I could still smell his aroma everywhere.

His scent followed me everywhere that day. And the day before. It's like it would never leave. It's like his scent wanted me to go back to him so I could smell him for real. But I knew I couldn't do that. Not after the way I broke his heart.

I was sitting at the lunch table with the friends who had always got my back. They were chit chatting about everything they could think of. They tried to include me in but I didn't feel like it. I felt guilty.

I didn't want to look at him. He was sitting right there. Across from me. I kept looking down at my lunch. Yeah, a plate of pasta that looked like separated mashed potatoes and a strawberry Jell-O cup wasn't so interesting. It's the only thing I could look at besides his eyes.

I didn't mean it. I swear. I just… I was so stressed out about the people coming up to me saying 'You're not good enough for him' or 'He deserves better' or 'You're just a geek; 'why would he be interested in you'. It got on my nerves and I knew talking to him wasn't going to stop it. It was other people's opinions and nobody could change that unless they changed it themselves.

I broke it off. I can still see the look on his face. Actually, I can see half of it. The bottom half was looking at down at his shoes. He didn't want me to see his reaction to it but I saw it. The exact same expression was right there, painted on my face, staring back at him when he looked up. He said okay and just left- leaving with me with no one but my shadow.

How come I had to break it off? I thought relationships were about trusting each other, communicating with each other so they could become stronger. I was so stupid. But I had done it. And I can't change it unless he gave me a second chance. And I doubted that.

"Gabi, are you okay?" My best friend said to me. Taylor placed a hand on my arm. I shook my head.

"No I'm not." I grabbed my lunch tray and stood up. I couldn't be there anymore. I needed to get away. I threw my lunch away and ran out of the cafeteria, bringing my bookbag with me.

I pulled out my cell phone and pressed speed dial number 2. He was always number one. I didn't take him off my speed dial in case I wanted to say something to him. Something important. But I doubted that he'd pick up if I'd ever tried.

"Mommy, can you come pick me up at school? I don't feel so good."

I flung myself onto my bed. I couldn't stop the tears coming down now; I've used up all that strength trying not to cry on my ride home. My mother asked me questions, asking if I was okay. She knew I wasn't okay. She still had to ask. She already knew the answer. I wished she'd stop asking.

I took off my clothes one by one onto the bathroom floor, not caring if the bacteria would eat up my clothes, infecting with diseases so I can be sick and not go to school tomorrow. I knew I had to face him, just not now.

I let the steaming water slither around my body like a dozen of snakes finding their way down to my feet. I closed my eyes, memorizing how it feels for him to touch my body. How he caressed my body down onto him. We fitted perfectly with me around his arms, our legs tangled on the bed. I would always sleep on his chest while he played with some of my curls. He would stay overnight just to keep me safe, to whisper the 'I love you's into my ears so when I fall asleep, I would be smiling. He's not there anymore to do any of those stuff. It's just me, myself, and I. All alone.

I climbed out of the shower and wrapped myself with a clean towel. I ran into my room, hoping that he would be there waiting for me.

He wasn't there.

I sighed as I grabbed some fresh clothes from my closet. I pulled out all the clothes he left at my house whenever he felt like sleeping over: his green plaid boxers, his red East High gym shorts from his sophomore year, his black East High basketball sweats, and his favorite red East High basketball t-shirt he got from the student store. I also grabbed the recent item he left at my house: his white East High gym hoodie.

I dressed myself and looked in the mirror. Without my face, my hair, and my skin color, I could have looked like him myself. It was all his clothes, all him.

I climbed onto my bed and checked the time on my cell. The time was blocked by the screen showing the number of missed calls I had. I flipped my phone and saw I had 23 missed calls and three voicemails. I looked over at the missed calls. It was everyone but him. I listened to my voicemail; it was just Taylor, Sharpay, and Ryan. He didn't call me.

I threw my phone onto my nightstand once I saw it was only 12:15. School didn't end until 2:30 but I knew he had to stay for basketball practice which ends at seven. As his past girlfriend, I memorized his school schedule, his afterschool schedule, and his weekend schedule. It helped when we wanted to spend time together, but now it was all useless. It's not like I could use the free time that he had and go over to his house to talk to him.

I doubted he'd even wanted to talk to me. I'd bet he would be ranting on how pathetic I was for breaking up with him. He'd maybe even talk about how I was losing the best thing that has ever happened to me. Thank you Captain Obvious for reminding me of my heartache.

I hated him for tangling me in his life. I hated him for having me being wrapped around his finger, so he could control me however he wanted including my feelings. I hated him for proving that he could be different, different from the guys I had dated. I hated that I had loved him. He could go screw himself… as long as I could go with him.

God damn it.

I looked at the clock again. 12:37. Great, they say time goes fast. It's going as slow as possible for me so I could drown myself in sadness. God, I hate the time fairy.

Whenever he came to sleep over, his arm would wrap around my waist. I would turn around on the bed and try to look at his blue eyes in the dark. It's hard but soon the moon would shine on us; that's when I would see them. The sparkling ceruleans gleamed happily. He smiled with his eyes and asked me if I was staring at his eyes again. I would nod yes and he'd kiss me. I would snuggle against him and smell his white t-shirt that he always wore underneath his clothes. It smelled just like him. I smelled his clothes. Sniff sniff. Wait a second… I sniffed again. The scent isn't there anymore. Where is the freaking scent?!

I grabbed the stuffed tiger he won me at the county fair last month. I named him Tiggie, reminding me of Pooh's best friend Tigger. Tigger sounded too mature but Tiggie made it sound more kiddish. I'm still a kid, you know.

I smelled Tiggie; he was supposed to have his scent too. He would always put him in the middle so we could snuggle it together, him knowing that I can't sleep without Tiggie in my arms.

His smell. It was all gone. The scent that I thought I could still smell when he wasn't around was gone. All gone. How was I supposed to remember him if his scent was gone? Of course there were pictures still on my nightstand of me and him together but it didn't have his scent; it had his smile. His smile wasn't enough. I needed him, I realized. It didn't matter what other people had said. I definitely needed him the most; without him, I didn't know if I could go on.

I looked at the clock again just to make sure it was some time that I could go over to his house. It was now 1:12. School was still in session and I didn't feel like going back to school to face my friends again. I knew they're still curious about the breakup and why but it wasn't time to answer questions. There were still a few hours until he'd be back home. I had some things to say to him.

I looked at the box I was carrying. It was everything that used to belong to him: his clothes I slept in, Tiggie the stuffed tiger, and some other stuff I felt he needed. I was back into the clothes I wore this morning. It would be really weird if I appeared at his house with his clothes on my body. I hesitated, thinking through if this was the right thing to do. Doesn't he hate me? Would he yell at me if he saw me standing on his porch? Before I finished thinking, I found my finger pressing onto the doorbell and then a sound of a bell ringing inside the Bolton residence. I waited for someone to open the door but nobody opened. After waiting for what seemed to be an hour, I gave up and stepped down the porch. I heard the door click and turned around. There he was, standing in his Greek god form. He was handsome, as always, but his face… it looked different. For the worse but he was always beautiful as ever.

"Gabriella?" he said softly. My legs went numb from the sound of his voice. I felt my mouth open but nothing came out. I was scared to death on what he would say. I stepped back onto the porch, five feet away from him. If I took two more steps, I could put my hand on his cheek, telling him not to be sad about me. I wasn't worth it. He deserved better. My hands were full so that was crossed off my list of what to do next. He looked at the box. "What's this?" I looked at the box too. Should I do it?

Yes I'm going to do it. No matter what.

"Here," I gave him the box, "this is all your stuff that you gave to me. You either get your smell on it or I can't sleep tonight."

"What?"

"Your scent. It follows me around. I can't take it. But I want it. It's like an addiction. So just get your scent on it or I'll go crazy." He looked confused. I know, I was confused too. I didn't get why I would go crazy over him. I don't get why I wanted his scent so bad.

"Umm… what do you want me to do with it again?" he asked me. I rolled my eyes. Do I have to embarrass myself again?

"What do you not get?"

"This." He shook the box. "Why do you want my scent so bad?"

"Because…" I breathed deeply. "I still love you."

A/N: Hah! I left it there, so you'll want more. Hehe, love it & review it ! Too bad this is a one shot (:

--Carol