella?

This Gabriella looked unfairly soft.

Sleep-rumpled, hair messy, drowning in an oversized t-shirt that had probably belonged to an ex-boyfriend at some point. It was worn and slightly off her shoulder, revealing smooth, bare skin.

Troy was suddenly too aware of the fact that he had never seen her like this before.

Not dressed for work. Not in her frumpy sweats. Not ready for a night out.

Just…Gabriella.

Bare-faced. Sleepy. Real.

His eyes scan the room. The apartment was messy in a way that felt lived-in. A blanket thrown over the couch, an empty wine glass on the coffee table, a half-read book flipped open on the armrest.

It was warm. Unpolished. Comfortable.

Troy followed her, watching as she wordlessly padded over to a drawer, grabbed a small sewing kit, then plopped onto the couch.

She patted the cushion beside her. "Sit."

Troy hesitated. "You don't even want details?"

Gabriella yawned, stretching her arms over her head and Troy immediately looked away, because Jesus Christ, he needed to get his thoughts under control.

"Just another late night crisis from my favorite professor." Gabriella said. "As for the bunny, I assume he's seen some shit."

Troy exhaled a quiet laugh, finally sitting down. "Something like that."

Gabriella held up the bunny, studying it with a quiet hum.

Then she grabbed a needle and thread, cutting straight to business. "Okay, Professor, keep me awake. Talk to me."

Troy blinked. "About what?"

She lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. You're an English professor. Say something profound."

Troy huffed a quiet laugh. "You just want me to monologue like I'm in a movie?"

"Yes, please. Extra points if it sounds like Shakespeare."

Troy smirked, watching as she threaded the needle with expert precision. "I teach literature, not drama."

"Potato, po-tah-to."

Troy rolled his eyes.

And then, because he was tired, and a little reckless, and very aware of the way she was sitting so close, he said, "Alright. Let me tell you about the origin of Mr. Whiskers."

Gabriella glanced up, lips twitching. "Oh, this I need to hear."

Troy cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the couch. "It was a dark and stormy night—"

"Lame."

"Fine. A long time ago, in a Target clearance aisle far, far away—"

Gabriella snorted.

Troy smirked. "He was a gift. A peace offering, if you will. A desperate attempt from a single father who had no idea how to comfort a toddler in the wake of her first big meltdown."

Gabriella's hands didn't pause, but something in her expression softened. "What happened?"

Troy exhaled. "Hannah was three. She wanted to wear her Elsa costume to daycare in the middle of July. Full thing—wig, gloves, the works."

Gabriella smiled. "Sounds reasonable."

"Not according to the daycare's dress code."

Gabriella shook her head. "Bureaucracy ruins everything."

Troy chuckled. "Tell me about it. I thought maybe some shirts with Elsa on them. A compromise?"

"With a three year old?"

He grunted. "I was desperate. Anyway she had a full meltdown. Tears, screaming. I had to carry her out like a sack of potatoes."

Gabriella smirked, looping the thread through the fabric. "And Mr. Whiskers?"

Troy leaned back slightly, watching her work. "Impulse buy. I grabbed him on the way out of Target, thinking maybe a new friend would help."

A small smile tugged at Gabriella's lips. "And did it?"

Troy nodded. "She took one look at him and stopped crying immediately. Like flipping a switch."

Gabriella softened. Not just in the way she looked at him, but in the way she touched the bunny. Carefully. With unspoken reverence.

Something unwound in his chest.

She wasn't just fixing the toy.

She understood why it mattered.

Troy swallowed.

Looked away.

He couldn't go there. Especially with her. Gabriella was off limits. Hannah adored her. She was their friend. Another safe space for his daughter in a world that didn't hand those out freely.

His mother had even asked about her, noticing Hannah's stories seemed to have included her more and more lately. At first she thought Miss Montez was a teacher. Eventually, she discovered that Miss Montez was his very single and age appropriate neighbor from across the hall.

The interrogations that followed. He even gone on his first date ever just to make a point that this little thing between them wasn't a big deal.

And when that went south, she was the first and only person he wanted to talk about it with. Because surprisingly, not only had Gabriella become a safe place for his daughter but there was something about her that felt like a safe space for him as well.

He cleared his throat and tired to refocus, "How do you know how to do this?"

Gabriella smirked. "My abuela was a seamstress. I spent a lot of my childhood sitting under a sewing table playing with fabric scraps. It was either learn to sew or get yelled at for making a mess."

Troy smiled. "And yet, your apartment is a disaster 90% of the time."

Gabriella flicked his knee with the end of the thread. "And yet, you keep showing up here."

Troy hesitated.

She wasn't wrong.

He kept showing up. Because it was easy. Because she made things easy. And that scared the hell out of him.

Gabriella tied off the thread, inspected her work, then held up Mr. Whiskers like a surgeon who had just saved a life.

"All stitched up. Bunny life expectancy extended by at least three years."

Troy huffed a quiet laugh. "Hannah's going to be thrilled."

Gabriella smirked, handing it back to him. "You're welcome, Professor."

Troy took the bunny but didn't leave right away.

His fingers brushed hers for half a second too long.

Gabriella's smirk faltered.

The air shifted.

Troy swallowed.

This was the part where he should stand up and go.

Say thank you. Go back across the hall. Keep things normal.

But instead, he was sitting on her couch at midnight, watching the way the dim kitchen light caught the curve of her cheekbone, the slope of her collarbone, the way her lips parted just slightly like she was about to say something.

Jesus Christ.

He needed to get out of here.

Troy cleared his throat, standing. "I should let you get some sleep."

Gabriella blinked. A slow, calculated blink. Then she leaned back against the couch, stretching her arms over her head with a lazy, knowing smirk.

"Good idea. Can't have you pining over me too hard, Professor."

Troy exhaled a laugh. But his pulse was pounding.

Because she was joking. She was always joking. But this time, it didn't feel funny.

This time, it felt dangerously close to the truth.

Gabriella

Gabriella had exactly one plan for the rest of the evening:

Eat the remaining pepperoni in her fridge, drink half a bottle of wine, and maybe—just maybe—feel sorry for herself for a solid twenty minutes before watching trashy reality TV.

Because tonight? Had been a disaster.

Not just bad. Not just boring. Catastrophic.

And against her better judgment, she had seen it coming.

The guy—Ryan? Ricky? Whatever, had seemed fine. Nice, even. A finance bro who dressed well, smelled good, and checked all the "appropriate dating material" boxes. But the second they sat down, she knew.

Knew that it was going nowhere. Knew that she was bored out of her fucking mind.

Knew that the only time she'd felt remotely interested in a man lately was when a certain English professor had stood in her apartment last week looking like he didn't know what to do with his hands after she'd stitched up a stuffed rabbit.

And that? That was a problem. Because she shouldn't feel that way. She'd already decided they were just friends. She already came to terms with the fact that he was dating. That one day he was gonna come home with another woman.

But then he wasn't dating. And he was doing things like watching her when she was talking to Hannah or staring at her in her darkened apartment like he wanted to kiss her. Maybe even more than just kissing her.

And she would have let him.

But Troy wasn't making a move.

Troy was staring. Troy was lingering. Troy was tripping over his own feet when she got too close.

But he wasn't doing anything.

And if she thought about why that bothered her so much, she was going to start screaming.

Her mother's voice was already ringing in her head.

"Mija, you are wasting your golden years. Do you know how many women your age are already mothers? Grandmothers, even?"

"Mom, I'm twenty-eight."

"Exactly! Do you think you can just blink and suddenly be thirty-five with a husband and babies? No! You are wasting precious time!"

Gabriella had hung up immediately.

And then, like a fool, she'd gone on this godforsaken date.

Now here she was, back at her apartment before eight, dolled up with nowhere to go.

She sighed, digging her keys out of her bag as she reached her door.

And then, before she could get it open, the door across the hall opened.

Troy.

He stepped out, one hand running through his hair, a paperback book tucked under his arm.

When he looked up he stilled. And Seemingly before he could stop himself, he muttered, "Oh. Wow."

Gabriella's entire mood shifted. He was dressed up too, which wasn't something she saw often. Slacks, a crisp button-down, the sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms. It wasn't anything flashy, nothing overly polished or stiff, but damn if he didn't look good. The kind of good that made her pause, tilt her head slightly, and appreciate the view.

Hello Professor.

Biting back a smirk as she raised an eyebrow. "Wow?"

Troy blinked like he'd just processed what he said out loud.

His mouth pressed into a thin line, like he was fighting some internal battle.

Gabriella, fully aware of the way his eyes flicked over her dress, tried very hard to pretend this wasn't the most fun she'd had all evening.

"You, uh…" Troy cleared his throat. "You look nice."

Gabriella hummed, tilting her head. "Nice? That's it? I just got a 'wow' and now I've been downgraded to 'nice'?"

Troy exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know what I meant."

Oh, she did.

And she was going to enjoy this.

She shifted her weight, leaning against her door frame. "Where's Hannah?"

"Her grandmothers," he said quietly.

"Oh," she raised a brow. "Hot date?"

Troy gave her a look. The kind that said, - Are you serious?

Gabriella shrugged. "Hey, I had to ask. You keep coming to my apartment at weird hours. A girl starts to wonder."

Troy let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head.

Then he crossed his arms, leaning against his own door frame like this was just another casual conversation.

Like his eyes hadn't just trailed down her legs before he caught himself.

"What about you?" he asked, nodding toward her dress. "Big night out?"

Gabriella lifted a shoulder, her smirk just a little sharp. "Horrible date."

Troy's expression flickered.

Subtle. Barely there. But she caught it.

The way his jaw tensed. The way his fingers tapped against his arm once, twice, like he had something to say but wasn't going to say it.

And Gabriella, against her better judgment felt something warm and smug curl in her chest.

Because he didn't like hearing that. He didn't like thinking about her with someone else. And that was very, very interesting.

"That bad?" Troy finally asked.

Gabriella sighed dramatically. "The man spent twenty minutes explaining tax deductions."

Troy blinked. "That…does sound awful."

"Oh, it gets worse." Gabriella pointed at her earrings. "You see these? Pretty, right? He said they looked 'expensive' in a tone that implied I should be worried about my financial decisions."

Troy winced. "Yikes."

"And then." Gabriella held up a finger. "Then, he asked if I had ever considered switching to a budgeting app so I could 'focus on long-term financial goals' before we even ordered drinks."

Troy's face did something complicated.

Like he wasn't sure if he should laugh or commit murder.

Finally, he shook his head. "I'm starting to understand why you're home so early."

Gabriella sighed, sliding her key into the lock. "Yep. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hot date with some pepperoni and a bottle of wine."

She pushed the door open, but Troy's voice stopped her.

"Hey."

She turned back.

Troy hesitated for a split second.

And then so casually it almost seemed effortless he said, "If I promise not to talk about tax deductions, will you share the pepperoni?"

Gabriella felt herself grin.

While they had spent time together before without Hannah physically in the room, this was different. This was the first time they would be truly alone, no little footsteps padding down the hall, no Disney movies playing in the background, no half-listening for interruptions.

Because this time, Hannah wasn't just across the hall or tucked away in her bedroom.

This time, it was just the two of them.

Gabriella could feel the nervous excitement humming beneath her skin, an unfamiliar mix of anticipation and uncertainty. They had danced around something unspoken for a while now, stolen glances, lingering touches, teasing that always felt like it could turn into something more. But tonight, there was nothing to distract them. No built-in excuses.

Just them. And whatever this was about to turn into.

His fingers were tapping against his leg like he was trying to play it cool. Like he knew what she was thinking.

And maybe he did. Maybe he was counting on it. His expression was guarded, but his body language gave him away.

Gabriella tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Depends. Wine or Whiskey?"

Troy smirked. "Wine."

Gabriella hummed. "Fine. But if you start analyzing the narrative structure of my reality shows, you're out."

Troy huffed a laugh. "Deal."

And just like that, she stepped aside, holding the door open. Troy hesitated for only a second. Then, slowly, he stepped inside.

And as Gabriella closed the door behind him, she thought, Well, well, well. Look who finally caved. Because Troy might not have made a move yet.

But he was here.

And that? Felt like the start of something.

Gabriella: You are NOT going to believe who is in my apartment right now.

Taylor: Omg. Finally a date who made it past the threshold! Are we about to end the drought!

Gabriella: No, not my date. My date was a disaster. Troy.

Taylor: SHUT UP.

Gabriella: Apparently Hannah's at her grandmothers.

Taylor: Are you two finally getting it on? Because I have been WAITING for this moment.

Gabriella: It does feel a little different tonight.

Taylor: Lmao. Girl, c'mon. He is in your apartment. No kid. This is major. What's he doing there? Fixing something? Taking his shirt off while he does it?

Gabriella: Pouring some wine. Maybe Netflix and Chill.

Taylor: "Netflix and Chill" sounds dangerously close to foreplay.

Gabriella: I hate you.

Taylor: No, you love me. But not as much as you love Troy.

Gabriella: BYE.

Taylor: Send me live updates. Or at least tell me if he sits on your couch all sexy-like.

Troy

Troy had no excuse.

No excuse for being here. No excuse for stepping inside. No excuse for letting Gabriella playfully hand him a glass of wine like this was just a normal Friday night and not the most dangerous situation he'd put himself in all week.

Hannah was at her grandmother's And that meant he was free for the night. And somehow, rather than going out for a late night coffee s where with one of the professors, he was here.

Troy sat on one end of the couch, watching as Gabriella, still in her date dress, still looking unfairly gorgeous kicked off her heels with a dramatic sigh and flopped down next to him.

"You know," she said, reaching for the pepperoni she'd placed on the coffee table, "if you told me this morning that my Friday night would end with me drinking wine and eating deli meat with my neighbor, I'd have been very concerned about my life choices."

Troy smirked, swirling his wine glass. "I feel like I should be offended."

Gabriella turned her head, grinning. "You shouldn't. You're a step up from my actual date. I'd rather sit here with you than listen to one more word about compound interest."

Troy chuckled, but he was too aware of her. Too aware of how close she was. Too aware of the fact that this felt…natural.

And that? That was a problem. Because in his six years of life as a single father, he had to keep a level head when it came to the few constants in Hannah's life. And Gabriella had turned into one of those constants.

Gabriella stretched her legs out, propping her bare feet on the coffee table.

"Alright, Professor," she said, tilting her head toward him. "Tell me something interesting."

Troy huffed a quiet laugh. "That's vague."

"You're an English professor. Vague is your whole brand."

Troy smirked, taking a sip of wine. "Alright. How about this, did you know the first recorded 'knock-knock' joke was written in 1606?"

Gabriella blinked. "What?"

Troy shrugged. "It's true. Shakespeare's Macbeth. Act 2, Scene 3."

Gabriella laughed, eyes bright. "You're telling me Shakespeare was out here cracking dad jokes before dad jokes were even a thing?"

Troy grinned, relaxing against the couch. "It would appear so."

Gabriella smirked, swirling her wine. "You know, if you'd busted out fun facts like that on your date, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad."

Troy sighed, shaking his head. "Trust me. My dating life is beyond saving."

Gabriella arched an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. You're smart, you're funny, you clean up well, what's the issue?"

Troy hesitated. Because the real issue? Was sitting right next to him. Looking at him like she actually gave a damn about his answer.

Like she'd noticed the way he flinched when she mentioned dating. Like she'd been waiting for him to admit something.

He exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against his glass.

"I think…" he started, voice quieter now. "I think I spent so much time being a dad first that I forgot how to be anything else."

Gabriella's expression softened.

Not pitying. Not patronizing. Just…soft.

"I don't think you forgot." she said simply. "I think you just need the right person to remind you."

Troy's stomach tightened. Because she said it so effortlessly. Like she wasn't even aware of what she was doing to him.

Like she wasn't sitting here inches away, in a dress that made his brain short-circuit, sipping wine in her apartment like this was just another night.

Troy cleared his throat as he watched her shift on the couch so she was facing him with her feet resting in his lap. "And what about you?" He asked as his eyes cast down at her feet, her perfectly painted toenails looking delicate and sensual.

Gabriella blinked. "What about me?"

He tilted his head, his eyes meeting hers again. "Why do you keep going on dates with guys who bore you to death?"

Gabriella huffed, sinking deeper into the couch. "Because I'm an optimist, Troy."

Troy smirked. "You're a lot of things. Not sure 'optimist' makes the list."

Gabriella grinned, nudging his knee with her foot. "Alright, fine. Maybe I'm just stubborn."

Troy chuckled. "That checks out."

A comfortable silence settled between them. The television a low murmur of sound for them to hear although he was sure neither was paying attention.

Gabriella took another sip of wine, eyes flicking toward him like she was debating something.

Then, too casually, she asked, "So. If I wasn't so stubborn, and I just gave up on dating entirely…would you be concerned about my life choices?"

Troy's fingers tightened around his glass. Because what the hell was he supposed to say to that?

The tug of her dress caught his attention and he shifted his gaze. His eyes zeroed in on her fingers as she toyed with the fabric. The action pulling the fabric up and exposing more of her legs.

She was playing with fire. She knew exactly what she was doing.

And Troy? Troy was going to combust.

He exhaled slowly, voice even and careful. "I think you're perfectly capable of making your own choices."

Gabriella hummed, eyes dangerously amused. "Good answer, Professor."

Troy shook his head, finishing the last of his wine. "You should really stop calling me Professor like that."

Gabriella smirked. "But isn't that what they call you?" She crossed her legs and the movement caught his eyes. "Professor Bolton."

He gulped. Actually gulped at the way she said his name. Raspy and low. He felt his palm itch with the urge to touch her. To grab her and hoist her into his lap. For the first time in his life the fantasy of the naughty student took shape in his mind. With Gabriella in the starring role. He could imagine her perfectly in one of those little skirts. Her legs wrapped around his waist. And - Jesus. He was a fucking pervert.

He stood up. "More wine?" he asked in an effort to put some distance between them.

"Only had half a bottle. Unless you prefer Whiskey." Gabriella sighed dramatically, stretching her arms over her head, and Troy immediately looked away, because if the fabric of her dress inched any higher he was going to lose it. He needed to get his shit together.

"Maybe we should just turn in then." He said picking up her wine glass and taking both glasses to the kitchen sink. "It's been a long day. Should probably take advantage of Hannah being out. Maybe clean her room."

He needed to get out of here. Because he was going to break.

He knew it. He felt it, simmering under his skin, pulling tight every time Gabriella looked at him like she knew exactly what she was doing.

For weeks, they had been dancing around it.

The late-night conversations. The lingering glances. The way she pushed, just enough to see if he'd push back.

Troy had been holding on by a thread.

Then she was right there, in her red dress standing beside him. Cocking her hip against the counter as she watched him.

"That's one way to take advantage of the night." She said in a low voice.

He murmured in agreement as his eyes traveled down the front of her dress and admired the way the top of her breasts were highlighted. It was almost like a silent offer. The way that dress clung to her curves.

"That dress really is… just. Wow."

"Well, I'm happy at least someone's enjoying it." She smirked. "Gotta admit, your reaction was better than my dates."

"Your date was dumbass."

She laughed, the sound of it breathy and low. She leaned in a little closer to him.

And pretty soon if he didn't make a move he would be the dumbass. The dumbass on the other side of her front door with a raging hard on and nothing but cold shower in his future.

Then he did what he should have done weeks ago.

Close the space between them. And then, slowly, deliberately, giving her every chance to stop him, he reached up, fingers curling under her jaw, tilting her face toward his.

Gabriella inhaled sharply, lips parting.

"Troy," she whispered.

Troy swallowed.

Then, voice low, raw, wrecked, he said, "Tell me to stop and I will."

Gabriella's breath hitched.

Her hands gripped the front of his shirt. And for one, impossibly long second, she didn't move. Didn't pull away. Didn't say a word.

Then, in the quietest, most devastating voice he'd ever heard, she whispered: "I don't want you to."

And that was it. That was all it took.

Troy's lips crashed against hers, and nothing had ever felt more inevitable.

She met him halfway, fingers twisting into his shirt as he pulled her flush against him, desperate and wanting. Finally giving into his needs and taking what he wanted.

Finally.

Gabriella

It felt like a dam breaking somewhere in the middle of the forest. They were alone in the quiet of her apartment and she could hear the unsettling way the structure was shifting. She could see it, in his eyes, in his stance, the way he tried to get away.

But she was tired of holding back all that damn water that was pushing against that wall. She was tired of feeling a little crazy when it came to this man. So at the first sight of a leak she decided to just wiggle a few more stones until… "Tell me to stop and I will."

Fat chance of that. She didn't want him to stop. She was certain if he left his apartment tonight without making a move she just might burn up in flames.

Now she could feel it-the way Troy broke against her. The way he kissed her like he had been holding back for so long it physically hurt.

His hands were firm, desperate, everywhere. One slid into her hair, the other splayed low on her back, pulling her flush against him like he needed her closer, like he was afraid she might disappear.

She was a goner.

Because Troy kissed like he meant it. Like this wasn't a mistake. Like he was finally, finally letting himself have her.

She moaned into his mouth, gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Then he cursed, backing her up until her bottom hit the kitchen counter, his body crowding into hers.

Jesus.

She'd thought about this-of course, she had. She'd imagined what it would be like if Troy ever gave in. But this? She was delighted and surprised by his take charge approach. Because he wasn't careful. And Troy always seemed careful.

Troy was always so composed, always so measured, but right now he was kissing her like he was coming apart at the seams.

Like he had spent every single second of the last few weeks thinking about this, too.

She gasped when he tilted her head back, lips trailing down her jaw, her throat, teeth scraping against her pulse.

Fuck.

Gabriella's fingers slid into his hair, pulling, tugging, desperate.

"Troy."

He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, pressing against her harder. The bulge of his erection pressing into her lower abdomen with a promise.

Gabriella felt lightheaded. Dizzy. Absolutely wrecked.

Then he froze.

Pulled back just an inch, breathing hard.

Gabriella blinked, trying to chase his lips, but his hands tightened on her waist, holding her still.

She frowned, chest rising and falling unevenly.

"Troy?"

His eyes were dark, wild, completely unreadable.

Then voice hoarse, he whispered "I don't know how to do this."

Gabriella's stomach plummeted. Because suddenly, this wasn't just about a kiss.

This was bigger. This was about everything.

Troy wasn't just saying, I don't know how to do this. He was saying, I don't know how to want you without ruining everything.

And for the first time since she met him since this whole, stupid, slow-burn mess started-Gabriella felt her own heart clench.

"Hannah really likes you." He mumbled. "You're someone she feels safe with and I don't want to be selfish and mess that up for her. Not because I can't keep it in my pants."

Gabriella's shoulders slumped. Her fingers softened in his hair, sliding down to his jaw. And in the quietest voice possible, she asked, "Do you want to stop?"

Troy's breath shuddered.

His hands flexed on her hips. His forehead dropped against hers, like he was trying to ground himself.

After a painfully long pause he whispered, "No."

Gabriella inhaled.

Troy swallowed.

And then slower this time, more careful, like he was memorizing the shape of her mouth he kissed her again.

This kiss was different. Slow and sweet, his tongue slipping past her parted lips and leisurely taking his time to taste her. It was the kind of kiss two people had when they were trying to be well behaved in public.

Then he pulled away.

"But I really should."

"You don't have to." Gabriella said, quietly. "We could just take advantage of the night. Let ourselves indulge in whatever this is and then just go back to normal in the morning. Hannah would never know."

His lower half shifted against her. His erection pressing against her. Her insides heated at the thought of him. Of connecting with him in a way that was primal. In that way only men and women could connect on a deeper level.

She pushed him slightly and he gave way. So she pushed him again. Gently, back until he was against the kitchen island. "Think about it, you could fulfill some of those naughty professor fantasies." She teased.

"That's not fair," he countered with a swallow.

"I'll tell you what's not fair," she replied softly. "The idea of you leaving this apartment without letting me taste you."

His eyes fluttered shut and he reached behind him to grip the edge of the island countertop. "Fuck."

She inhaled. "Language, Professor."

She lowered her hand down his body, her fingers sprayed out and determined. She inhaled sharply as she slid her palm over his erection. Cupping him with a smile as he visibly slumped just a fraction. Like, just the feel of her hand there was a relief.

His eyes opened, wild and dark again with desire. "A taste?" He asked quietly.

"I've been a bad girl," she teased, giving him a light stroke. "I'm in need of a little extra credit."

His jaw clenched. Then he exhaled slowly. "Show me how much you deserve a good grade."

Her core clenched and she bit down on her bottom lip. A delighted moan escaped her throat as she reached for the zipper of his pants. He didn't move as he watched her and she smirked as she pulled down the waistband of his boxer briefs, freeing his cock.

She was going to enjoy this fantasy.

She lowered herself so she was face to face with it. The damn thing looked like it was straining to reach for her, thick veins bulging with need. She shifted onto her knees, bent to angle herself beneath him so he had a good view of just how much she was going to enjoy this.

When she looked up at him, he was hungry. His eyes were watching her intensely. He might have even stopped breathing.

Then she licked him firmly from base to tip.

His entire body trembled.

"You tryin' to kill me, woman?"

"Trying to make you feel good." She sucked the head into her mouth and circled her tongue around the tip. "Have I ever told you I graduated at the top of my class," she said, wrapping her hand around his base. "I was always the teacher's pet."

She swirled her tongue around the tip.

He hissed. "Death by exploding dick. I guess there are worse ways to go." He could barely get the words out as she eagerly took him into her mouth again. Down to the back of her throat.

He groaned this time and she felt that groan right between her legs. So much so that she used her free hand to hitched up her skirt, her hand sinking between her legs.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Touch yourself."

She continued to lick and suck, her right hand slipping under the waistband of her panties and stroking her already wet clit. She moaned when she felt his fingers slip into her hair. The way he firmly secured his grip at the base of her hair. Gently tugging and guiding her on his dick.

"Your mouth feels so fucking good." He murmured. His hips thrusting slightly. "You're gonna make me explode."

She sucked harder pushing back against his hold to hear the audible pop of his dick leave her mouth. "If I suck you dry, do I get the extra credit?"

"Jesus." Troy reached for the base of his dick. His brow quirked in a silent question. With anyone else she would have rolled her eyes and played along, maybe even took charge and switched positions.

But it was different with Troy. This felt different, even under the guise of the fantasy he was still very careful. Letting her lead the play and not pushing beyond what she was already offering. Which made her a lot bolder than she might have been.

"Do it," she smiled wickedly. "Fuck my mouth Professor Bolton."

On a groan he pushes his dick into her mouth slowly. Filling her mouth with the velvety texture of his cock. The taste of his skin, salty and warm.

"That's a good girl," his praise urged her on. Giving her the confidence to take him deeper. Needing to please him. Wanting to be his undoing. "Gabriella." His voice was harsh, grumbled as she took him into her mouth.

"Shit. I'm going to-"

And then he was spilling into her mouth. The pulse under his cock pumping with each surge of his orgasm. His body tensed up as he leaned back against the island of the kitchen. His grip in her hair tightened for a fraction as he held her in place.

"Fuuuckkk." he moaned, releasing her hair and pulling back from her mouth.

She was inhaled sharply, panting from the exertion and loving the rush of energy that filled her. So much pride at the fact that she'd made him lose control like that. That he could lose control like that. So needy and greedy. For her. For what she could make him feel.

"You're so pent up, Professor." She couldn't help it, she was really into this. "Maybe we should go over my paper. I could read it to you while sitting in your lap?"

"You are in for such a fucking pounding, Gabriella, I swear to God," he said hoarsely. "I hope you enjoyed being on your knees, baby, because you're going to spend the rest of the night on your back."

Thank fucking God.

Somewhere around midnight…

Gabriella: BITCH. YOU. WILL. NOT. BELIEVE. WHAT. JUST. HAPPENED.

Taylor: Oh my god. Tell me RIGHT NOW.

Gabriella: I just slept with Troy.

Taylor: SHUT THE HELL UP. YOU'RE LYING.

Gabriella: I AM VERY MUCH NOT LYING.

Taylor: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. WAS IT GOOD?

Gabriella: TAY. GOOD IS NOT THE WORD. I THINK I SAW GOD. MULTIPLE TIMES.

Taylor: АААААН I KNEW IT! I KNEW THAT MAN HAD BIG D* ENERGY!

Gabriella: Energy confirmed.

Troy

Troy woke up warm. Which, at first, didn't make sense. His bed was never this warm. And his bed didn't smell like vanilla and something vaguely citrusy.

And his bed sure as hell didn't have Gabriella Montez curled up against him, her bare leg draped over his, her breath slow and even against his chest.

Troy's brain short-circuited.

Because—oh.

Oh.

Memories from last night came back in pieces. The kiss. The fantasy. Her lips around his cock. The way she didn't hesitate when he pulled her up to her feet and dragged her into her bedroom like a man possessed.

And he had been. He was a man possessed with the need to make her his. Because the way he peeled that dress off her body and took his time kissing and nipping at every inch of exposed skin was delicious. He could still hear it, her moans and whimpers. Her dirty mouth telling him exactly how to lick her pussy.

The woman was as much of a hurricane sexually as she was in every other aspect of her life. She knocked him off balance, she pushed against him and did so without any semblance of modesty or restraint.

The way she had looked at him, all soft and wanting and completely unguarded while she rode his dick. Her soft ludicrous tits swayed as she grinded against him. Murmuring wicked things. Dirty things, things that had made him come so hard he almost saw black spots in his vision.

And now? Now she was here, tangled up in the sheets, wrapped around him like she belonged there.

And Troy? Troy was fucking doomed.

Because this wasn't just sex. He'd known it before it even happened. And now, lying here with her in the morning light, feeling her fingers twitch against his stomach like she was just starting to wake up.

Troy knew.

He was never coming back from this.

Gabriella sighed softly, shifting against him, her nose brushing against his collarbone.

Troy's body betrayed him instantly.

His breath hitched, muscles tensing, because Jesus Christ.

He should move.

He should get up before she woke up and made some carefree joke that would absolutely wreck him. But he didn't.

Because somewhere deep down, he wanted this moment to last just a little bit longer.

Then, slowly, lazily, Gabriella stirred.

Troy felt the exact second she registered where she was.

She didn't startle. Didn't tense. She just made a small, pleased sound, tightening her hold on him. And Troy had to close his eyes.

Because if she kept doing that, he was going to lose every ounce of self-control he had left.

"Morning, Professor," she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

Troy exhaled sharply, opening his eyes. "Morning."

Gabriella smiled against his skin, stretching her arms over her head before flopping back down beside him, looking way too pleased with herself.

Troy tilted his head, watching her carefully. "You're taking this well."

Gabriella smirked, eyes still closed. "Did you think I was gonna panic?"

Troy hesitated. Because, honestly?

Yeah.

He had fully expected her to wake up, make a joke about "accidental neighbor hookups" and then casually walk it off like it was just another Friday night.

Because that's what Gabriella did. She didn't get attached. She didn't make things complicated. And yet, here she was.

Still in bed. Still tangled up with him. Still smiling like last night hadn't just changed everything.

Troy swallowed.

Then, softer now, more carefully, he said, "What now?"

Gabriella cracked one eye open, grinning. "Is that your way of asking if this was a mistake?"

Troy's jaw tensed. No. Not even a little.

Gabriella studied him for a second, like she was trying to decide something.

Then, quietly, she said, "I don't regret it."

Troy exhaled. Because fuck. That was what he needed to hear. His hand slid up, fingers brushing her bare shoulder. "Me neither."

Gabriella smiled.

And that?

That was how he ended up kissing her again. Why his hands traveled down under the covers shifting her so she was now on top of him. Naked. Grinding against him like the vixen she was, her curls haphazardly falling around her shoulders. Wild from a night of his hands buried deep into her roots. She was wild and passionate. So unabashedly turned on in the moment.

"Tell me you don't have to be anywhere." She whispered, placing kisses on his collarbone.

He glanced at the clock, it was only six in morning on a Saturday. "Not for another three hours."

"Good, maybe you can do that thing again with your fingers." She whispered with a smile.

"You liked that?" He grinned. Remembering how she'd arched off the bed when he dipped his index finger deep into her wet pussy and crooked it so he was able to find her g-spot.

"You know I liked it." She bit her lip as she moved to get up. The sheets falling down and pulling around her waist as she rocked against his erection. "Or maybe," she pauses leaning over towards her nightstand for another condom. He watched as she opened it and then rolled it down over his already rock hard shaft.

She lifts up slightly. Her hand leading him to her entrance and rubbing his tip against her center before lowering herself down on his cock.

"Maybe I'll just use your dick to get me off instead." She says with a sigh as she rocks against him slowly. Her hips shifted as she grinded against him.

Reaching up he took hold of her raise to slow her down or risk coming too soon. He groaned, biting his lip as he admired her, just like this. Playful and wicked, sweet and innocent yet so fucking naughty at the same time.

She slides up and down his length again and he lets out a low breath as he loses himself in that feeling, in her. "You feel so fucking good."

"I have a fantasy," she says quietly. Her breathing comes out a little husky as she rocks her hips.

"What's that?" He asks, letting his hands slide along her hips. Enjoying the way she feels under his touch. He would give her anything she wanted. He would play out any fantasy if it meant he got to be right here with her.

"You're going to take me out for celebratory we-just-had-sex pancakes."

He laughs, once again taken by surprise with her playful nature. "I can do that."

She came down on him slowly, taking him down to the base. Grinding against him fully and letting out a small whimper.

"I love it when you do that," He says on a goan as his hands rise up to her breast cupping them in his hands and enjoying the sight of his hand on her intimately. She's rocking back and forth a little faster, her breathing coming out in little sighs.

She moans in delight as she arches back, her hands holding onto his thighs while she rides him.

"Fuck." She moans. "You feel so good."

"Your so fucking tight around my cock." He murmurs, watching her body move. Mesmerized by the way she chases her climax.

How on earth was he ever going to be able to function around her now that he knew she looked like this on top of him. How was he going to be able to stop his mind from wandering right back to this moment.

When she began to shake he began moving his own hips, keeping the rhythm she had set, not wanting to lose the momentum between them. He was thrusting into her now as he held her hips steady. Each push inside her earned a little moan as she indicated she was close.

And then she exploded on top of him like fireworks. Her hands reaching up into her hair as she let out a moan of pleasure. Her eyes sparkling with lust right before they shut and that satisfied smile pulled at her lips.

He felt his own orgasm cresting, His hand gripping her hips hard as he thrusted into her with one last push. His spine tingled, his toes curled and balls pulled tight as he came.

His breathing was still harsh as he tried to take in air. Feeling her body fall onto his. Her bare breast against his chest as she sighed with contentment.

He wrapped his arms around her pressing a small kiss to the top of her head as they both laid there for a moment.

"So, about those pancakes?" She said shifting a little so she could meet his eyes.

"That's a great idea." He signs with a small nod. As soon as he could center himself again, he was all for it.

Nothing was ever going to be the same between them.

Gabriella

It had been twenty-three days since the night she and Troy finally, finally, caved.

Not that she was counting.

And in that time, everything had changed.

Well, maybe not everything.

Hannah was still none the wiser, happily dragging her dad across the hall for dinner or sneaking Oreos from Gabriella's kitchen.

When they saw each other in the hallway, they made small talk while juggling groceries or mail. Keeping up appearances of business as usual for Hannah.

They still had random dinners together, sometimes at her place, sometimes at his, and they usually sat down to watch whatever movie Hannah had picked out. Most of the time it was something related to The Little Mermaid.

On one occasion Gabriella got her to watch Aladdin, one of her favorites. It hadn't been as impactful for Hannah as it had been for Gabriella but, Gabriella didn't blame her. Heck, now as an adult, that scene where Aladdin was thrown in jail and shackled to the wall did things for her.

And then there were the things that were different. The stolen moments after bedtime when they couldn't keep their hands off each other. When the kisses were rushed and left her feeling giddy.

Then there were the evenings she spent in his bed basking in the way he worshiped her body. The night they showered together and he had to hold his hand over her mouth while she came because she's been so ramped up from sexting all day.

Even Troy was a little different. Not in a huge way. Not in a way anyone else would notice. But she noticed.

She noticed the way he looked at her now, open, unguarded, like he was finally allowing himself to want her.

She noticed the way he touched her, too small, fleeting brushes of fingers when he passed her something at dinner, the warm weight of his palm on her back when they stood too close in the kitchen.

She noticed the way he seemed…happier. More relaxed. Like the weight he had been carrying for so long had finally lifted, just a little.

And Gabriella?

She should have been terrified. Because she had no idea what this was.

There had been no discussion, no labels. Just an unspoken agreement to keep things as they were, whatever that meant.

And so far?

It was working.

Which was why, when her mother called that Sunday afternoon, she should have ignored it.

But, like an absolute fool, she answered. And, as expected, she immediately regretted it.

"Mija, are you pregnant?"

Gabriella choked on her iced coffee. "Excuse me?"

"You haven't been answering my calls. You only ignore me when you're hiding something. It's either pregnancy or you've joined a cult."

Gabriella pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mom, I've just been busy."

Her mother huffed. "Too busy to call your own mother? Too busy to tell me what's been keeping you so distracted? Well, what is it? What's keeping you so busy? Are you working overtime? Do you need money? That job isn't going to keep you warm at night you know. You're wasting away your best years with no husband, no children, no plan?"

Gabriella sighed, already regretting her life choices. "Here we go."

"No, en serio, Gabriella, I don't understand. You're beautiful, you have a good job, you have a nice apartment—

"Wow, so much praise. Should I write this down?"

"Don't be sarcastic. I am worried about you."

Gabriella slumped onto her couch. "Mom, I'm fine."

"Fine? Fine? Gabriella, do you know how many women your age are already married with children? Your cousin Emily just had her second baby."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "You've mentioned. About a thousand times."

"And what about you, mija? When is it going to be your turn? Do you even go on dates anymore?"

Gabriella stiffened. Because fuck. She hadn't even thought about dating someone else.

Not since him.

Not since that night.

And for a brief, fleeting second, she thought about telling her mother.

About Troy. About the late nights and stolen moments and the way he made her feel so damn seen.

But something stopped her.

Because what would she even say? That she was seeing her neighbor, but not officially?

That they were somewhere between friends and lovers, but neither of them had dared to define it?

That she was falling for him, hard and fast and probably recklessly, and had no idea where it was going?

Instead, she said, "Mom. I'm fine. I don't need a husband to be happy."

"That's what women say right before they hit forty and adopt a cat."

Gabriella groaned. "Jesus, Mom."

"I am just saying! You should be putting yourself out there. In fact-"

Gabriella immediately went on high alert. "Mom."

"I was talking to my friend Rosa from church…"

"No."

"and her son just moved back to town."

"Absolutely not."

"Gabriella, he's very handsome!"

"Mom, please."

"And he has a stable job!"

Gabriella sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know who else has a stable job? Me. I don't need a man to provide for me."

Her mother clicked her tongue. "Mija, I just want you to be happy."

Gabriella softened.

Because, despite all the nagging, all the meddling, all the unnecessary pressure, she knew her mother meant well.

She just didn't understand.

Didn't understand that Gabriella already had someone. Someone who made her laugh. Someone who made her feel wanted, even when she wasn't trying.

Someone who looked at her like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.

Even if he wouldn't say it out loud.

Gabriella exhaled, shaking her head. "Mom, I promise you, if I meet someone worth introducing you to, you'll be the first to know."

Her mother sighed dramatically. "Fine. But don't wait too long. Your golden years are slipping away."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Love you too, Mom."

She hung up before the conversation could get worse.

And then, just as she tossed her phone onto the couch. There was a knock at the door.

Tonight they had plans. A Hannah free night plan that didn't include any Disney movies or stuffed rabbits. Not that she minded having Hannah around; she was quite the conversationalist these days. And she really did enjoy watching Troy and Hannah together.

He was so sweet and gentle with Hannah. he really was a great dad. He also had the patience of a saint. The way he hung on her every word. Always answered her questions with the most honest and sincere intentions.

How he took the time to explain things to her even if he was in the middle of something. He always gave Hannah his unconditional love and support.

It honestly made him even more attractive.

He smiled at her as he held up a bag of takeout, looking too good in a plain t-shirt, too relaxed, too much like someone who was making it really fucking hard to pretend this wasn't a thing.

Gabriella crossed her arms, smirking. "Your timing is perfect. Did you sense I was being harassed about my life choices?"

Troy lifted an eyebrow. "Taylor?"

"My mother."

Troy winced. "That explains the murder in your eyes."

Gabriella huffed, stepping aside. "Come in before I decide to commit arson."

Troy smirked, walking in without hesitation.

And as she watched him move around her apartment like he belonged there, like this was just normal now.

She was in trouble.

Because somewhere along the way, Troy Bolton had become her person.

And sooner or later, she was going to have to figure out what the hell that meant.

Gabriella shut the door behind him, watching as he unpacked the takeout bags, rolling his shoulders like he was working out some kind of tension. He pulled out plates and utensils.

"Long day, Professor?" she teased, leaning against the counter.

Troy sighed, running a hand down his face. "You have no idea."

Gabriella smirked. "What happened? Did your students finally revolt? Did you lose another battle against modern slang?"

Troy shot her a look. "No." He let out a sigh. "My mother happened."

Gabriella blinked. His mother. That was a first. "Wait…Your mother too?"

Troy huffed, grabbing glasses from her cabinet like he lived here. Like this wasn't completely insane.

"When I dropped Hannah off this afternoon, she asked if I'd given up on finding someone and if she needed to start vetting women for me."

Gabriella barked out a laugh. "Jesus, our mothers should form a support group."

Troy smirked, opening one of the containers. "They'd be unstoppable."

Gabriella shook her head, moving to grab napkins. "So what did you say? That you're too busy grading existential crisis essays to date?"

Troy exhaled, leaning against the counter. "I told her I wasn't looking for anything serious right now."

Gabriella froze. For just a split second. Because that felt a little too close to home.

She kept her voice light. "And she accepted that answer with grace and understanding?"

Troy snorted. "Of course not. She launched into a fifteen-minute monologue about how I need 'companionship' and how I should let her set me up with her friend's daughter."

Gabriella grabbed the wine from her fridge and filled the two glasses, before tilting her head. "And you said?"

Troy hesitated. Then, carefully, in that Troy way, he said, "I told her I already had someone."

Gabriella's stomach flipped. She covered it quickly, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? Who's the lucky girl?"

Troy sighed, his eyes narrowing in her direction. "Gabriella."

She smirked. "What? I'm just asking. Sounds serious, Professor."

Troy exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. "That's what we need to talk about, isn't it?"

Gabriella blinked. So this wasn't just a meal. It was a trap. She set her bottle down nearby. "You wanna define this?"

Troy's jaw tensed. Like he wasn't sure if this was a good idea or the worst decision of his life.

Gabriella watched him for a second.

Then, because she was feeling a little reckless, she said, "If you want to get technical, I think we qualify as an affair."

Troy choked on air.

"What?"

Gabriella shrugged. "Hannah doesn't know. Your mother doesn't know. My mother doesn't know. Taylor knows, but I think she'll take it to the grave."

Troy shook his head. "My mother knows. And we are not an affair."

Gabriella grinned. "We could be if we really committed to the bit. You could start sneaking out of my apartment at two in the morning in a hoodie. I could leave lipstick on your collar. We could make this very dramatic."

Troy huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jesus Christ."

Gabriella laughed, hopping up onto the counter, swinging her legs slightly. "Okay, fine. No affair. What are we, then?"

Troy looked at her. And for once, he didn't look away. He looked right at her, like he was waiting for her to give him the answer.

She swallowed. Because this was the part that scared her. She could joke. She could deflect. She could keep things light and easy because that was how she survived.

But Troy didn't let her do that. He made her look at things. Made her feel things.

And that? That was fucking terrifying.

She exhaled slowly. "Troy."

He tilted his head. "Yeah?"

She swallowed. "Are you sleeping with anyone else?"

Troy's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "I mean, if you are, fine. But if we're gonna have this conversation, let's be honest about it."

Troy's jaw ticked. "No. I'm not."

Gabriella nodded. "Me neither."

Troy exhaled, arms still crossed. "Okay."

Gabriella licked her lips, tilting her head. "Okay?"

Troy's gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second before snapping back up.

"Okay," he said again, voice lower now.

Gabriella narrowed her eyes. "Troy, are we in a relationship?"

Troy hesitated.

Then, quietly, like he was stepping into something dangerous, he said, "I think we're something."

Gabriella's stomach flipped. That was not the casual, carefree answer she had been expecting. That was real. And suddenly, she didn't know what to do with it.

So she did what she always did.

She deflected.

She smirked. "Is that your professor way of saying 'yes'?"

Troy sighed, shaking his head. "Gabriella,"

She hopped off the counter, stealing a bite of his takeout before grinning. "Fine. We're something."

Troy exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Jesus."

Gabriella grinned. "Good talk, Professor."

Troy looked at her for a long second. Then, voice softer now, he said, "Yeah. Good talk."

Needing to lighten the mood she pulled at his pants bringing him towards her. "You know what else would be good right about now?" She murmured.

"You don't want to eat first?" He said with a frown.

"I'd rather work up the appetite, wouldn't you?" She teased lifting her shirt up and over her head. Exposing her chest in a light pink lace bra.

"That's not fair."

"Maybe I should be spanked then?"

He groaned. "Gabriella."

"Come on, spank me." She teased. "I can call you daddy this time."

He arched his brow for a moment as he considered it. Then he physically shook his head, "I rather you didn't."

"Okay," she pulled at the hem of his shirt and her lips formed a pout. "Tell me what you want."

He laughed, his demeanor slowly shifting back to that playful relaxed state.

"How about you just be the naughty neighbor tonight?" He murmured moving forward and forcing her to take a step back.

"How naughty?" She grinned, enjoying the way he had her trapped. Troy lifted a hand, placing it on the cabinet just to her left, his frame leaning in close. She pressed back against the solid wood of her pantry door, her heart pounding as the space between them disappeared.

"Enough for me to turn that pretty little ass of yours pink." He murmured quietly.

"I love it when you curse," she says, pulling at his shirt. "It's fucking adorable."

"I bet you do," he whispers just before he covers her mouth with his own.

Troy

Troy had never been great with words. Which was ironic, given his entire career.

But when it came to this, Gabriella, them, whatever the hell they were doing, words felt impossibly difficult.

Because how do you ask for more when you're not even sure what more looks like?

How do you tell the woman you're sleeping with, the woman you think about all the damn time, that you want to stop feeling like an inconvenient secret?

That you don't just want late nights and stolen moments and some vague, undefined "something."

That you want everything? He didn't know how to say any of that. So instead, he did what he always did.

He let it simmer.

Let it build up in the quiet spaces between them, in the way he lingered at her door, in the way his fingers brushed her back when they walked too close, in the way he kissed her like he wasn't sure when he'd get the chance again.

And maybe, just maybe, she felt it too.

Because lately, she was different.

Not dramatically, but he noticed.

He noticed the way she stared a little too long when she thought he wasn't looking. Noticed the way she fidgeted when he got too close, like she wasn't sure if she should pull him in or push him away.

Noticed the way she said "We're something" like she was testing the words out for the first time.

He wanted to tell her that "something" wasn't enough. That he wanted more. That he wanted her.

Not just in the quiet of her apartment when the world wasn't watching. Not just as a secret to keep. But as something real.

Something Permanent.

But he didn't. Because he was a goddamn coward. Because what if he said it and she didn't want the same thing? What if she laughed it off?

So instead, he stayed silent. And that silence was going to kill him.

Speaking of silence Troy's eyes wandered to the backseat where Hannah had been too quiet for the last five minutes, which was never a good sign.

They had already tackled stop one of their errands, grocery store, mostly snack-based purchases because Hannah had somehow convinced him that fruit snacks were a necessity.

Now they were in the parking lot of stop two, Target, because Troy was a single dad and therefore lived in a constant state of needing something from Target.

He pulled into a spot, shifted into park, and glanced in the rearview mirror. Hannah was kicking her feet, deep in thought. Her light brown eyes staring out the window and some of her brown curls slipping from her ponytail band.

Troy exhaled. "Alright, kiddo. What's on your mind?"

Hannah blinked, almost startled by his voice. For a moment he thought she was going to brush him off. Then she tilted her head, in the seriousness only a six year old could muster. "Daddy, are we all best friends?"

Troy frowned. "…Who is 'we'?"

Hannah sighed like he was incredibly slow. "You, me, and Miss Montez."

Troy's stomach did something weird. He had expected a lot of things. He had not expected that.

Troy rubbed his jaw. "Uh. I guess you could say that."

Hannah narrowed her eyes. "You guess?"

Troy sighed, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "Well, what do you think makes someone a best friend?"

Hannah thought very hard about this. Then, after a few seconds, she lifted a hand and started ticking off fingers.

"One. You hang out a lot. Two. You tell each other stuff. Three. You have fun together. And four. You like each other."

Troy huffed out a laugh. "That's a solid list."

Hannah nodded proudly. "And you and Miss Montez do all those things."

Troy's grip tightened on the wheel again. Because, technically, yes. They did. He and Gabriella did hang out a lot. He did tell her things, things he didn't tell most people. He did have fun with her, more fun than he'd had in years.

And as for number four?

Yeah, he liked her.

Troy cleared his throat. "I guess that means we're best friends, then."

Hannah beamed. "I knew it!"

Troy smiled, relieved that it seemed to satisfy her. Then, too casually, Hannah asked, "So when are we all moving in together?"

Troy choked.

Hannah, completely unfazed, swung her legs. "I think it would be fun. That way, I could have my own room at Miss Montez's house, and she wouldn't have to come over all the time because she'd already be there."

Troy ran a hand down his face. "Hannah."

Hannah blinked. "Yeah?"

Troy exhaled very slowly. Because, Jesus Christ.

He had been mentally preparing for the moment Hannah started realizing Gabriella was more than just a neighbor. He had not been prepared for "when are we all moving in together."

Troy chose his words carefully. "Miss Montez and I are still figuring things out."

Hannah tilted her head. "Like what?"

Troy sighed. "Like how this works. Grown-up relationships are different from best friends."

Hannah frowned. "That seems silly."

Troy huffed out a laugh. "Yeah. It kinda is."

Hannah thought for a second. Then, after a long, thoughtful pause, she shrugged. "Okay."

Troy blinked. "Okay?"

Hannah nodded, unbothered. "Yeah. As long as you and Miss Montez don't break up, it's fine."

Troy's stomach did something stupid again. Because break up? That implied they were together. This was dangerous territory.

Troy cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice normal. "Why do you like her so much, huh?"

Hannah shrugged. "She's fun. She listens to me. And she never tells me my ideas are silly."

Troy's chest tightened. His idea of Gabriella matching up to what his daughter saw there too.

Troy exhaled, glancing back at her. "Alright, you little troublemaker. Ready to go inside?"

Hannah grinned. "Yep!"

Troy chuckled, shaking his head as he got out of the car. And as they walked into Target his daughter chatting away like she hadn't just turned his world upside down Troy realized something.

Hannah already saw Gabriella as part of their family. And now? Now, Troy had to figure out what the hell he was going to do about that.

Gabriella

Gabriella was not a kid person. She had never been a kid person.

She always thought she'd be the aunt who gave her nieces and nephews obnoxiously loud toys just to watch her siblings suffer. She was the woman who side-eyed children on planes because their parents always pretended they couldn't hear them screaming.

She was the babysitter who got paid ten bucks an hour as a teenager to watch a five-year-old demolish a Play-Doh set while she read a magazine. But somehow, against all odds, Hannah Bolton had adopted her.

She wasn't sure how it had happened. Maybe it was because Gabriella never treated her like a fragile little thing. Maybe it was because Gabriella let her eat Oreos and watch reality TV while calling the contestants dumb.

Maybe it was because Troy had zero game when it came to crafting stories, and Gabriella had once convinced her that if she ate too many vegetables, she would turn into a tree.

Troy had a lot to say after that one.

Whatever it was, it had resulted in Hannah sitting at her kitchen counter on a Wednesday evening, swinging her legs, talking Gabriella's ear off.

"And then Tiffany told Hailey that she was cheating because she didn't stay inside the lines, but Hailey said the whole point of art was freedom, and now they're not talking to each other."

Gabriella blinked. "That's…a lot for first grade."

Hannah sighed dramatically, stealing a carrot stick from Gabriella's plate. "Yeah. It's exhausting being this age."

Gabriella smirked. "I bet."

Hannah chewed thoughtfully, feet still kicking.

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, she said, " Do you like my dad?"

Gabriella's brain flatlined.

She didn't choke, didn't flinch, didn't panic, but she came dangerously close to dropping the knife she was using to slice cheese.

She blinked.

Hannah blinked right back. Too curious. Too observant.

Gabriella cleared her throat. "What do you mean?"

Hannah rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

Gabriella set the knife down. "Hannah, your dad and I are friends."

Hannah squinted at her. "Then why do you look at him like that?"

Gabriella stared at this little girl in all her pink glitter pants and captain America T-shirt glory. Because…excuse the fuck out of her.

Like what? She was six. What did she know about looks?

And how was she looking at Troy? Like he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen? Like she had spent weeks trying to figure out how to be normal about all this? Like she looked forward to weekends and evenings because she knew she was going to see them.

Them.

Troy and Hannah.

She exhaled slowly. "Hannah, how exactly do I look at your dad?"

Hannah shrugged. "Like how Hailey looks at Marcus."

Gabriella frowned. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Hannah gave her a look. "They're boyfriend and girlfriend."

Gabriella rubbed her temples. "You guys are six."

Hannah crossed her arms. "And?"

Yeah, cause in this scenario she was a dumb adult. Gabriella sighed. "Hannah, your dad and I are…figuring things out."

Hannah narrowed her eyes. "That sounds suspicious."

Gabriella narrowed hers right back. "You sound like a cop."

Hannah tilted her head, considering. "I do like solving mysteries."

Gabriella huffed out a laugh. "I can tell."

Hannah was quiet for a second. Then, voice softer now, smaller, she asked, "Are you gonna marry my dad?"

Gabriella almost fell out of her chair. Because, what the actual fuck? She had not prepared for this conversation.

She had mentally prepared for dating Troy to be a slow, cautious, delicate thing.

She had not prepared for his six-year-old to start wedding planning.

Gabriella swallowed, keeping her voice light. "That's a little above my pay grade, kiddo."

Hannah tilted her head. "But you like him, right?"

Gabriella hesitated.

Then, as carefully as she could manage it, she said, "Yeah, Hannah. I do."

Hannah beamed.

Gabriella had to remind herself to breathe.

Later that night, after Troy had picked Hannah up, after Gabriella had downed two glasses of wine and tried to process the absolute insanity of that conversation, her phone rang.

It was Lisa.

Gabriella sighed, answering. "What's up, babe?"

Lisa wasted zero time.

"You and Troy."

Gabriella closed her eyes. "Lisa."

"No. Don't Lisa me. You know I'm living life vicariously through you. What happened?"

Gabriella pinched the bridge of her nose. "I got integrated by a six year old. Did you know first graders are dating? Doesn't that seem soon? I feel like I should tell her the truth about dating? That It's a miserable experience she should avoid as long as possible."

Lisa scoffed. "She'll learn it on her own."

"Still." Gabriella shook her head. "She kind of knows about Troy and me. I thought we were being careful."

"Gabriella. Sweetheart. You and Troy have been orbiting each other like a goddamn romance novel for months. You're invested in this. Especially because he has a kid."

Gabriella groaned. "That child is going to get me killed."

Lisa laughed.

Gabriella sighed. "I told her we were figuring things out. It's not like I could tell her the truth, you don't really tell someone their father is great in bed."

Lisa hummed. "And how's that going?"

Gabriella exhaled. "Better than I expected. Really good. He's very attentive and he's surprisingly confident."

"Why is that surprising?" She could hear the smile in her voice.

"He's such a timid guy." Gabriella said softly. "I didn't think he'd ever make a move."

"Good," Lisa said, "It's about time you found someone who can treat you properly."

And for once, Gabriella agreed, because, yeah. It was nice. Having Troy and Hannah in her life felt good.

Troy

A day later, Troy found himself at Gabriella's door.

Hannah had fallen asleep earlier than expected, and instead of using the rare free time to catch up on work or crash on his couch, he took advantage of it. He crossed the hall and knocked.

Troy had never been the kind of guy to care about work functions. Faculty mixers, department dinners, networking events, they all blurred together. He showed up, made polite conversation, had a drink, and left as soon as it was socially acceptable.

But this time was different.

This time, he wanted a plus one.

And if there was ever a perfect opportunity to ask Gabriella out, really ask her out, this was it.

When she opened the door, she was in a loose spaghetti strap top and blue sweatpants, her hair damp from a shower. The scent of her shampoo, something sweet, coconut maybe, still lingered in the air between them.

"Hey there," she greeted, one brow lifting as her gaze flickered toward his open door across the hall. "Where's Hannah?"

"She fell asleep, and I had something to ask you," he said.

Gabriella leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing over her chest. "You know, they make these crazy little things called cellphones," she teased. "People use them all the time to communicate."

Troy felt heat creep up the back of his neck. Of course, she wouldn't make this easy.

"So," he said, shifting his weight slightly. "There's this work event on Friday. Nothing huge. Just a dinner for faculty and staff."

Gabriella cocked a hip against the door. "Yeah, I can hang out with Hannah."

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "That's not what I wanted to ask." He tucked his hands into his pockets, keeping them there before he started fidgeting.

Gabriella tilted her head. "No?"

"No," he said, swallowing once before continuing. "I wanted to know if you'd come with me. As my plus one."

For a brief second, her expression was unreadable. Then, her lips quirked. "Are you asking me on an actual date, Professor?"

Troy nodded, clearing his throat. "I am."

"Wow," she murmured, amusement flickering across her face. "The real deal. An actual date where we keep our clothes on and leave the confines of our apartments."

Troy rolled his eyes, but his stomach flipped anyway. "I'm offering you free food and an open bar."

Gabriella smirked, considering this. "Well, when you put it like that… sure. I'll be your plus one."

"Right," he nodded, stepping back. "Okay."

"Okay," she echoed, smiling.

Just as he turned, he felt a tug at his shirt, Gabriella's fingers curling into the fabric, pulling him back toward her.

"Not so fast," she murmured, voice quiet but teasing. "How long ago did she fall asleep?"

Troy smirked, hands slipping from his pockets, settling at her waist. "An hour ago."

Gabriella's smile turned slow, lazy. "Wanna hang out on your couch and make out like teenagers?" Her voice dipped, husky and playful. "I could be the babysitter, and you could be my boyfriend sneaking over to keep me company."

Troy huffed a quiet laugh, fingers pressing into her sides. "For the record, that wasn't my intention when I came over here."

Gabriella grinned. "I'm an opportunist, Troy."

And when she leaned into him, he didn't put up a fight. Instead he kissed her slowly, getting the full force of her soft curves against his own. And fuck she felt good there. It made him want to be her boyfriend for real. For this to mean something more than it did because the way he was starting to feel for her was beginning to feel a lot like love.

Gabriella

So this was a date with Troy.

Her nerves fluttered at the thought of it. Their actual first date. She chose a cute black cocktail dress. Simple and fitting for a work outing. She glanced in the mirror feeling ridiculous for being so nervous. She went out on dates all the time.

She had been on so many dates in the past year. Granted none of them were with someone she actually liked before. They had all been profiles on a dating app or random strangers met in the wild.

This was different.

This was Troy.

Troy wasn't a stranger, he knew her. And she knew him. She knew they had chemistry and passion. They couldn't keep their hands off each other at any opportunity they got. So why did tonight feel so monumental?

Because tonight they were going out in public. Tonight he was taking her out into the real world with real people. His coworkers. Those same people he told her stories about. People who knew him outside of the apartment building.

Grownups who would expect to talk about grown up things. Who wouldn't brag about his funny voices when he read their favorite bedtime stories, or make them sit through The Little Mermaid and hog the popcorn.

They wouldn't be eating on the couch in their pajamas, or laying in bed naked in the afterglow.

This was about to be real. And the idea that maybe this might be when the magic between them fizzled out scared her. Because what if out in the real world they didn't work. What if she wasn't smart enough? What if Troy was someone different when he was out in the real world? What if she was different? Or felt different.

Her phone chimed.

Troy: About to head over, are you ready?

Gabriella: You know we could still back out and order a pizza. Maybe watch The Little Mermaid two. I hear this time Ariel's a human.

Troy: Are you scared?

Damn it.

She chewed on her bottom lip. Why did he have to know her so well.

Gabriella; Just making sure you're still up to it. Wouldn't want you to feel obligated.

She sent the message. Then stared at the phone. For a bit.

There was a knock on the door and she let her shoulder slump. Because of course he'd just walk over.

When she opened the door he was there with a single white rose. Holding it out in front of him.

Her heart clenched.

"What's this?" She asked, reaching for the rose. "Trying to butter me up?"

"Just a token of appreciation for agreeing to go out with me tonight." He said with a small smile.

"You're adorable." She lifted the rose to her nose, taking the opportunity to enjoy the floral scent,

"You look beautiful."

"You look insanely hot." She smirked, raising a brow as she took him in, slacks, a crisp white button-down, and an open blazer. He was practically radiating professor vibes, and she was definitely enjoying the view.

"Ready?"

"Let me get my purse."

She wasn't sure what she expected. She'd never been to a faculty event before. Her work functions were always very corporate and classy. So the idea of spending an evening with a bunch of professors? She didn't know what to think.

Well, actually… she expected the event to be dull. But to her surprise, it was actually kind of nice.

The restaurant was beautiful, all warm lighting and sleek modern decor. The faculty and staff were friendly, welcoming, and, shockingly, very complimentary of Troy.

She wasn't sure why that surprised her.

She knew he was brilliant. She knew he was good at what he did. But hearing other people talk about him with genuine admiration? That was different.

She stood by his side, sipping her wine, listening as one of his colleagues, a woman from the history department, gushed about him.

"Troy is one of the best professors we have. His students adore him."

Another professor, a man who looked to be in his sixties, nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. And he's the best kind of academic. Sharp, insightful, and not an arrogant ass about it."

Gabriella smirked, glancing at Troy. "Oh, so you do have a fan club?"

Troy huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Don't encourage them."

The woman from history smiled at Gabriella. "And you? How long have you two been together?"

Troy stiffened.

Gabriella hesitated for half a second. Then, with a carefree smile, she said, "Long enough to know he's worth keeping around."

Troy's eyes snapped to her. And for the briefest moment, he looked…stunned. Like he hadn't expected that answer. Like it had hit him somewhere deep.

Gabriella ignored the warmth creeping up her neck and took another sip of wine.

What? It wasn't a lie.

They had been at the party for a couple of hours when Gabriella realized that… she was happy. Like, actually happy. Not just having a good time, but genuinely, deeply, heart-warmingly happy.

This felt different. Relaxed and comfortable. Tonight, she wasn't just a secret. She wasn't just a woman he kissed behind closed doors. Tonight, she was his date.

Like a real date. Not like a first date but like she was someone's girlfriend kind of date.

The way he had looked at her when they walked in together? Like he was proud to have her there. Like he wanted her there.

His hand on her lower back, the way he refreshed her drink, introduced her to his colleagues. It was nice.

She exhaled slowly, setting her wine down, and watching Troy from across the room. He was mid-conversation with another professor, his posture relaxed, his eyes bright.

And she felt her stomach flip.

This was real. This was something. And maybe, just maybe she was finally ready to admit that she wanted it.

Troy

Troy was buzzing. And not from the wine, not really. And it wasn't the compliments, though they had been nice to hear. No, what had him feeling lightheaded, warm, and slightly wrecked was her.

Gabriella.

Standing across the room, laughing at something one of his colleagues had said, looking so effortlessly beautiful that it physically hurt.

She had agreed to come tonight, and he had told himself it was just a work event.

But it wasn' when she looked at him like that. Not when she spoke about him like she was proud to be there with him.

Not when his coworkers immediately assumed they were a couple, and she didn't correct them.

Troy exhaled slowly, finishing off the last of his drink. Because this wasn't just a casual night out. This was a real date.

When they left the party around midnight, stepping out into the cool night air.

Gabriella sighed, stretching her arms over her head. "Alright, Professor. That was shockingly pleasant."

Troy smirked, hands in his pockets. "You sound surprised."

Gabriella grinned, bumping her shoulder against his. "I don't know, I was expecting at least some academic snobbery. But you're actually well-liked. Who knew?"

Troy huffed out a laugh. "I could have told you that."

Gabriella rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

When they reached his car, he didn't unlock her door right away. Instead, he turned to her, watching her carefully.

Gabriella tilted her head. "What is it?"

He shook his head at first, then he smiled. "I liked having you there."

Gabriella licked her lips, stepping a little closer. "Yeah?"

Troy nodded. "Yeah."

Gabriella's eyes searched his like she was trying to figure something out.

Then, voice softer now, she asked, "So, was this our first real date?"

Troy's stomach tightened. Because fuck. Yes, it was, and instead of panicking, instead of deflecting, Troy did the only thing that felt right.

He closed the space between them. Slid his hands to her waist. And, just as softly, he said, "Yeah, it was."

Gabriella's breath hitched.

And then because he was completely and utterly gone for her, Troy leaned down and kissed her. His insides warmed at her touch as she slid her hands up the plains of his chest. Her body melting into his with that little murmur of need rumbling from her throat.

God, yes.

He responded with equal abandon. Pulling her luscious body against his own and devouring her kiss. The sweep of her tongue along his own turned his cock to solid stone. His physical reaction to her is undeniable.

The second her body melted into his, he went feral with the need for her. To make her his. To possess her so thoroughly she forgot any other man had ever existed.

Holding out a hand against the passenger side door he braced for them as they fell against the car. Lost in each other and how good it felt to be connected. To be so wrapped up in this, that nothing else mattered.

This was a small glimpse into what it could be like to have her for himself, it was enough to tilt his world on its axis. The breathless moan that snuck past her lips. The tug of her fingers in his hair. The nip of her teeth on his bottom lip.

How could kissing anyone else ever compare to this?

It was impossible.

His lips were on her neck when she groaned, "You planning on becoming an exhibitionist tonight or are you gonna take me home first?"

His kiss turns into a smirk. "Why do I get the feeling you'd be into it If I dragged you into the backseat?"

Gabriella chuckled, "don't knock car sex."

Troy let out a groan, she was absolutely torturous. "If I didn't have the car seat in the back I would totally ask you to show me." He placed one last lingering kiss on her forehead. "But I think I'd much rather take you in my bed tonight."

"Yes please," she murmured, chewing on her bottom lip in a sultry expression. "Take me home professor."

He unlocked the car and opened her door. Waiting until she was inside and settled before going around to the drivers side.

The ride home was quiet, one hand on the wheel and on her knee. His thumb rubbing the skin there tenderly as they listened to music in comfortable silence.

Life was a little bit different after that night, he officially had a girlfriend. Everything was amazing. He hadn't been this happy since Hannah's mom. A soft pang in his chest as he thought back to their relationship.

Losing her had been hard, it had been paralyzing to think about feeling that way about anyone ever again. But now, with Gabriella. He felt so happy. So content.

Safe to say Troy was having a good day.

Which should have been his first clue that something was about to go horribly wrong.

Because that was the thing about his universe, it didn't let Troy Bolton have good days without consequences.

The day had started perfectly.

Hannah had a birthday party to attend at a kid-friendly science museum downtown.

Troy had agreed to carpool with another parent, one of Hannah's classmates' moms, a perfectly nice woman named Erica, who had assured him, "Don't worry! I'll keep an eye on them."

Troy had planned to drop her off, head home, grade some papers, and then pick her up at the end of the party.

That was the plan.

And then, forty-five minutes later, his phone rang.

"Hey, so, um, don't panic, but we can't find Hannah." Erica's voice came over the line.

Troy's heart stopped.

"What?"

He could hear kids in the distance on the other line. "I'm sure she's still in the museum! But, um… she wandered off, and we're looking, and—"

Troy didn't hear the rest.

Because he was already grabbing his keys, shoving on his shoes, and walking out the door.

His hands were shaking as he pulled out of his parking spot. His mind was racing with worst-case scenarios.

And before he could talk himself out of it, he called the only person he wanted to hear right now.

Gabriella answered on the second ring. "Hey, Professor, what's up?"

Troy exhaled sharply. "Hannah's missing."

Silence.

Then, sharper now, more alert, Gabriella said, "What do you mean, missing?"

Troy gripped the steering wheel. "She was at a birthday party. Another parent was supposed to be watching her. She wandered off, and now they can't find her."

Gabriella didn't hesitate.

"Where are you? I'm coming."

Troy swallowed, his chest too tight to argue. "The science museum downtown."

"I'll be there in ten."

She hung up.

By the time Troy stormed into the museum, Gabriella was already there. It had taken him ten painfully long minutes to inform the people blocking off the door that he was the father of the missing child.

He was three feet from the door when he heard Gabriella's voice. She was there in her pencil skirt and collared shirt with a black vest. Her unruly curls pinned back. Her voice was loud and authoritative as she spoke.

She was talking to a museum staff member, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "She was wearing teal and white gym shoes, they light up at the bottom. They have The Little Mermaid on them."

"Do you have any recent photos?"

"Yes," she was already holding out her phone. "This is from last night."

The second she saw him, she waved him over. The museum staff member looked up at him, a look of concern in his eyes. "You're her father."

"Yes."

"No one's left the building," Gabriella said. "They've locked all the exits just in case. She has to be inside."

Troy exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ."

Gabriella grabbed his wrist. Not hard. Not forceful. Just enough to steady him. "We'll find her, Troy."

He swallowed. And then, together, they started searching.

Troy checked everywhere. The exhibits. The restrooms. The gift shop.

Nothing.

Gabriella called out her name as they moved through the crowded atrium, scanning every kid in sight.

And then, one of the female staff members called out that they found her.

The relief almost brought him to his knees when he saw her sitting cross-legged on the floor in a quiet hallway, tucked between two massive dinosaur skeletons, completely unbothered. Surrounded by security and staff.

She had a book in her lap.

"Hi daddy!" She called out, "I got a new book, Dinos Love Doughnuts."

Like she hadn't just given Troy a near heart attack. Troy exhaled so hard he felt lightheaded.

"Hannah."

Gabriella let out a sharp, relieved laugh.

Troy, however, was still recovering from the internal damage. He sank down to his knees in front of her, gripping her shoulders.

"Hannah, what the hell?"

Hannah frowned. "Am I in trouble?"

Troy pinched the bridge of his nose. "You disappeared. Everyone was looking for you."

Hannah tilted her head. "I wasn't lost. I was right here."

Gabriella snorted. "Yeah, kid, that's not how this works."

Troy let out a slow breath, trying very hard to calm himself down.

"Hannah. You can't just walk off like that, okay? You scared everyone. You scared me."

Hannah's face fell. "I didn't mean to."

Troy softened.

Then, voice quieter now, he said, "I know. But you have to promise me, next time, you tell an adult where you're going. Okay?"

Hannah nodded solemnly. "Okay. I promise."

Troy exhaled.

Then, before he could stop himself, he pulled her into a tight hug. Hannah squeaked but hugged him back.

When Troy finally let go, Hannah looked up at Gabriella.

"Did you come just to find me?"

Gabriella smirked. "Obviously. I had to make sure you weren't kidnapped by evil museum scientists."

Hannah gasped. "That could happen?"

Troy sighed. "Gabriella."

Gabriella grinned. "It only happens to kids who wander off." She warned. And just like that, the tension between them eased.

They drove home in Troy's car, Gabriella riding shotgun while Hannah chattered away in the back seat, blissfully unaware that she had aged Troy ten years today.

Troy was grateful. Not just because Hannah was safe. Not just because Gabriella had dropped everything to help him. But because, for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like he was doing this alone.

And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what he needed.

Gabriella

Gabriella spent the entire drive home pretending today had been no big deal.

Like she hadn't immediately dropped everything the second she heard Hannah was in trouble. Like she hadn't grabbed her bag, shot out of her office without a second thought, and taken the first bus that would get her even remotely close to the museum. Like she hadn't stormed into that building with the laser focus of a momma bear on a mission, heart pounding, mind racing, already running through every worst-case scenario.

She had moved on instinct—tracking down the birthday group, questioning the staff, scanning every face she saw looking for those dark brown eyes and dark brown soft waves.

And now, after all that adrenaline, all that panic, she was supposed to just sit here like nothing had happened? Like she hadn't spent the past hour feeling like she was going to crawl out of her own skin?

Her nerves were fried, her body exhausted, but she couldn't break down. Not in front of them. She could hardly comprehend what Troy was going through. How he had stayed upright at all.

Jesus. Hannah wasn't even biologically hers and she couldn't turn off the near panic attack at the thought of what could have happened.

By the time they got to his apartment, things had settled a little. Troy was calm, as he spoiled Hannah with kisses and hugs. Gabriella was in the kitchen putting together a plate of snacks.

Once Hannah was happily distracted by her tablet, and some snacks she curled up on the couch in her pajamas.

Which left Troy and Gabriella standing in his kitchen, alone, finally out of excuses.

Troy leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You okay?"

Gabriella exhaled. "Yeah. Just…processing."

He nodded.

Then, with a shaky voice, she said, "You know, if you keep calling me every time you have a crisis, people are gonna start thinking I'm your emergency contact."

Troy huffed out a quiet laugh as he came towards her, an arm extended. And fear punched her in the chest, because she knew the moment she gave in. The moment she was wrapped up in his arms she was going to cry.

"Maybe you should be." He said softly not letting her escape back against the counter to avoid him. He pulled her to him and engulfed her in his arms.

And just as she suspected, she started to cry. Her body leaned into him for support as she began to sniffle a little.

Troy held onto her tightly, the feel of his lips against her hair as he rubbed her back with his open palm.

Once she was calm enough she spoke into his chest. "How do you do this?" She mumbled, her voice low and tight.

"Do what?" He asked softly.

"Be responsible for a little person."

Troy laughed.

"It's not funny," she said, shoving him gently. "That whole thing scared the shit of me."

Troy loosened his hold on her. "Scared the shit out of me too."

Gabriella shook her head. "I'm buying one of those air tag things and putting it in her shoe."

"You can do that?" Troy asked with a raised brow.

"We're going to do it." Gabriella said with a look.

Troy smiled softly at her, "Thank you." He said quietly, his hand coming up to tenderly stroke her face. "Thank you for being there today, for holding my hand. And being there for Hannah."

"There's no way I wasn't going to be." Gabriella said.

He smiled. "When Sarah died I felt a lot of things. Abandonment was a big one. We planned a whole life together as a team to take care of Hannah and in the blink of an eye it all changed."

Gabriella reached for a napkin as she wiped at her face.

"It's why I moved back here, to be close to my family. I have no idea what I'm doing half the time. And it's easy to feel like it's not enough. But when it comes to kids it's about teamwork, it's about the support system you set up and trying every day even when you feel like you're spiraling."

"And what do you do when you spiral?"

"Be grateful for the hand that grabs yours," he said, softly grabbing her wrist as she had grabbed his earlier. "Then you take a breath and do the next thing."

Gabriella smiled, her eyes looking down at their hands. A feeling of comfort there.

"I love you." He said softly.

Her eyes lifted to his. A feeling of a million butterflies taking flight. "I love you too."

Troy shifted towards her, "I want this to be real, Gabriella. I want you. Not just at night, not just when no one's looking. I want…all of it. You, me, Hannah. I want this to be something we don't have to dance around anymore."

She nodded, "I want that too."

"Then that's it," he mumbled a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You're officially my emergency contact."

She laughed at that. And then because she really was exhausted she collapsed into him again seeking comfort in his embrace.

At bedtime she didn't go home. She settled into bed with him, completely exhausted and happy to wiggle into the nook of his chest. Her body wrapping around him and falling into a deep much needed sleep.

Troy

Troy had been preparing himself all day for Hannah's reaction to this conversation.

He rehearsed a few speeches. Not one of them felt like he was ready.

He and Gabriella had talked, really talked. No more dancing around it. No more avoiding definitions. They were together.

And now?

Now they had to tell Hannah.

Troy wasn't sure why he was so nervous. Maybe because Hannah was the most important person in his life. Maybe because, for her, Gabriella wasn't just some woman her dad was dating.

Gabriella was already part of her life. Part of their routine. Part of their home. Troy didn't want to mess this up. Didn't want Hannah to feel confused, or upset, or uncertain about where Gabriella fit in.

So, once she had finished her dinner, he took a deep breath, glanced at Gabriella, who gave him a reassuring "we've got this" look, and said, "Hannah, can we talk to you for a second?"

Hannah, mid-Oreo, blinked. "Is this about the juice box I spilled yesterday? Because I cleaned it."

Troy sighed. "No."

Gabriella smirked. "Although, good to know."

Hannah swallowed her bite, sitting up straighter. "Then what?"

Troy hesitated.

Then, calmly, he said, "Well…you know how you asked me the other day if me and Miss Montez were best friends?"

Hannah nodded. "And you are."

Troy cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, we are. But…we're also more than that."

Hannah tilted her head.

Troy glanced at Gabriella, who, thank God, jumped in.

"Your dad and I like each other, kid." She smiled, reaching out to tweak Hannah's nose. "Like, really like each other."

Hannah blinked. Then, without hesitation, she grinned.

"I knew it!"

Troy blinked. "You knew?"

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Duh. You guys are always looking at each other. And now you're even more looky."

Gabriella snorted. "More looky?"

Hannah nodded seriously. "Yeah. Like how Hailey and Marcus look at each other at recess."

Gabriella sighed. "Not this again."

Hannah ignored the comment. Instead, she beamed at Gabriella. "Does this mean you're my stepmom now?"

Troy choked.

Gabriella, to her credit, did not.

She laughed, ruffling Hannah's hair. "Pump the brakes, kiddo. We're not there yet."

Hannah shrugged, unbothered. "Okay. But I still think you guys should all move in together."

Troy sighed, lifting a hand to his temple. "Hannah."

Hannah grinned. "What? Just saying."

Gabriella laughed, looking at Troy. "I told you she'd be fine."

Troy exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah. You did."

And as he watched Gabriella lean into Hannah's space, making her giggle, making her feel safe.

Troy realized something.

They weren't just telling Hannah. They were becoming a family. And for the first time in a long time, Troy wasn't afraid of what came next.

Two years later…

It was raining.

Soft, steady, gentle, the kind of rain that made the world feel smaller, quieter.

Troy sat on the couch, a book in his lap, listening to the rhythmic tapping of raindrops against the window. Gabriella was stretched out beside him, barefoot, wrapped in a blanket, half-asleep with her head resting in his lap.

And Hannah? Hannah was on the floor, sketching in her notebook, tongue poking out in concentration.

It was a completely normal evening. Nothing extraordinary. No big declarations. No dramatic gestures. Just them. Together.

Troy shifted slightly, lifting a hand to rest absently on Gabriella's swollen belly. Eight months along now. Any day, their little one would be here, and the quiet moments like this? They were on borrowed time.

Gabriella sighed happily, nuzzling into his lap, not even bothering to open her eyes.

Hannah glanced up. "When does Grandma Montez get here?"

Gabriella snorted. "Enjoy the silence while it lasts."

Troy rolled his eyes. "Your mom is not that bad."

Hannah smirked. "Yeah? She always brings me presents."

Gabriella waved a lazy hand. "I'm just saying, her staying here for the last few weeks of this incubation period will be nice for all of ten minutes."

Troy laughed. "It's okay to be excited, Mari. You and my credit card have been ordering baby things left and right."

Gabriella cracked an eye open. "Oh, I am excited. I just meant for you."

Hannah perked up. "Well, I for one am excited. Grandma Montez said we're going to Target to get stuff for my room too."

Troy stilled. "What?"

"She said I could redecorate my room."

Troy frowned. "What's wrong with your room? We just moved in a year ago. You picked out all that furniture."

Gabriella let out a small laugh.

"Dad, I mean like posters and curtains and, you know, girl stuff."

Troy relaxed. "Oh."

Gabriella lifted her head slightly, meeting his eyes. "Feeling it yet? The Maria effect? How's your blood pressure?"

"It's fine," he said, though the doubt in his voice made Hannah giggle.

"She also said we could go shopping for some new clothes," Hannah added casually. "Like the ones Amy has."

Troy's stomach dropped. Amy. The girl from school who dressed far too much like an adult for his liking.

"Gabriella," he said quietly, a touch of worry seeping in.

Gabriella stretched her arms over her head, sighing dramatically. "Told you that would freak him out."

Hannah giggled, nodding. "You're too easy, Dad."

Troy exhaled, shaking his head with a smile. They were messing with him. Again. And the worst part? He fell for it every time.

He looked at the two of them, Gabriella, wrapped up in her blanket, belly full of their soon-to-be daughter, Hannah, grinning as she went back to her drawing. And something warm, unspoken, settled deep in his chest.

His girls.

Soon to be three.

His family.

The best thing he had ever had.

As the rain continued to fall softly outside, Troy knew.

They had made it.

And there was nowhere else he would rather be.

The End.

It was raining.

Soft, steady, gentle. The kind of rain that made the world feel smaller, quieter.

Troy sat on the couch, a book in his lap, listening to the rhythmic tapping of raindrops against the window.

Gabriella was laid out on the couch barefoot, wrapped in a blanket, half-asleep with her head in his lap.

And Hannah?

Hannah was on the floor, sketching something in her notebook, tongue poking out in concentration.

It was a completely normal evening. Nothing extraordinary. No big dramatic gestures. Just them. Together.

Troy turned his head slightly, lifting a hand, absentminded to Gabriella's swollen belly. She was eight months pregnant with their little one.

She sighed happily, shifting closer, not even opening her eyes.

Hannah glanced up from her drawing. "When does Grandma Montez get here?"

Gabriella snorted, eyes still closed. "Enjoy the silence while it lasts."

Troy rolled his eyes. "Your mom is not that bad."

Hannah smirked. "Yeah? She brings me presents."

Gabriella shrugged. "I'm just saying, her coming to stay here for the last few weeks of this incubation period will be nice for all of 10 minutes."

Troy laughed. "It's okay to be excited Gabi. You two have been ordering things for the baby room left and right."

Gabriella cracked an eye open. "I am excited. I meant for you."

Hannah gestured vaguely. "Well, I for one am excited. Grandma Montez said we were going to Target to get stuff for my room too."

Troy stilled. "What?"

"She said I could redecorate my room." Hannah said with a smile.

Troy raised a brow, "What's wrong with your room? We just moved in a year ago. You picked out all that furniture?"

Gabriella let out a small laugh.

"Dad, I mean like posters and curtains and girl stuff."

Troy relaxed. "Oh."

Gabriella lifted her head slightly, meeting Troy's eyes. "Feeling that yet? The Maria effect? How's your blood pressure?"

"It's fine," he said teasingly.

"She also said we could get some new clothes like the ones that Amy has."

Amy was a girl at school, one of the popular ones who dressed a little too much like a grownup for his liking.

"Gabriella," he said quietly, a little bit of worry seeping in.

She sighed, dramatically, stretching her arms over her head. "Told that would freak him out."

Hannah giggled murmuring her agreement. "You're too easy Dad."

Troy exhaled, smiling softly as he looked at the two of them. Something warm, knowing, unspoken passed between them.

His girls. Soon to be three with the little one on the way.

His family.

The best thing he had ever had.

And as Gabriella settled under her blanket further, while Hannah went back to her drawing, the rain continued to fall softly outside.

Troy knew.

They had made it.

And there was nowhere else he would rather be.

The End.