DONT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE READ GG3!! i just put that up there in case u didnt get it in the summary. this is my GG4. the title isnt really like if shes debating whether or not to be a spy anymore, i just wanted something clever. anyways, enjoyy!! :D
o ya, and i wrote some stuff about the way brits dress, but theyre probably not very accurate. i just hear that brits are prudes and stuff (which i doubt, cuz i luvv brits).
"Mmm," I breathed in the crisp, winter air. It wasn't so much different than spending time at the Morgan's farm. Well, except for the fluctuating and unpredictable temperatures. Right now, it was warm, which I was very thankful for. "This is great, Bex. Thanks again for the invite." I looked at my beautiful friend, who was looking up at the sky and smiling.
"No prob, Cam," she simply replied.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," someone said in a thick English accent seconds after bumping my shoulder. I snapped my head around to look at the man.
"Wait!" I shouted, using the same British accent. The man turned around and stopped, giving me a chance to clearly look at him. I sighed, "I'm sorry, I mistook you for someone else."
"Quite all right, ma'am," he hurried, tipping his hat, and scurrying away. My eyes fell to the ground in dejection. Not Zach I thought. I had spent approximately an average of 3 hours and 7 minutes daily searching crowds for that familiar face. But, as usual, no luck.
"Come in, dears," Mrs. Baxter called. "It's time for supper." Bex's mom was so beautiful, even more gorgeous than Bex (which is saying something, considering the intensity of Bex's good looks), and her father was the same (I've never actually met the man in person, but pictures are worth a thousand words, right?). He was away on a mission at the time though, so I didn't mention him much.
"I hope you like Lancashire Hotpot, Cammie," Bex's mother smiled.
"I love it," I smiled back, even though I have never had it before. But I've had more than enough practice faking meals I don't like. Fortunately, I didn't need to. "This is amazing!" I exclaimed after taking the first bite.
"I'm glad you like it, dear," she replied happily. "Rebecca has no taste for it." I looked over at my friend, giving her a "How can you not like this?!" look.
She shrugged. "Gets boring after a bit." We ate the rest of our dinner peacefully, and once we were done, Bex and I went upstairs to "talk".
"You got your comms unit?" Bex asked me as she slipped on a very conservative skirt. Apparently, Brits don't take it so well when you wear something that doesn't cover the top three-quarters of your thigh.
"Yup," I answered, placing it in my ear. "All set." Bex quickly looked over me.
She shook her head. "You are so lucky we are in London, Cammie. You'll get the best clothes for the rest of the year." Something I also learned was even though you can't wear short things in London, you can buy trunk-loads of it.
"Let's just go," I said, rolling my eyes. I just knew Bex was going to buy me things that I could never pull off. We walked out onto the balcony -yes, Bex has her own balcony- and took out a grappling hook. After I put on my gloves, I clipped the hook onto the railing, and slid down. Once Bex was also off, I took off the rope, and placed it back in the purse. It was so good for spies that huge bags were in.
"That's a really cute bag, Cammie," Bex complimented.
"Thanks," I replied quickly. "Now come on, I don't want your mom to find out we snuck out."
Bex rolled her eyes. "Relax, it'll be fine. She'll probably even tell you one of her 'Back in my day' stories." I let out a small giggle.
Once we got to the mall, Bex and I straightened up our hair, touched up our make-up, etcetera, etcetera. We entered this cute store, "Skirts, Skirts, Skirts". Wow I thought. How original.
"Bex," I whined as she dragged me into a dressing room, throwing different skirts into it for me to try on. Very, very short skirts, might I add.
"Just try them on, Cammie," she begged. "Please?" she asked, dragging out the word. I could just tell she had her puppy-dog eyes out, even though I couldn't see them.
I sighed. "Fine," I mumbled, putting on a random skirt. I was so glad I shaved my legs. I stepped out of the booth. "Happy?" I asked, twirling around. Bex's eyes bulged out. I looked down. I had (by no intention, mind you) picked out the shortest skirt she had gave me, the fabric just reaching beneath my butt. I gave a small shriek and headed back into the dressing room.
But Bex caught my arm, with that darn vice grip of hers, and told me, "That skirt looks incredible on you," still dumbfounded.
"Well, I'm gonna go take it off now," I said rapidly, trying to break her grip and put back on my bermuda shorts.
"Oh no you're not," Bex breathed, still looking at my exposed legs. Then she brought her eyes up to mine. "You're going to wear that," -she paused for suspense- "Until we go home." I could feel my eyes get slightly larger. "Oh yes, that means all around the mall."
"Bex," I began, planning on saying something to change her mind. But Bex just continued as if I hadn't said a thing. She dragged me up to the register and said sweetly, "I'd like to purchase this skirt." The clerk, a guy, looked down at my skirt, and even his eyes bugged out. It's probably a guy's dream job, working in a store where girls come in and buy tiny little skirts. I never thought that someone (more specifically, a male) would acutally like looking at my legs. I mean, I guess having intense training every day gives a girl really nice legs.
"Here's your change," he stuttered, handing Bex her money.
"Thanks," she said in that same, sweet tone. "Bye," she said, blowing him a kiss. The poor guy looked as if he were going to pass out.
I just chuckled, "Nice."
"What?" she asked innocently.
"Well, you probably gave that guy back there a heart attack with that little, 'Thanks'," I re-enacted, using the same tone and blowing an overdramatic kiss.
Bex giggled, and countered, "You did the same thing, only you just stood there in that little thing."
"Whatever." We walked on, glancing into stores, and occasionally going in. After an hour of walking, we decided to sit down on a bench, to rest. I sat down, trying to pull down my skirt so it would at least cover something, but it refused. Finally, I just put a bag over my lap.
"I don't see why you won't show off your bod, Cam. It's not like you're fat," Bex said, eyeing the bag.
"I know, it's just," I thought for an appropriate word. "Uncomfortable."
Bex raised her eyebrow. "Uncomfortable? How?"
"Well, when you're a pavement artist, you don't get a lot of looks. And when you wear something like this," I pointed to my skirt," You get looks."
Bex nodded, taking this in. "Oh, well, I can see the dilemma. But your dad was a pavement artist, too, right? And he was hot, so he must've gotten a few looks..." she kept talking, but I wasn't listening anymore. I was too focused on the guy across from me. He was talking to another man, who seemed very wise. The man I was looking at had sleek, black hair, and was wearing purple skinny jeans, and had an earring. He seemed like a punk-emo kind of guy, but when I took all that off, I recognized him.
"Zach," I whispered. Bex hadn't heard me, and was still prattling on. "I'm going to go to the bathroom, 'Kay?" I asked, but I left before she could say anything. I looked back at her, to see if she was following me, but she was busy flirting with some guy. I exhaled in relief. I twisted a pathway to him, taking him by surprise when I yanked him into the Girls' restroom and pushed him against the wall, twisting him so I had his arm against his back. We were in the same position we were in that long year ago.
"Why are you here, Zach?" I asked him. Don't get me wrong, I was glad he was here, but I wanted to know if he was here for me, or for something else.
"Nice to see you, too, Gallagher Girl," he said, his tone implying he was very uncomfortable.
I twisted his arm harder, causing him to hiss in pain. "I want answers, Zach. And I want them now." Zach took a deep breath, and somehow managed to break my hold on him. He made it so my back was against the wall, and he had his hands around my wrists, holding them to the wall.
"I learned how to get out of that situation after you did that to me a year ago," he smirked at my surprised expression. "Nice skirt, by the way." He smirked again when I blushed.
"Zach," I whispered, looking into his eyes and begging for him to tell me something. Anything.
He held both of my arms in only one of his, and used his now free hand to cradle my face. "I'm sorry," he breathed. He let go of me, and backed away, giving me a regretful look. As he turned away, I jumped on his back, and brought him back down to the ground, straddling him.
"I'm not letting you go that easily."
Zach seemed really frustrated now. He groaned, "Why do you have to be so difficult?"
"Why won't you tell me anything?" I fired back.
"I can't, Cammie. Just please," he begged, looking directly into my eyes. "Trust me."
After 4 minutes and 39 seconds, I finally decided to let him up. I stood in a corner, and looked down at the ground. I didn't want to watch him go.
Zach came up to me, and lifted my chin so I was looking at him. There it was again, that look in his eyes. The one that screamed, "I want to kiss you!". I took the cloth of his shirt, bringing him near me. I know he could've walked easily removed my hand, and walk away, but he didn't. And that made me so glad. I guess he decided to give into his heart, because he kissed me on the lips, slowly separating mine with his own. His tongue slid across my lower lip, and I shivered with delight in response. He pulled away and whispered in my ear, "I really do like that skirt." And with that, he walked away. I watched him, bearing through the pain.
"We have a lot of talking to do," Bex's voice cut the silence. She stood in the doorway, swinging her comms unit in her fingers.