Fourteen Minutes Preview
For the record, I had planned to post this preview long before I had any discussion on fanforum about posting something. It's a short snippet that I hope you will find relatively enjoyable. And if you hate it, well... better tell me now before I post the story next month.
And I give you a preview of Fourteen Minutes:
Taylor enclosed her palm around Gabriella’s wrist, almost inducing a burning sensation on the division of her lemon-colored long sleeve and the silky surface of her skin. “Gabriella,” she boldly stated her name with such a defiance and conviction that the aspiring journalist had no choice but to remain frozen in her tanned seat. The power of her stare was so overwhelming that the bustling of the busy coffee shop was silenced under her wake. “Don’t make assumptions; he’s not a bad person.”
The midnight coils that twirled down her back flipped as she shook her head, ignoring the café orders that faded in the background. “I never said he was.” She shifted her line of vision away from the persuading eyes.
“I’ve known you since we were fourteen Gabs, I know that look,” The curve of Taylor’s bob sashaying back and forth. “You don’t understand. Troy, he has a past.”
A spark ignited deep within her heart as she slowly raised her gaze to once again meet her best friend. It was a tiny flame of curiosity that began to flicker with longing. A brew of inquisitions began to swell beneath the walls of her stomach, the natural reaction that drove her towards the profession of her dreams. Gabriella swallowed and stiffly straightened her back on the decorative rungs of her chair. “What do you mean, he has a past?”
Sharpay rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue annoying. “It’s not rocket science, Montez. She means exactly that.”
The NYU graduate glared at the blonde before turning back to Gabriella. “He has a few,” Taylor hesitated and traced the outside of the now empty dish with her nail. “Skeletons in his closet.”
She cocked an eyebrow, excitement of the mystery hammering wildly in her chest. “Skeletons?” Gabriella questioned skeptically. “What? Is he like, some psychopathic murderer or something?” The joke was only barely out of humor, for her forced laugh was derived from her nerves.
Taylor glanced across the dark surface of the table and caught Sharpay’s wary eye. The exchange did not go unnoticed by the odd one out and Gabriella’s heart jumped into her throat at the conformation of disaster in his previous life. Sharpay opened her mouth, and for the first time since she had met the obnoxious drama queen, the star was at a loss for words.
“No,” Taylor replied slowly. “He’s not.”
She chewed on her bottom lip like an addict about to receive a whiff of heroine. “Then, what happened?”
For a brief moment, she thought they were going to crack. Taylor and Sharpay both stared at each other, silently discussing whether the information was allowed to be revealed. Gabriella couldn’t feel her fingers as they flexed beneath the table, fidgeting with restlessness and anticipation. Her jean clad legs were jittering, and it took all her strength to remain seated in the stillness.
Finally, Sharpay crashed her bony back against the seat once again and shrugged. “I’m not gonna waste my time talking about fucking Troy Bolton. If you wanna know, pester him.” She snatched her frappachino once again and sucked violently; leaving it blatantly obvious that Troy would not reveal to her what the secret was but escaped trouble none the less.
But she would not quit.
The wheels in her brain were cranking at cosmic speeds that almost blew off the top of her skull. The truth was Gabriella’s obsession. The day she first scurried around with her Princess notebook at five years old was the same day that she dedicated her entire life to testing the validity of every situation thrown at her. She drank in the facts like nourishment and absorbed every bit of information -useless or not- like a detective on a murder scene. The Tribute accepted her internship as a reporter because of her passion, her determination never to leave the mystery unsolved.
Whatever the skeleton in Troy’s closet was, Gabriella would stop at nothing to discover exactly what was rotting in his past. Count on it.
And I give you a preview of Fourteen Minutes:
Taylor enclosed her palm around Gabriella’s wrist, almost inducing a burning sensation on the division of her lemon-colored long sleeve and the silky surface of her skin. “Gabriella,” she boldly stated her name with such a defiance and conviction that the aspiring journalist had no choice but to remain frozen in her tanned seat. The power of her stare was so overwhelming that the bustling of the busy coffee shop was silenced under her wake. “Don’t make assumptions; he’s not a bad person.”
The midnight coils that twirled down her back flipped as she shook her head, ignoring the café orders that faded in the background. “I never said he was.” She shifted her line of vision away from the persuading eyes.
“I’ve known you since we were fourteen Gabs, I know that look,” The curve of Taylor’s bob sashaying back and forth. “You don’t understand. Troy, he has a past.”
A spark ignited deep within her heart as she slowly raised her gaze to once again meet her best friend. It was a tiny flame of curiosity that began to flicker with longing. A brew of inquisitions began to swell beneath the walls of her stomach, the natural reaction that drove her towards the profession of her dreams. Gabriella swallowed and stiffly straightened her back on the decorative rungs of her chair. “What do you mean, he has a past?”
Sharpay rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue annoying. “It’s not rocket science, Montez. She means exactly that.”
The NYU graduate glared at the blonde before turning back to Gabriella. “He has a few,” Taylor hesitated and traced the outside of the now empty dish with her nail. “Skeletons in his closet.”
She cocked an eyebrow, excitement of the mystery hammering wildly in her chest. “Skeletons?” Gabriella questioned skeptically. “What? Is he like, some psychopathic murderer or something?” The joke was only barely out of humor, for her forced laugh was derived from her nerves.
Taylor glanced across the dark surface of the table and caught Sharpay’s wary eye. The exchange did not go unnoticed by the odd one out and Gabriella’s heart jumped into her throat at the conformation of disaster in his previous life. Sharpay opened her mouth, and for the first time since she had met the obnoxious drama queen, the star was at a loss for words.
“No,” Taylor replied slowly. “He’s not.”
She chewed on her bottom lip like an addict about to receive a whiff of heroine. “Then, what happened?”
For a brief moment, she thought they were going to crack. Taylor and Sharpay both stared at each other, silently discussing whether the information was allowed to be revealed. Gabriella couldn’t feel her fingers as they flexed beneath the table, fidgeting with restlessness and anticipation. Her jean clad legs were jittering, and it took all her strength to remain seated in the stillness.
Finally, Sharpay crashed her bony back against the seat once again and shrugged. “I’m not gonna waste my time talking about fucking Troy Bolton. If you wanna know, pester him.” She snatched her frappachino once again and sucked violently; leaving it blatantly obvious that Troy would not reveal to her what the secret was but escaped trouble none the less.
But she would not quit.
The wheels in her brain were cranking at cosmic speeds that almost blew off the top of her skull. The truth was Gabriella’s obsession. The day she first scurried around with her Princess notebook at five years old was the same day that she dedicated her entire life to testing the validity of every situation thrown at her. She drank in the facts like nourishment and absorbed every bit of information -useless or not- like a detective on a murder scene. The Tribute accepted her internship as a reporter because of her passion, her determination never to leave the mystery unsolved.
Whatever the skeleton in Troy’s closet was, Gabriella would stop at nothing to discover exactly what was rotting in his past. Count on it.