Disclaimer: I own neither Lizzie McGuire nor (sadly) Gordo, but if Adam
Lamberg goes up for sale, let me know J. Also, I don't own the song, which
is "The Book" by Sheryl Crow. Great song, though; I wish I could take all
the credit for it but I can't.
Summary: After Gordo comes back from vacation, he reflects on his relationship with Lizzie and Miranda. Gordo's POV; the first chapter is more of a narrative than a story. The kids are sixteen and it's the summer before their junior year.
Dear Diana
I ambled, alone, on the street a block away from my house, feeling the night air wash over my skin as if trying to cleanse me. Alone, being the operative word. What a way to come back from vacation. No "welcome home" call from Lizzie. Nothing from Lizzie, in fact. An ecstatic welcoming from Miranda, as much as I appreciated it, could not replace her. Nothing can.
The thought stopped me in my tracks. I knew that since this, well, whatever it was with Lizzie and I, Miranda had fallen by the wayside. I've tried to convince myself that Miranda is just as important to me, but she knows. She understands. That's the kind of the person she always was.
The distant barking of a neighborhood dog breaks the silence of my own thoughts, and I realize how long I've been walking (or wandering aimlessly, depending on how you look at it). I must be crazy to be out here by myself this late. I look up at the moon, full and in all her pregnant glory. I've always harboured this ridiculous sentimentality about the moon which, in the interest of keeping face, I've kept to myself. I can almost see Diana, the ancient Roman lunar goddess herself, in the face of that moon, flexing her bow and casting a disapproving eye upon my extremely male figure.
"Feministic bitch," I think to myself, enjoying the wonderful twist of irony in my gut.
"You must be out of your mind, Gordon," a voice, (mine, perhaps Diana's? I can't be sure), scolds inside my head. Out of my mind, indeed, considering the fact that I had the affections of this wonderful girl staring me in the face, which I've ignored for the past several years. I remember that sunset on the balcony in Rome two years ago. I sink into the memories of that kiss, no, the kiss; the feel of her soft, strawberry-flavored lips on my own, clumsy mouth, the soft brush of her cheek, everything about her whisking me away from the harshness of reality. I remember that intent look in her eyes as she said my name softly, as her lovely face neared mine.
God, that look. She had taken a step then, a step that probably should have been taken a long time beforehand. It should have solidified the inevitable. Afterwards, however, I held back from her. I was always holding back. That's me, good old shy, reliable, ever-rationalizing Gordo, always afraid to take that next step.
A song from Sheryl Crow, which Lizzie always insisted on playing, drifted into my head...
Three days in Rome...And I stand alone...I always remember...Three days in Rome...
I know Lizzie is angry and hurt by what had happened a few weeks ago, before my departure to New York. As always, Lizzie had wanted to take that next step in order to change things. She told me, while we were alone at her parents' house, that she wanted us to make love, a request in which I might have jumped at the chance to fullfill before. Mind you, she was slightly intoxicated at the time, but in every way that counted, she meant what she said. She willingly gave herself to me, but oh no, good, rational Gordo didn't want to take advantage of her impaired state. I'd turned her down, tried to explain, fully knowing I was making the right decision. But she had been angry nonetheless, refusing even to bid me farewell before I left for two weeks. Can't say I blame her. I've done this our whole lives, you know. Circling around our feelings for each other all through eighth grade, then gently pushing her away over the course of the next two years. Now, it was the summer before our junior year, with no progress as far as I was concerned.
I had to do something. I was tired of being sensible and trustworthy.
Three days in Rome...where do we go...from here?
At the moment, I'm not worried anymore about ruining a delicately built friendship. The only thing I want right now, is Elizabeth McGuire.
I look up in order to change my direction, but I realized with alarm I had already been heading away from my house and toward Lizzie's. I lifted my head toward the moon again.
"This was your doing, wasn't it?" I thought, almost accusatorily. In my mind's eye, she just smirks back at me like the Mona Lisa. I know she's glad I'm finally wising up. Sometimes Fate has a funny way of lending you a hand when you're willing to accept it.
I take a deep breath and embark on the rest of the journey to the home of my best friend, and the only girl I've ever loved.
Yes, the best friend I've ever had.
*~*~*
So, what'd you guys think? Should I continue? Feedback, feedback!!! This is my first stab at fanfic, so be gentle.
If I continue, the next chapter will probably be from Lizzie's POV, and I'll alternate. But I'll take suggestions you all have.
Summary: After Gordo comes back from vacation, he reflects on his relationship with Lizzie and Miranda. Gordo's POV; the first chapter is more of a narrative than a story. The kids are sixteen and it's the summer before their junior year.
Dear Diana
I ambled, alone, on the street a block away from my house, feeling the night air wash over my skin as if trying to cleanse me. Alone, being the operative word. What a way to come back from vacation. No "welcome home" call from Lizzie. Nothing from Lizzie, in fact. An ecstatic welcoming from Miranda, as much as I appreciated it, could not replace her. Nothing can.
The thought stopped me in my tracks. I knew that since this, well, whatever it was with Lizzie and I, Miranda had fallen by the wayside. I've tried to convince myself that Miranda is just as important to me, but she knows. She understands. That's the kind of the person she always was.
The distant barking of a neighborhood dog breaks the silence of my own thoughts, and I realize how long I've been walking (or wandering aimlessly, depending on how you look at it). I must be crazy to be out here by myself this late. I look up at the moon, full and in all her pregnant glory. I've always harboured this ridiculous sentimentality about the moon which, in the interest of keeping face, I've kept to myself. I can almost see Diana, the ancient Roman lunar goddess herself, in the face of that moon, flexing her bow and casting a disapproving eye upon my extremely male figure.
"Feministic bitch," I think to myself, enjoying the wonderful twist of irony in my gut.
"You must be out of your mind, Gordon," a voice, (mine, perhaps Diana's? I can't be sure), scolds inside my head. Out of my mind, indeed, considering the fact that I had the affections of this wonderful girl staring me in the face, which I've ignored for the past several years. I remember that sunset on the balcony in Rome two years ago. I sink into the memories of that kiss, no, the kiss; the feel of her soft, strawberry-flavored lips on my own, clumsy mouth, the soft brush of her cheek, everything about her whisking me away from the harshness of reality. I remember that intent look in her eyes as she said my name softly, as her lovely face neared mine.
God, that look. She had taken a step then, a step that probably should have been taken a long time beforehand. It should have solidified the inevitable. Afterwards, however, I held back from her. I was always holding back. That's me, good old shy, reliable, ever-rationalizing Gordo, always afraid to take that next step.
A song from Sheryl Crow, which Lizzie always insisted on playing, drifted into my head...
Three days in Rome...And I stand alone...I always remember...Three days in Rome...
I know Lizzie is angry and hurt by what had happened a few weeks ago, before my departure to New York. As always, Lizzie had wanted to take that next step in order to change things. She told me, while we were alone at her parents' house, that she wanted us to make love, a request in which I might have jumped at the chance to fullfill before. Mind you, she was slightly intoxicated at the time, but in every way that counted, she meant what she said. She willingly gave herself to me, but oh no, good, rational Gordo didn't want to take advantage of her impaired state. I'd turned her down, tried to explain, fully knowing I was making the right decision. But she had been angry nonetheless, refusing even to bid me farewell before I left for two weeks. Can't say I blame her. I've done this our whole lives, you know. Circling around our feelings for each other all through eighth grade, then gently pushing her away over the course of the next two years. Now, it was the summer before our junior year, with no progress as far as I was concerned.
I had to do something. I was tired of being sensible and trustworthy.
Three days in Rome...where do we go...from here?
At the moment, I'm not worried anymore about ruining a delicately built friendship. The only thing I want right now, is Elizabeth McGuire.
I look up in order to change my direction, but I realized with alarm I had already been heading away from my house and toward Lizzie's. I lifted my head toward the moon again.
"This was your doing, wasn't it?" I thought, almost accusatorily. In my mind's eye, she just smirks back at me like the Mona Lisa. I know she's glad I'm finally wising up. Sometimes Fate has a funny way of lending you a hand when you're willing to accept it.
I take a deep breath and embark on the rest of the journey to the home of my best friend, and the only girl I've ever loved.
Yes, the best friend I've ever had.
*~*~*
So, what'd you guys think? Should I continue? Feedback, feedback!!! This is my first stab at fanfic, so be gentle.
If I continue, the next chapter will probably be from Lizzie's POV, and I'll alternate. But I'll take suggestions you all have.