The Glorified Cootie Exchange

Part Two

"And don't just pretend!" thirteen year old Sharpay Evans cackled, "we'll know if you kissed or not!" Grinning almost maliciously, she wigged her fingers at the pair. "Okay your seven minutes starts now. Have fun!"

With that her head disappeared through the crack in the door and it slammed behind her. Troy Bolton gulped, his palms feeling sweaty and his heart pounding in his chest. Sharpay was gone.

They were alone.

By they, he meant he and Gabriella Montez. Turning around slowly, he saw her sitting on the bed, her arms wrapped around herself. She was wearing a pair of tight dark jeans, a blue Hello Kitty t-shirt and pink Converse sneakers. Her hair was pulled up in a high pony tail and her wrists were loaded down with colourful beaded bracelets. To Troy, she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

"Hi," she said meekly, bringing her hand up to wave. Her bracelets clanged and clattered together when she moved. The sound made Troy even more nervous.

"Hi," he whispered, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. Just kill him now, he thought to himself. It was just his luck that he'd end up having to play seven minutes in heaven—by the hands of Sharpay Evans, no less—and get stuck with the prettiest girl in the eighth grade. Any other boy would be completely delighted at the prospect of swapping spit with Gabriella, but Troy? Troy knew better.

Gabriella Montez was not the kind of girl who played seven minutes in heaven lightly. He imagined that getting her seated on this bed had caused much goading, probably from Sharpay, and that meant that he had to impress. And despite the fact that he had indeed kissed his fair share of girls in his young life, he still wasn't sure he could live up to the standards that someone like Gabriella Montez most likely had set.

Why did she have to be so pretty? he thought again. It was so intimidating, if he was being perfectly honest, having to even be in the same room as her. What was he going to do?

He had been quiet for probably way to long, he realized, as Gabriella coughed awkwardly and folded her arms. Shoving his hands in his jeans pocket, Troy looked off to the side of the room.

"You know," he said softly, "we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'm a good liar. Even though Sharpay says we can't pretend...we can."

Gabriella quirked an eyebrow, obviously annoyed. "What makes you think I don't want to do it?"

Troy blinked, taken aback more than slightly. "Um, I'm sorry, I just assumed—"

"Well," she cut him off, "you assumed wrong. I am a willing participant in this game, Bolton," she all but spit, "and I intend to collect on my kiss."

Sitting up a little straighter, Troy noticed that her face was flushed a bright red. On one hand, Troy figured he could probably count the number of conversations he had had with Gabriella. It wasn't that he didn't like her that caused him not to interact with her, but more that she was, as he kept mentioning, way too pretty, and also way too smart. Boys like Troy, who while perfectly intelligent and well-meaning, couldn't keep up with girls like Gabriella.

So hearing that she wanted to actually participate in the game threw Troy for quite the loop. Yet maybe he shouldn't have been that surprised, given that he had only spoken to her maybe three times before. Either way, he stepped forward and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Um, okay," he said slowly, coming to take a seat next to her on the bed. "I guess if you really want to, we can make out." He might as well just go with the flow, he figured. There wasn't much point in avoiding or putting off kissing Gabriella when she was ready and willing.

At the heart of it all, thirteen year old Troy Bolton was still a thirteen year old Troy Bolton. Which meant he was a thirteen year old male.

Just as he was leaning in, however, his heart pounding and his head reeling, Gabriella placed her hands up in protest. "Wait, wait, wait!" she yelped, "make out? I never said anything about making out!"

It was Troy's turn to quirk an eyebrow. "Uh, Montez, you do know that's what Seven Minutes in Heaven is, don't you? It's not just a peck like Spin the Bottle. It's pretty much making out in a closet for a short period of time."

Flushing hotly (and in an extremely cute way, if Troy did say so himself), Gabriella hugged herself. "Well, how was I supposed to know that?" she asked, annoyed, "it's not like I've played before."

"Well, it's just one of those things you know," Troy said, "especially after you've been kissing for a while."

Beside him, he felt Gabriella stiffen and a small bit of dread crept up his spine. "Wait," he began slowly, turning towards her, "you have been kissed before, right?"

Timidly, Gabriella turned in on herself even further and shook her head. "No, not exactly..."

"Oh," Troy said, letting the information sink in. How had she not been kissed yet? She was so pretty! How had someone not already grabbed her and professed their love for her and kissed her senseless? "Oh."

Jumping off the bed, Troy walked over to the other side of the room. "Well in that case, then we are definitely not kissing."

At this, Gabriella's head shot up. "Excuse me?"

"If you've never been kissed before," Troy said slowly, "then we are not going to kiss right now."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Gabriella said angrily, jumping off the bed. "I'm not good enough for you? Because I'm inexperienced, you're not going to kiss me at all? That is just—"

Troy shook his head frantically and made his way over to her, setting his hands on her arms. "No, no, no, that's not what I mean at all!" he said quickly, "not at all!"

Gabriella glared fiercely at him, and Troy felt oddly disappointed that one of the five conversations he had ever had with Gabriella would now include one in which she was horribly angry and offended. "Then what did you mean?" she spit.

"I just meant...it's your first kiss, Gabriella," he looked down. "It should be with someone special. It should be with someone you really want to kiss. It shouldn't be with just anyone. You should save it for someone who means something, someone who—"

But before he could continue, Gabriella had leapt forward and crushed her lips against his. The kiss was hurried, wet, and he was fairly sure their teeth bumped, but to Troy it was perfect. It was the best kiss he had ever had.

"I'm sorry!" Gabriella said, pressing a hand to her mouth, "I didn't...I don't know what came over me."

Troy shook his head. "No, I'm sorry...you just wasted your first kiss, I..."

"Troy," Gabriella said, pressing a hand to his lips, "it wasn't wasted."

A look of understanding slid over Troy's face and he took her hand in his own. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her's once more, moving gently against her mouth, slowly and softly in comparison to the rushed kiss they had just experienced.

Yet it was over too soon. Sharpay had opened the door and burst out in cackles, delighted that her scheme had worked, and Troy and Gabriella stumbled out of the room as Jason Cross and Martha Cox got shoved in.

For the remainder of the night, Troy was stuck on that kiss.

As he would be for the remainder of his life.

Troy had thought of his fair share of evil schemes in his life time. All seventeen years of it.

There was the time at age seven when he had decided to outsmart Santa Claus. His idea, which at the time seemed foolproof, was anything but. Staying up late with a 'WELCOME SANTA' sign by the Christmas tree. Of course none of this had worked and instead he found himself seven years old and no longer believing in Santa Claus. It was all rather traumatic.

Then there was the time at thirteen, when he and Chad had thought it to be a great idea to get Sharpay Evans back for good. So one day during seventh grade biology, he had snuck into his teacher's classroom, picked the lock of a few key cabinets, and successfully stolen one dead frog that was set to be dissected.

He then placed it in Sharpay's Louis Vuitton handbag. Right before lunch time.

She had, of course, discovered it just as she was paying for her lunch in the cafeteria, screamed bloody murder and promptly burst into tears. This caught the attention of the entire student body, but most importantly of Ms. Thompson who was the monitor of that particular lunch period. Ms. Thompson had then proceeded to keep everyone in the cafeteria until someone confessed to not only putting the frog in Sharpay's purse, but also confess to stealing it to begin with. A meek freshmen (who no one spoke to after this event) claimed that they had seen Troy and Chad slip it in her bag, and it was Chad's over-reaction that gave them away.

They were saddled with a two day suspension and ten hours community service.

Needless to say, while Troy considered himself very smart, he wasn't exactly sure he was a criminal mastermind. Or a mastermind of any sort. So while he had stayed up to well past four AM devising a plan that would not only abolish the enemy (the kissing booth) and win the prize in the end (Gabriella's affections and heart, and if he were so inclined—hand in marriage), he wasn't entirely confident that he could pull it off on his own.

He considered enlisting Chad, who was always a willing warrior and participant in anything that was illegal, forbidden, secret, or just plain wrong. But there were a few factors that made him hesitant. Firstly, Chad was anything but a hopeless romantic, preferring to find cheerleaders he could 'fuck and chuck' before moving on to the next best thing. In Chad's eyes, girls were play things until you were at least twenty-five, and then you could worry about whether or not you hurt their feelings because at that time you could eventually settle down. But at the young age of seventeen, he couldn't help but feel he wasn't getting married anytime soon, and he certainly wasn't going to marry anyone from East High, so there was really no real point in dating seriously or trying to woo his way into the heart of any particular girl.

So to say that he would laugh in Troy's face would be an understatement. Chad was all for the kissing booth, and Troy 'scoring for free', so he probably wouldn't be into the idea of his best friend suddenly feeling the need to forgo all of that in favor of pursuing a girl he had actual interest in.

There was also the fact that Chad was almost failing English and was being tutored every day, so he really didn't have time to help assist Troy with any genius ideas. He needed to keep up his average to stay on the basketball team, and Troy needed him to stay on the basketball team to win. If they didn't win, then his dad would only ride him harder, and really it was all an uncomfortable domino effect that Troy could do without. So Chad was out of the question.

He considered asking Taylor for help, given that she was Gabriella's best friend. Then he realized what he was thinking and nearly banged his head off his desk for being such a total tool.

That left him with two options. He could either do this all by himself, which would be difficult and not entirely impossible, but most likely impossible. Or he could swallow his pride and ask Kelsi Nielson and Ryan Evans.

Which brought him to where he was now, standing awkwardly in front of the pair as they regarded him coolly with amused expressions and thoughtful postures. They were two of Gabriella's closest friends after Taylor, so he couldn't help but think that they would be a wise choice. That and they both had a certain skill that he desperately needed in order to make this happen.

Really, not having them help wasn't an option.

"Well," Ryan said, diplomatically as he folded his hands and leaned over the piano. The trio was in the music room, as that is where Ryan and Kelsi almost always were. "What exactly is in it for us?"

Troy frowned. He hadn't bargained on them actually wanting something in return. "Um, the gratification of knowing you helped someone in need?"

Ryan shot Kelsi a glance and the pair burst into laughter. "Are you kidding?" Ryan asked, "you have basically requested that we not only give up our lunch hour, but that we dedicate at least five hours of preparation in choreographing and figuring out how exactly to perform what you want us to do, as well as not letting on to Gabriella that we know anything of this, and risking public humiliation, and you want to give us gratification and a gold star in return?" He stood up, "I don't think so."

Kelsi folded her arms and nodded. "Ryan's right," she said, "you can't expect us to just do all this for free. That's not only unfair, but it isn't right."

"Exactly."

Troy glared at them. "I wasn't expecting you guys to drive this hard of a bargain."

Raising an eyebrow, Kelsi shook her head. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. But unfortunately, if there's nothing in it for Ryan and I...then I can't say we'll help you out."

"Okay, okay!" Troy said, exasperated, "what exactly do you want in return?"

Ryan laughed jovially, clapping his hands in excitement. "Look at how desperate he is, Kels! He'll literally do anything!"

"I know," Kelsi grinned and leaned back from her position on the piano bench. "It's kind of fantastic. I've never seen the 'Great Troy Bolton' squirm quite this much."

"Okay," Troy said, scooping up his book-bag from the ground beside him, "if all you two are going to do is stand here and ridicule me, then I'll do this without you."

"And how exactly, are you going to do that?" Laughing again, Ryan smirked. "Teach yourself how to play the piano and sing?"

Troy glared at him. He hated Ryan Evans on a good day. The boy was a cocky perfectionist who looked down his nose at jocks such as Troy. Even though they were on the same student council, and Troy was fairly certain he made better grades than Ryan, the boy still acted like he was above him.

Needless to say Troy wasn't thrilled with the prospect of having to work with Ryan. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and his grand gesture that would stop Gabriella from having to mack on the majority of the male student body? Yeah, that was a desperate time.

But was kind of getting to the point where Troy had had it up to here and back with the members of the student council who were not five foot four, female, brunette, and named Gabriella. While he had all but blackmailed Ryan (and by default, Kelsi) into helping him out with his Operation Kissing Booth, he was starting to think that he really could do without them.

At the same time, however, Troy had never orchestrated a grand romantic gesture, and certainly not on his own. He kind of needed all of the help he could get.

But what to offer up in exchange? What was equal to having someone help you score a girl? He would offer up money...but he didn't exactly have any, and he was fairly certain that there was nothing he could offer in ways of school work or creative skills that Ryan and Kelsi couldn't already measure. So what was equal? Helping Ryan score a girl? Tit for tat, Troy guessed. That should be easy; Troy could pick any old cheerleader and shoot them a smile and they'd do whatever he asked (it wasn't exactly something he was proud of, but, well, he wasn't exactly ashamed, either). He figured that would include going on a date with Ryan Evans.

Unfortunately, though, Ryan certainly didn't seem interested in the female persuasion. At all. However...

And as if a lightbulb had been lit over his head, Troy got it. How had he forgotten the lingering gazes, the way Ryan had actively campaigned for the basketball team to get new uniforms when splitting up the budget, despite not playing the sport himself? The R+C doodles Troy had found scratched on part of the desk after a council meeting?

How had it all slipped his mind.

Suddenly, it was like it was cake. There was no way Ryan wouldn't agree to this, cause if Troy knew anything about anything it was that people were far more driven with their hearts than they were with their minds. And this was a matter of the heart.

"Evans," he began slowly, "you're a romantic, wouldn't you say?"

Ryan pursed his lips and adjusted the feathered (and completely tacky, in Troy's opinion) fedora on his head, his blonde locks curling beneath it. "I suppose," he said with a shrug, "but that doesn't quite mean that I am willing and ready to help pen the pages of your love story with Gabriella Montez."

"Well, no," Troy said diplomatically, setting his bag back on the ground. Despite Ryan's complete lack of interest in Troy himself, he certainly had interest in other things. And certain romantic interests most definitely lied in the hands of someone Troy was very close to.

Truthfully, as he debated the best way to phrase his words so he could get his way, Troy again wondered why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Now it seemed like a perfectly reasonable and really smart thing to use to get Ryan to help him out. Of course, he hadn't expected the blonde musician to drive such a difficult bargain, but rolling with the punches.

Folding his own arms over his chest, Troy leaned against the wall. "I guess it is unfair for me to request help with my own love life and not...try to aid your own," Troy grinned, "I mean, you scratch my back I scratch yours, yes?"

"What are you talking about Bolton?" Ryan scowled. "What could you possibly do for my love life?"

All the while, Kelsi sat perched on the piano bench, an amused smirk on her face. Not a fan of her, either, Troy glanced at her with casual disinterest. She would probably be a lot easier to please than Ryan, he figured. She was probably just along for the ride to see how far she and Ryan could push Troy. He almost wanted to applaud her for it.

"I happen to be a very good friend of someone I think you may have an interest in," Troy said casually, examining his fingernails (what the fuck was he doing examining his fingernails?). "So what I'm saying is, you help me out with this Evans, and I'll get you a date with Chad Danforth."

Ryan's jaw dropped open and his face flushed a bright red. "W-what?" he stuttered, "what are you talking about?"

Troy smiled warmly. "I see you at the games all of the time, Evans, and I know you're not there for the cheerleaders. Chad is my best friend, a good guy. I'll put in a good word and hook you up on a little get together. A little date."

Ryan narrowed his eyes. "But he's not exactly—"

"Details, details!" Troy waved his hand, "The heart doesn't know what it wants! So! What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

Just as Ryan was about to open his mouth to speak, Kelsi sprung up from her seat on the piano bench. "Hey!" she cut in, "what's in it for me? Ryan gets a date, but what do I get?"

Troy sighed, exasperated. Why couldn't Kelsi just admit that she was being a stubborn brat at this point. "What do you want, Kelsi?"

Folding her arms over her chest, Kelsi let said quickly, "I want you and Gabriella to perform one of my compositions at the spring talent show. You both have amazing voices, I've heard you both casually singing, and it will bring great attention to my work! She'll do it, I know she will. Especially if it's with you."

"Deal," Troy said without even thinking. If he was lucky, Kelsi would forget, and if he wasn't, he'd think of something else to get out of the talent show. There was no way he was subjecting Gabriella, and if he was being honest; more importantly, himself, to such horrors as a Kelsi Nielson composition. They all sounded like church choir songs.

"So, Evans," he held out his hand, "do we have a deal?"

Ryan regarded him cooly for a moment, as if he was carefully considering the pros and cons of the situation. However, he nodded and extended his hand, shaking Troy's. "We have a deal. We'll rehearse tomorrow during free period. Bring your A game, and if you are smart, Danforth's cell number."

Raising his hand in mock salute, Troy walked out of the room with a nod. "You got it, Evans!"

As he strolled down the hall, however, Troy realized that not only was he going to have to somehow explain to Chad that he was going to have less time to dedicate to passing English than he had originally expected, but that the reason behind that was he had to go on a date with Ryan Evans. Completely straight, non-romantic Chad Danforth was going to have to go on a date with Ryan Evans.

If Troy's brain had been occupied with things other than Gabriella Montez, he would realize what a sticky situation he was getting himself into. However, as he came to a stop in front of his locker, he had no qualms about the situation and rather thought himself to be a very intelligent fellow.

Opening his locker, he set his books on the top shelf. He then reached down and pulled out a bouquet of sunflowers, ruffling their petals ever so carefully. They had been in his locker since he had arrived that morning, and he really hoped they didn't get squished. Firstly, they had been fucking expensive, but if he was being honest (which he was) he really didn't want to mess this up. He wanted to make a good impression on Gabriella.

Not that he felt he had made a necessarily bad impression on her, given that she had freely made out with him a couple of days prior. But her mother had still walked in on them and he hadn't been able to speak to her about it, nevermind formally apologize. So the fear that maybe she would not want nothing to do with him aside from the actual kissing booth had popped into his head, and the only way he could avoid that happening would be to apologize. In a romantic fashion. With flowers.

And flare and shit, something to totally win her over.

Which is why he had made his way over to the florist the night before instead of doing his math homework. He had never been so irresponsible, skipping out on homework for something like this, yet he felt he had to. He simply woke up even earlier than he normally did to squeeze in the time to finish said homework before he went for a run. The result was him being extremely exhausted and seven beautiful, full sunflowers later.

Closing his locker, he looked down at the flowers he had debated about for so long. Sunflowers, the overly enthusiastic florist had told him (in between saying, "Are these for your girlfriend? Oh these are so for your girlfriend, how adorable!" repeatedly) represented cheerfulness. And Gabriella defined cheerful. So Troy felt it was a good fit.

Taking a deep breath and puffing out his chest ever so slightly, he turned to make his way down the hallway, only to be stopped by a petite green monster.

Better known as Taylor Mckessie.

The student council present stood there with her arms folded across her chest, her hip cocked to one side. Dressed in a lime green plaid skirt and matching knit sweater vest and tie, she looked like something out of a prep school horror film. Practically shielding his eyes from the blinding colours, Troy cracked a small grin and quickly hid the flowers behind his back.

He really didn't need her questioning him about them.

"Hey, Mckessie," he said, cheerfully (a little too cheerfully, if he was being honest. He sounded fake as fuck), "how's it going? Headed to a golf tournament?"

Taylor screwed up her face in annoyance. "Oh, screw you, Bolton," she said, scowling at him. "I didn't come here to be insulted."

Troy blinked. "Um, then why did you come here?" he asked, the friendly grin still plastered on his face, "lighten up, Mckessie, you look ravishing. That shade of green, really...suits you."

Adjusting the frankly ridiculously large book-bag on her shoulder (Troy was surprised that she wasn't falling over), Taylor glared. "I am here to see how the progress on the kissing booth is going," she said cooly, "as the President of the student council, it is important that I over see these things."

Smiling, Troy gestured over his shoulder. "The progress is going great, Mckessie. We're almost all set for our launch in Tuesday, and the buzz around the school is positive. So I'd say we're in for a successful get rich quick scheme!"

"Fundraiser," Taylor hissed in correction.

"Same thing."

Rolling her eyes, Taylor noticed his hand was behind his back. "What are you hiding?"

Shifting the flowers so they were better hidden, Troy shrugged casually. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Twisting her head around to get a better look, Troy turned to hide them once more. But Taylor was too quick for him, glancing in the opposite direction and unfortunately for Troy, getting a full glimpse of the bright flowers before he could hide them once more. "Bolton!" she exclaimed. "Are those sunflowers?"

Troy shook his head. "No!" he protested. She stared at him. "Okay, maybe."

The expression on Taylor's face changed slowly, but surely. A look of understanding passed over her and Troy felt suddenly very exposed. "Who are they for?" Taylor asked in a tone that suggested she knew exactly who they were for.

"No one in particular," he said quickly, "now if you'll excuse me—"

"Are they for Gabriella?"

At this, Troy froze and looked down Taylor. How did she know?

"I see how you look at her, Bolton," Taylor said slowly, seriously, as if that explained everything. "Everyone does...everyone but Gabriella. And I am telling you, be careful. This is not a simple situation, Bolton, and you know it. This has the makings to get really messy. Someone is going to get burned. So tread carefully."

Troy frowned, unsure of how to take Taylor's warning. "Um..."

"And if you do anything, anything, to fuck up the kissing booth?" Taylor jabbed him in the chest with her finger, "it will be your head. You hear me? So you had better pray that you don't let your feelings get in the way of the situation, Troy, or I'll see to it that you get kicked off the student council and put in your place. Capice?"

Taylor, for all of her bossy short-comings, was sure as hell scary when mad. Or at least right now. Perhaps had it been a different situation, Troy would have simply laughed off Taylor's threats. But as it was, he found himself nearly trembling. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was definitely trying to fuck up the kissing booth, and he definitely had feelings for Gabriella, and somehow Taylor knew. Regardless, he found himself nodding slowly.

"You got it, Mckessie," he said seriously, "no funny business going on here."

Glaring, Taylor hitched her bag on her shoulder once more. "Good," she said, "I'll see you later."

And with that she was gone and Troy was left trying to regain some composure.

Composure, however, proved to be very hard to regain as he walked down the hall and grew closer to Gabriella's locker. Upon arrival, he felt anything but composed, especially seeing her in front of her locker, decked out in a cream coloured, sleeveless dress covered in small brown polka dots. She wore a thin brown leather belt around her waist and light tan oxfords on her feet, a large canvas bag dangling over her shoulder. The dress gave an excellent view of her toned and tanned legs and Troy felt instantly nervous. She was so ridiculously hot.

Taylor was right. If anyone in the situation was going to get burned, it was going to be him, and only because Gabriella was smoking.

Okay, Troy, he thought to himself, it's now or never. You don't want to go with never, because never means you won't know if this could go somewhere. Never means you could be forty years old and miserable and wondering what if. Never means never getting to kiss her again. Never is what Justin Bieber wants you to never say...wait. He paused. Why was he thinking about Justin Bieber at a time like this?

Why was he thinking about Justin Bieber ever, at all?

Shaking off the thoughts, Troy knew that there was only now, and with that, he stepped forward closing the distance between where he stood and Gabriella's locker. Creeping up behind her as she organized her books for the evening, Troy swooped in and presented the flowers in front of her with flourish. "Mi'lady," he said gallantly, "these are for you."

Gabriella let out a small squeal of surprise before turning around. "Oh my god," she said, her voice soft and excited, "Troy! What...I..."

"I am really sorry about the other day," he said quickly, thrusting the flowers at her, which she took happily. "I am sorry that we were...you know...and that your mom...you know. I really hope you didn't get in too much trouble."

Gabriella shrugged, bringing the flowers up to her nose to give them a sniff. "Not exactly. My mom trusts me...and while she thought the situation was a little...odd, she understood, I guess." Turning around to close her locker, she smiled. "I mean, I'm not allowed to have boys over alone anytime soon, or ever, but I'm not grounded till I'm forty or anything."

"Phew," Troy said, "that's a relief."

Raising her eyebrows, Gabriella giggled. "Oh is it, now?"

Troy smiled bashfully. "Well, yeah," he said, "I wouldn't want to be responsible for your untimely imprisonment."

"Well, if I did end up imprisoned, it was totally worth it."

Troy felt himself flush a dark red colour at this, before looking in another direction, at a complete loss of things to say. "Well, um, I'm glad."

Gabriella blushed now, feeling slightly awkward in return. "The flowers are beautiful, Troy," she said sincerely. "You really didn't have to do this."

"But I wanted, too," he said earnestly, "I still feel bad that you even had to go through that at all with your mom. And it was my suggestion, so really, it's only fair that I try to apologize somehow."

"Still," Gabriella said, trailing off, "this is beyond an average apology. Especially for a teenage guy."

Flashing her his most disarming smile, Troy laughed. "I'm not your average teenage boy then."

Grinning back, Gabriella leaned forward and hooked her arm around his neck, the dangling by her side in her freehand. On instinct, Troy looped his own arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. "No, you most certainly are not," she said softly, her breath fanning on his cheek. "Thank you."

She leaned in then, and pressed a soft, gently kiss to his cheek, before pulling back and smiling at him shyly. While Troy was fairly certain he seemed calm on the outside, inside he was running around in circles. She was so close! And she had kissed him on the cheek! What had he done to deserve such wonders?

"So you know, the kissing booth is in two days," Gabriella said coyly, her arm still around Troy's neck. She idly played with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, and Troy found himself enjoying the feel far too much.

He nodded. "So I've heard."

"And I was just thinking, that we still have to kiss all of these people."

"Right..." Troy said with another nod.

Gabriella shrugged nonchalantly, "And I don't know, I was just thinking that maybe...since we helped each other out so well last time with practice, that maybe we should...continue with the prep-work."

"Ohhhh," Troy said, mock seriously, "you may be right. This is serious analytical business after all. The art of kissing."

"Exactly," Gabriella said grinning, and Troy's arm around her waist tightened ever so slightly. "So maybe we should put in a little bit more practice. I mean, so many people are counting on us."

"So many."

"And we really, really wouldn't want to disappoint."

Given the kisses they had already shared, Troy was fairly certain anyone who kissed Gabriella would not at all be disappointed. The only way customers of Gabriella's would be disappointed was when they wouldn't get a chance to kiss her at all...which if his plan went according to, well, plan, that is exactly what would happen.

But Gabriella didn't need to know that right now, and on the off chance she did end up having to kiss a couple of guys before he was able to put his grand gesture into 'Wooing' mode, a little practice couldn't hurt. Practicing with Gabriella would never hurt anyone.

Leaning in so their foreheads were touching, Troy grinned. "My place or yours?"

They had decided on Troy's place for two reasons. The first was obvious: his was closer. Since his father was the school's physical education teacher, and coach of the basketball team, it only made the most sense to live nearby his workplace. So the short distance from East High and the Bolton residence made was a definite plus, given that it allowed for the optimal amount of making out time, otherwise known as practice, before any and all parents came home.

Which brought them to point number two: while Gabriella's mom had been plenty understanding about the situation as a whole, Gabriella figured it probably wouldn't be such a good idea to parade their practice sessions around because at that point, it was unlikely she would be so understanding or understanding at all, for that matter. Practicing together once, while totally and completely strange, was forgivable and made a small semblance of sense when broken down and sugar coated the way daughters do. However continued practice? Probably wouldn't make so much sense to Ms. Montez.

So as a result, Troy's house it was.

Which brought them to an hour and a half later, sprawled out on Troy's bed and entirely attached at the lips. To say Troy wanted it to last forever would be a lie. Forever wasn't nearly enough to continue on with the addicting feel of Gabriella's lips against his, her tongue moving gently against his. It was completely and entirely intoxicating, and he found himself once again beating himself up over not kissing her sooner.

Cause she was really good at it.

"You're an amazing kisser," Gabriella suddenly cooed against his mouth, her lips slightly chapped and entirely swollen. She looked sexy as hell and Troy couldn't help but dive in for more.

"Why, thank you," he said with a chuckle as he smacked their lips together once more. "Have to say the same goes for you."

Feeling her small hand snake underneath the hem of his t-shirt, Troy let out a soft moan at the sensation. Her hand was cold, but felt so good as it ran up the ridges of his spine, tracing ever so slowly and causing goosebumps to erupt on his skin.

Gabriella let out a giggle at his reaction, and he smirked against her lips. "Are you ticklish, Bolton?" she said with a bat of her eyelashes.

Licking his way back into her mouth, Troy traced the edge of her lips, his hand sliding up from its position on her hip. "No," he responded coolly, nibbling on her bottom lip. "Are you?"

His hand ran over the curve of her waist line, dragging his fingers over her ribs and feeling her twist beneath him. She let out a laugh and disconnected their mouths, squirming and rubbing against him in all the right places completely unintentionally. Things were definitely going to get dangerous, but he couldn't feel himself stop.

"Oh! You are!" he said with a laugh, ducking his head in the crook of her neck and peppering the skin there with kisses. "Are you ticklish here, too?"

He sucked and sipped at the skin, feeling her continue to writhe. Her hand slid out from his shirt and fell onto his hip, pulling him against her and Troy felt his cheeks flush at her implied consent. Things were getting heated, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Oh, who was he kidding, he was a guy. He was jumping for joy at the feel of her body pressed against his in such an intimate way, the smell of her skin as he marked the flesh of her neck. He was in heaven.

But at the same time they were still moving too quickly. Yet as his hand crept up her side and made its way just beneath her bust line and she moaned into his mouth and hell to it all, they weren't going to go that far. They knew better than that.

A little heavy making out never killed anyone.

"You smell so good," he whispered, his hand traveling dangerously close to her breast as he trailed a line of kisses from her neck to her jawline, finally meeting her mouth with his own again. "Like sugar."

Gabriella gasped into his mouth. "It's my perfume."

"It's amazing," he murmured in between kisses, roughly wondering if his pillow would smell like her later.

Losing himself in the kiss, he stopped thinking after that, his hand having gone from lingering near her chest to resting upon it. In return, her hand had made its way back up his shirt and was tracing along the lines of his stomach and oh, things were getting to be too much.

That was until it all came crashing down.

"Oh! Troy!" Troy's head snapped up at the sound of his voice, and he felt himself go red from head to toe as he saw his father standing in the doorway of his bedroom. "Oh, shit! I mean, shoot! I mean!"

Coach Bolton was a man of few words, and the words that he did speak were often serious, tempered, but well meaning. While the pressure his father put on him was ultimately one of the larger factors that contributed to Troy's desire to get out of this house and as far away from Albuquerque as he could manage, at the end of the day, his father was not a bad man and he didn't have that strained of a relationship with him.

However, that did not mean he was one hundred percent all for discussing his life with his dad, nor was he at all interested in having his father walk in on him gyrating against Gabriella, who as far as his father knew, was the vice-president of the student council and nothing else to Troy. So yes, it was a little awkward, having his father standing in the room bugged eyed while Troy had his hand up her dress.

(Over the bra, but still, he was definitely lingering over her chest and his dad could see, and oh Jesus, is this what Gabriella had gone through?)

"Dad!" Troy said, trying to keep his breathing even (which was difficult, considering he was already lacking oxygen from having his mouth attached to Gabriella's for so long). "I um, didn't expect you to be home so early.

Slowly retracting his hand from Gabriella's chest, Troy sat up calmly, Gabriella following suit. He cleared his throat, as if trying to make the situation as relaxed as possible. His father had just walked in on him making out with a girl, it was okay, worse things had happened and if anything, if they handled this like mature adults everything should be fine.

Unfortunately for Troy, however, a cheshire like grin spread across his father's face as he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe rather casually. "Oh really, now?" he said, his voice laced thick with amusement. "So you and, it's Miss Montez, isn't it?" he gestured towards Gabriella, who was awkwardly adjusting her shirt, "Were just hoping to catch a lucky break?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Get it? A lucky break?"

At this, Troy groaned inwardly. The problem with handling things maturely was that his father, at times, was anything but mature. His mother often complained that she felt like she was raising two children instead of one, and Troy could completely and entirely see where she was coming from. His father was absolutely childish! As he stood in the doorway, practically holding his sides from laughter, Troy tried to think of a way to salvage the situation.

"Dad," he said forcefully, "don't be...ugh, this is Gabriella," he said formally, "we're on student council together."

Flashing a winning smile at Gabriella, his father nodded. "Oh, I know who Miss Montez is!" he said happily, "I'm sorry for the joke, Miss."

Gabriella shook her head, her cheeks flushed a dark crimson. She forced a small smile on her face, trying desperately to make the best of the situation, and Troy felt something squeeze at his heart at it. "It's not a problem, Coach," she said in her best 'I'm not completely mortified oh my god kill me' voice.

"Just trying to lighten the mood!" he said and Troy wanted him to go away. Why wasn't he leaving? Why hadn't he yelled at them, and why were he and Gabriella still seated on the bed as if nothing had happened? "But yes, I most certainly know who you are! You're quite the presence among the students at the school!"

Flushing even darker, Gabriella giggled uncomfortably. "Oh, you know..." she said, trailing off, "I like to keep busy. And productive!" Her face was crimson now, as she stammered for words. "You know, college transcripts and the like!"

"Good for you," Coach Bolton said with a nod. "Troy is doing the same. You two make quite the pair!"

At this, Troy and Gabriella exchanged an awkward glance. His father knew very well that they were both participating in the kissing booth (especially since the proceeds were going to go to new uniforms for his team), so why wasn't he putting two and two together.

Oh, yeah, maybe it was because their situation was bordering on friends with benefits. And no one really ever assumes someone is friends with benefits, right? Especially since Troy and Gabriella had never exactly been friends.

"Uh, what do you mean, dad?"

"I mean you're good for each other!" he clapped his hands, grinning, "I mean, as much as I knew about Miss Montez, I had no idea she was your new girlfriend!"

At this, Gabriella's jaw fell open and Troy felt her instantly tense beside him. "Um, dad," he began quickly, "we're—"

"A good pair! I know, I keep saying," his father began babbling, "your mother will be delighted that you've found yourself such a catch like Gabriella. Though, I guess it's gonna be a little awkward for you two to do the kissing booth, huh?"

"Um..."

"I mean, you're going to have to watch each other kiss other people. I hope you're mature enough to handle that," he said sternly, "this is not a normal scenario for young love. Unless you're in the acting industry, which neither of you are, so I suggest you reign in your jealousy."

The silence in the room was positively paralyzing. Troy was fairly certain that it was so quiet that it physically hurt. There stood his father, looking at them with his hands on his hips and making an utter fool out of himself, while he sat next to his Dream Girl completely numb beside her.

To say it was awkward would be the biggest understatement of the century, if not the history of the entire world.

Galaxy, even. Aliens had certainly never had this much of an awkward moment in their lives.

"Have you two had the talk?"

At this point, Troy jumped up. "Dad, she's not my girlfriend! Gabriella's just a friend and we are just preparing for the kissing booth and you're being really, really lame and embarrassing right now."

Jack Bolton, forty-two years of age and a full grown man, seemed completely bemused at this. His mouth fell slightly ajar, but other than that, he merely shrugged. "Oh. I see. Well, then. Huh." Scratching his head, he apprised them once more before clapping his hands. "Forget everything I just said then!"

A very long pause continued between the three of them until Jack clapped his hands once more. "Okay! Who wants hamburgers! Gabriella, you're welcome to stay for dinner!" And with that, he turned on his heel, and spun out of the room.

Turning around slowly, Troy looked back at Gabriella. She had her hands folded in her lap, her hair slightly ruffled and her shirt still slightly askew. Her lips were swollen and her face was still a bright pink.

She looked gorgeous.

His dad, though completely off base, was right. Gabriella and he would make a good pair. They both were hard workers, lovers of sarcasm, and well...there was all of this chemistry between them.

He wished he could have told his dad that she was his girlfriend. But as it was, they were still getting to know each other. Though if everything went as planned...perhaps she would be more than just his kissing practice partner.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and flopped down on the bed beside her. He felt her shift and lay down next to him, and he turned his head to look at her.

She smiled softly, before reaching down and grabbing his hand. "Are we always gonna have a parent walk in on us?"

Troy laughed and leaned over, kissing her on the nose. She was too cute; he simply couldn't resist. "I'm sorry about that," he whispered, his breath fanning her face. "He gets a little...carried away sometimes."

Gabriella shrugged, her thumb dragging circles across the surface of his hand. "That's okay. At least he didn't freak out like my mom did."

Troy studied her expression carefully. She still seemed a little flustered, a little uncomfortable, but for the most part, at ease. And suddenly he found he didn't want her to leave. He didn't want to send her home just because one of the most embarrassing things ever had happened to them twice. And so he found himself opening his mouth before his brain could catch up with it.

"How do you feel about ice cream?"

Half an hour later, Troy and Gabriella were seated on a park bench with two ice cream cones in their hands and four dollars less in their pockets. Troy had tried to be the chivalrous gentlemen he was raised (which was really rich considering her had totally been feeling her up less than an hour ago) and pay for both of their cones, but Gabriella had refused.

"We're not on a date, and I am an independent woman, Troy!" she had said, entirely serious, "I can pay for my own ice cream."

Upon seeing his dejected and rather disappointed face about the whole situation (and he was kind of completely confused by his own actions—why was he so upset that she wouldn't let him pay for ice cream?), she had smiled, leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, thanking him for being 'so sweet' and considerate.

If Troy was being honest, that kiss probably made up for it, but he still made a mental note to buy her ice cream at a later date and make sure there was no way possible that she could pay for it.

So they sat, Gabriella on the right and Troy on the left, a cotton candy ice cream cone in her hand and a plain old vanilla in his.

"I can't believe you got vanilla!" Gabriella exclaimed, nudging her leg with his. "That's so boring!"

"Hey!" Troy said indignantly, "vanilla is a classic. Don't be dissing up vanilla."

Gabriella rolled her eyes and her small pink tongue darted out to take a lick of her own ice cream. "Oh, please," she said, "vanilla is the flavor that wants to be all of the other favors!"

Troy scoffed his mouth twisted into a scowl in annoyance. "How dare you! How can you back up such a claim! Vanilla was an ice cream flavor before any of the ice cream flavors you enjoy were even born! It is the God of all other ice cream flavors! The Pope, even! It is the Madonna to your ice cream's Lady Gaga! The chicken before the egg!"

"Or did the egg come first?" Gabriella challenged. "I just mean that the only real appeal of vanilla is that you can decorate it and flavor it with all kinds of other things. It is a base flavor, if you will. You can add stuff to it, such as chocolate fudge and whipped cream and nuts and bubble gum, but it's still boring on its own! Unlike cotton candy ice cream, which is an entirely unique and stunning flavor all on its own and not to be messed with."

Troy smiled at her, taking what she was saying slightly deeper. If people were ice cream flavors, Gabriella certainly would not be Vanilla. Maybe she would be cotton candy; bright and happy and so, so ridiculously sweet. Or maybe she'd be rocky road; sweet as chocolate, but as tough as the nuts, and as fluffy as the marshmallows. Or maybe...

Or maybe he was totally comparing her to a dairy product. Holy shit, did he have it bad.

As much as Troy enjoyed making out with Gabriella (and he totally, totally did), he couldn't help but really enjoy sitting next to her on this park bench, eating ice cream and just hanging out. She was absolutely everything he could ever want; smart, pretty, talented, funny. And just being with her was making his days seem a million times better. The feeling he got with her was addicting.

He didn't want to let it go.

Shaking off the feeling, knowing that he could tread in these waters at a later time, he went back to his ice cream cone. He had a plan to win her over, and yes, it was going to take some time to put it into action, but it was a plan nevertheless.

"So, your dad seems really nice!" Gabriella said licking her cone. "Not that he hasn't always seemed nice; he was definitely one of the teachers I didn't hate when I had him for gym freshmen year. But you know, on a personal level."

Troy shrugged. "Yeah, dad's pretty cool for the most part."

Gabriella raised a delicate eyebrow, lowering her ice cream cone. "For the most part?"

"Yeah," Troy said softly, "for the most part. He's still a parent I guess."

"Ah," Gabriella added quietly, "aren't they all."

A silence fell between them, one the was neither awkward nor entirely comfortable and Troy cleared his throat, feeling the need to elaborate. "He's never been awful to me or anything, but he definitely has his eyes of what I should do with my future. It doesn't ruin our relationship by any means, but it's something that we don't necessarily see eye to eye on."

"What do you mean, if you don't mind me asking?" Tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, she focused her full attention on him, and Troy found himself practically melting at the feel of her warm eyes settling upon his face. He shifted, feeling his cheeks flush at her intense gaze.

"Just that he'd rather see me play professional ball for the Lakers one day or something. And I mean, the Lakers? No thanks."

Gabriella blinked. "Well, I know nothing about sports, so I can't really judge. I'm not even sure what city they play for."

"Los Angeles," Troy said with a laugh, "and I don't know. I guess it could be cool. I love basketball, but I in no way shape or form want it to be my life. It's what, ten, fifteen years if you're lucky of a career and then you're washed up and retired by the time you're forty."

"Oh, totally," Gabriella said, "that sounds horrible. I don't know how they do it."

Troy shook his head. "It's just that I've worked really hard these past few years at East High. I'd kind of like to put it to good use, you know?"

Gabriella nodded, quickly licking up the ice cream that had dripped down the sides of her cone during their conversation. "I know what you mean," she admitted. "You don't want it to be all for naught."

"Yeah."

"So," she said, watching as he bit into his waffle cone. "What do you want to do? Ideally, I mean?"

"To be honest?" he took another bite of the sugar substance, "I don't really know. I just know I want to do something that involves a degree. Maybe something with numbers. Like an accountant or something. Or maybe not," he trailed off, "maybe something with books and words. I just know I'd like to study in California, where it's warm and sunny and awesome."

Gabriella laughed. "Where you can study by the beach and pick up chicks at the same time?"

"You got it," he said with a wink. "Not really, of course, but I love California. It's more relaxed and I feel like so much more is happening there than in Albuquerque."

Letting out a snort, Gabriella began polishing off her own cone. "So much more is happening anywhere that isn't Albuquerque."

"You think so, too, huh?" Troy leaned back against the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. "What about you, Miss Montez," he grinned, "you said you're going to med-school, right?"

She nodded. "That's the plan since I was in my mother's womb. I've applied nearly everywhere, but I'll probably end up going somewhere like Yale or Harvard or Stanford. Somewhere prestigious that my mother can brag about."

Troy didn't say anything for a moment, noting how bitter she sounded. Glancing over at her, he saw the same tired expression she had worn in the car the other day when she had mentioned wanting to work for Rolling Stone. A mask full of acceptance and defeat.

"Is that what you really want?" he said and as she tensed up, he instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"No, Troy," she laid a hand on his arm, "it's okay. I just don't talk about it much. But no, it's not what I want." She let out a heavy sigh and dropped her ice cream on the ground, crushing it beneath her heel. "I want to write. But my dad was a doctor and he passed away and it's kind of been...my mom kind of wants me to carry it on in his memory."

She let out another sigh and ran a hand through her hair, looking sad and aggravated. "And my mom, Troy, she has done so, so much for me. She is the most amazing, understanding, brilliant woman. And my father, he was amazing, too. I should be honored and thrilled to do something for them, something that will make them proud and happy."

Tossing his own ice cream on the ground, Troy sat up a little straighter. "I'm sure they'd be proud of whatever you do, Gabriella."

She shrugged. "Maybe. But I want to do this if only because I know it's what they want more than anything. My entire life, all I've known is that I am supposed to become a doctor. I enjoy medicine, I do, and I'm good at it, but...I'm not doing it because I love it. But I've long ago come to the realization that we can't always have what we want, and I'm okay with that. Sometimes we have to do what we need to do rather than what we want."

Troy didn't say anything for a moment, carefully weighing his options and trying to say the rest as tactfully as possible. "My dad, he's a tough guy, like I said, and he wants me to play professional ball. And the thing is, we haven't outwardly discussed my plans to never do so. And yeah, he's going to be mad, and he's going to be disappointed, but the thing is, Gabi," he looked her in the eye at this point, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes. "It's not his life to live. So eventually, he'll get over it, and eventually, he'll be proud of me. All parents learn to accept that we need to be our own people sooner or later. They have to, because they are our parents and they love us."

"And if anyone deserves to do what they love, it's you Gabriella," he smiled at her. "And if your mom is anything like you, then I know she'd be just as understanding if you said you wanted to study mathematics at Harvard or writing at Yale or law at Stanford. She might not get it right away, and she might be disappointed, but she would still be just as proud that you had made the decision on your own."

A beat passed between them. Then another, and another until Troy was positively certain that she was going to stand up and leave him there. Only she didn't. All she did was slide forward and press her lips to his, the sweet taste of sugary cotton candy ice cream mixing with vanilla.

Pulling back, she rested her hand on his cheek, running her fingers over his features. He didn't say anything, as if afraid to ruin the moment, and waited until she moved forward once more to connect their lips in a brief, soft kiss.

Smiling as they broke apart, she wrapped her hand around his neck and played with the hairs at the nape. "You're kind of amazing, Troy Bolton," she whispered.

Flushing, he leaned into her touch before wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her nose. "And you're some kind of wonderful, Gabriella."

Snuggling into him, she laughed. "We had better get home," she said, "it's getting late."

Nodding, he stood up, and the two began to make their way out of the park.

Later that night, Troy sat at his desk, looking over sheet music and furiously typing an e-mail to Kelsi Nielson. The taste of vanilla and cotton candy still lingered on his lips, and he smiled at the taste.

"You're just too good to be true," he sang under his breath quietly, "can't keep my eyes off of you..."

One day left until the kissing booth. So much to do, so little time.

I am terribly sorry that I did not update as planned, but as I said: things do not always go as planned. There are important things to remember. I have a life, a very busy one in which I am a university student who has a social life and also maintains a part time job. At times I am too tired to function, nevermind write fic. I understand there are people who can juggle all of them, but unfortunately for me something has to give. These fics take a long amount of time and thought; each chapter is over 10,000 words. I cannot just churn them out like I used to. Trust me, I wish I could, but I can't. This story has a very specific tone that is impossible to write unless in the right mindset, and given the nature of things at the moment, it isn't always easy for me to turn that mindset on and off. I hope you understand this and don't hate me too much.

That said, I will probably no longer be answering questions about when the next update will be coming unless I have a 100% definite answer. I don't want to disappoint you guys, but I also really don't want messages on my tumblr (which isn't fandom related) saying that I've let you down. It makes me sad, it makes you sad, and in general, it's no fun at all. :(

There are a lot of wonderful people who contributed to this chapter done. As always, to Julina, who is there from the start to finish of every chapter and scene and my number one motivator. To Kirsten, who gave me a laugh during the writing of the kissing scenes and for doing some A+ betaing. And to Alyssa, one of my most lovely best friends who is an amazing editor and cheerleader. I love all of you!

And to you guys for being so supportive and encouraging! It is really what makes me want to continue writing.

There is a fanmix at my Livejournal! Enjoy it!

Until next time! I hope it was worth the wait.