A/N: Disney owns the characters and the backdrop. I only own the angst. So there. Also, I wrote this a while ago. Then I lost it, rewrote it, hated (and tossed) the rewrite, and then found this again just recently. Short story long, sometimes you find something only when you stop looking. Not unlike the moral of the story below. -JN
TV on? Check.
Stereo on? Check.
Computer playing every MP3 I've ever um…."acquired legally at the time"? Check.
Scene of Lizzie kissing Ronnie still playing over and over in my head? Unfortunately, that is also a check.
This is just another time where having an overactive brain is more of curse than a blessing. No matter how much noise I'm making its just not enough to distract me from I just saw.
The only consolation is that she didn't see me standing there like a total moron, holding the CD that I had made her, which is laced, laced I tell you with very suggestive songs about how I feel about her. My big plan was to give it to her casually, then not bring it up and hope that she got the theme of the CD.
Maybe she would get the obvious hint that I cared for her more than as a friend.
Maybe she would feel the same way.
Maybe my timing really, really sucks.
Now I'm sitting here at the foot of my bed, said CD in my half-opened hands never to be listened to by its intended recipient. The weirdest thing is that just two hours ago I was sitting in this exact spot feeling so optimistic about everything. I had less electronics on at the time, of course. Only the stereo was on playing this stupid CD for the millionth time to make sure there was no skips. I didn't want to call ahead, that might've drawn too much attention to the whole thing.
I didn't really have a good explanation for why I wouldn't be able to stay. I was just going to think of something lame like having to go to the library so that she wouldn't try to call me on. I mean I couldn't think that far ahead. Surprising, considering that thinking far ahead is what got me in this mess in the first place. I'm so upside down now that I'd need a calculator to do simple addition.
I fall back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My chest begins to tingle a bit and I know it's just a matter of time. I've gone through the shock phase, and skipped denial. You can't deny something you just experienced with your own eyes. There is no way that kiss was accidental. None. She was moving in as fast if not faster than he was. Its exactly as I had pictured it would be between me and her like a thousand times. The point is, not accidental, and more importantly it wasn't me.
I think the acceptance phase is when your heart catches up to your head, and both realize the exact same thing.
She chose him, not me. She didn't even consider me as an option. I don't think she ever has, or ever would have.
What few muscles I have in my chest are starting to constrict. I think I'm going to implode. I'm trying so hard to keep it together, to not be some drama queen about this. But the harder I hold on the more intense the scene replays in my head, and the more anxious I become.
Finally, a tear moves down the side of my face, hits my ear, and falls on my bed.
"Hey", a voice and a knock ring out from the direction of the door. I bolt upright to my original sitting position causing the CD that was in my hands to fly across the floor and wind up under my desk. Again the thing with the timing? The time I most want to have this rare meltdown, that's when somebody barges into my room.
Miranda is standing in my doorway looking, um; I don't know how to describe it. Frustrated?
"I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill Lizzie!" she exasperates, closing the door behind her.
Nope, try homicidal. I'm always understating the Miranda.
"Why? What happened?" Like I need to ask. Its about Ronnie, this guy has just been ruining lives left and right since he fell out of the sky. Granted it's mostly because Lizzie won't shut up about him. It's even more surprising since there can't that much to say about him. He's like Ethan Craft but from a different zip code.
"You would not believe what Lizzie said to me!" she says carelessly throwing her bag down on the ground.
"You guys aren't still having the debate about which guy from N'Sync is cuter? J.T. or Jesse?" I ask, again knowing it's about Ronnie. But I have to play dumb, if for no other reason to try and calm her down, because she's going to pace a hole through my floor. I'm also using this as an excuse to get up and turn off all the devices trying to get my mind off of the very person Miranda wants to put six feet under.
"Its J.C. and Justin," she says shooting me the classic Sanchez squinty eyes of "stop being such a wiseass, Gordo".
"Whatever" I reply as I hold my hands up in ignorance.
"This Ronnie thing is out of control," she says unfolding her arms only to throw her hands up in the air. I'm still convinced that if I wanted to keep Miranda quiet, all I'd have to do is tie her up so she couldn't move her hands. She says it's a Latina thing that I will never understand. Kind of like how my people don't eat dairy and meat together. I told her that those couldn't be more different. One is a stereotype and the other is a fact of kosher lifestyle.
Miranda's reply? A punch to my arm. I guess we'll agree to disagree on that. Anyway…
"Well obviously. But why kill her when he's clearly the problem," I snark approaching her as I casually throw my arm around over her shoulders. "I say we use a bear trap on Ronnie baited with a piece of candy or maybe just a shiny piece of paper folded into an origami"
"Then?" she asks pretending to be interested.
"Duh, we roll him up in a carpet and throw him off a bridge," I say getting her to smile briefly.
"I'm in," she says extending her hand for me to shake. Which I accept.
"Cool, we can recruit Matt to help us, since anything that makes Lizzie happy is sure to be something he'll hate. I'm sure he'll join our legion of doom," I continue to joke waiting for Miranda to let go of my hand.
Which she's not. She looks down to the floor and I notice her shoulders start to tremble.
This is bad.
She looks up at me as her eyes start to water. "Gordo, am I um….?" She trails off and I notice the room is eerily quiet.
Another understatement, this is really bad.
"Rand?" I whisper as she approaches.
"Gordo, am I…you know…attractive? Like worthy of a boyfriend attractive?" she barely chokes out as she briefly rubs her eye with her free hand.
This is the moment where I'm sure the world is coming to an end, for two reasons.
Reason one: All the talks my dad ever gave me about what to watch out for when having best friends who are girls. Especially the trick questions like "Do you notice anything different about my hair?" or "Does this make me look fat?" We covered all of these traps, except this question. How did he miss this one?
Reason two: Miranda is the one asking this question, not Lizzie. Miranda does not confide in me about anything, like ever. In fact, this may be only the second time she has ever been in my house without Lizzie. Lizzie is the one normally who gets the mushy stuff from her. I'm supposed to be the comic relief in Miranda's life, not the shoulder to cry on.
Speaking of about to cry…
"What?" I ask. This should buy me some time. Because I don't know how to answer it. Don't get me wrong; Miranda is totally worthy of a boyfriend hot. I just can't say it too fast or she's going to think I'm just saying it for the sake of saying it. And that certainly won't make her feel any better.
"Lizzie and I got into some stupid fight, and she said…" she stops and now I know she's going to sob uncontrollably. I pull gently on her hand that is still in mine from the handshake that seems like it happened eight years ago. It's only been two minutes. Miranda buries her head in my chest and I have no choice but to wrap her up in a hug.
While we are pointing out things that almost never happen, when was the last time I hugged Miranda? This isn't the first time right? Right?
"Shhh…," I tried to calm her as well as my own thoughts of how I don't pay near enough attention to my friendship with Miranda. "Take your time, you don't have to tell me all at once," that piece of shrink talk brought to you courtesy of Ma and Pa Gordon.
And Miranda was taking that advice, as she slowly stopped choking up, I can feel her hands on my back searching for more shirt to hold onto, almost as if she'll find comfort if she manages to ball up enough fabric.
She takes a breath. Here it comes.
"I was trying to tell Lizzie that her Ronnie obsession is making her crazy. She said I was just jealous because I didn't have a boyfriend," she blurts out as her head is still buried in my chest.
Whoa.
Did Lizzie say that?
"That was mean," I say matter-of-factly. Miranda chuckles, still trying not to cry and pulls back a little.
"Tell me about it," she says slowly letting go. I reach up to cup her face in my hands. She flinched weirdly for a second, but I don't think anything of it as I wipe off tear lines from her cheeks and under her eyes. "She did try to say she was sorry, but I was a little fed up with her by the time she said it."
"I don't blame you for leaving, although I do think you're a little nuts," I say smiling as her face falls. "Any guy would have to be pretty worthy just to ask you out, not the other way around."
"Really?" she asks, her smile lifting a bit, "and how worthy would they have to be for me to actually go out with them."
"Well, they would have to be a lot better than me," I snark. "And I'm sure I've told you how great I am!" I say with as much fake enthusiasm as I can. I let go of her face say as she laughs, this time without a trace of wanting to cry.
I feel her left hand move slowly towards my face, and she pulls me in close to kiss me on the opposite cheek, just to the side of my mouth.
"Thanks Gordo, you're the best," she whispers as she withdraws slowly but not completely away.
The lack of space between us, the deep staring into each other's eyes, the breathing getting heavier and louder with each passing moment.
I know this moment. I've been in it once with Brook Baker and about a thousand other times with Lizzie in my head. Any minute now we're going to close this distance and well….kiss.
As slow as our faces are nearing each other's, my brain is going about a million miles an hour. This doesn't make sense, for either of us. I'm Gordo, your other best friend. Just yesterday you tried to call me out about my feelings for Lizzie. No we're about to make out? And why am I not trying to stop this? If this is so wrong, why do I still want to go through with it?
My eyes are closed as I feel her breath on my lips.
"David!" my mom's voice wails from just beyond the door. Miranda and I practically jump apart and start fidgeting nervously as my Mom enters the room. I shove one hand into my jeans pocket and scratch the back of my head. Miranda is trying to decide whether to keep her arms folded or smooth out her shirt a thousand times.
My mom takes a look at us, both blushing furiously, sweating for no reason, and very silent all of a sudden. She knows what's going on, at least a little, and my only saving grace was that the door was open.
"Miranda, would you like to join us for dinner tonight?" my mom asks her.
"N-no thanks Dr. G, I've got like a ton of homework to do," she's already making her way out the door, but turns at the last minute. "So I'll call you later about the math homework, kay Gordo?" Yeah, math homework, like that'll get done tonight.
"Cool, that'll work," Miranda's already gone by the time I say "cool".
My mom gives me one last look before she leaves my room. The patented "You got some explainin' to do, son". If this becomes dinner conversation with Dad tonight, I'm just going to ask to be grounded up front. I'm not going through the birds and bees lecture with the Drs. Gordon again. No kid should have to go through that. Not even once.
I sit back down at the foot of my bed. My hands are shaking and my heart is racing. Seriously, what the hell just happened here?
Remember how I said I skipped denial before? Because you can't deny something you just experienced?
Well, I don't care if I sound like I'm eight years old. Its my rule and I can ignore it if I want.
I deny that maybe, just maybe, I've been looking at the wrong girl for the longest time.
FIN