Disclaimer: I don't own anything…

A/N: This chapter is a little "check-in" of sorts on what Paul's up to back in Florida. (Thoughts are in italics…) In the next chapter, Lizzy, Jude and Lucy will be in Liverpool!

Also, please check out AllYouNeedIsLove3's new ATU fanfic, 'Paperback Writer'. He's always a faithful reader and reviewer of 'Dizzy Miss Lizzy', so please show him some love, too! I know ATU readers and writers are a supportive bunch of people, so that shouldn't be a problem…lol.

And now, onto chapter 36--Enjoy! Please review!

Paul hadn't been expecting a letter from Lizzy so soon. Needless to say, he was surprised to find a letter addressed to him in her neat script in his apartment mailbox less than four days after he had sent his last message to her. It was a nice thing to find, especially mixed in with all of the bills and such, which his mother wouldn't be too happy to see, either. Although her new job paid better money than her other one did, it was still difficult sometimes to make ends meet. Paul had tried to convince his mother into taking the earnings from his job to help pay for the everyday living expenses, but she wouldn't hear of it. She knew he needed it to pay for tuition and any other fees that were necessary for his education at the community college he was going to attend in the fall.

If there was one thing that Mrs. Rigby wanted for her son that she hadn't had, it was a good education. He'd already surpassed her in that area, simply because he had finished high school--another thing she hadn't done. Paul had put up a big protest about going to college, much to his mother's displeasure. He had, of course, sent in the applications and got accepted to a few of them. However, once it was time to send in the deposit to his final choice--the one they could actually somewhat afford, with the financial aid they had received--he decided that maybe college wasn't the best path for him to be on.

"I can keep working, earn some money," Paul had argued. "I could always take a few classes later on…"

"Don't be ridiculous, Paul," his mother had replied, shaking her head, "You're going to school."

"You work too hard, Mom," Paul sighed. "I just want to help you out a bit."

Sally smiled, ruffling her son's hair. "That's very sweet of you, Paulie, but I work hard for a reason--to create the best life I can for you. You don't need to be worrying. Think about yourself for once."

"I don't know…"

"I want you to go somewhere, hon," Mrs. Rigby breathed, looking hopeful. "Be something great. I know you're capable of that; you're a smart kid."

Sally wanted her son to have great opportunities; a chance to get involved in a solid career and move above and beyond where he was now. She knew Paul was destined for bigger and better things--she didn't want him stuck here for the rest of his life, unhappy.

"Who knows," she had said, shrugging, "maybe you'll end up in New York someday."

Paul had let out an audible groan, then. "Mom." Why did she have to bring that up? Just when he was finally getting used to the idea of Lizzy not being in Florida anymore…

Well, okay…maybe not.

But at least he'd gotten past the denial stage.

Entering the silent apartment he and his mother shared, Paul closed the door and walked into the kitchen. He tossed the junk mail--what he considered to be junk, anyway--onto the counter and sunk down into a chair. He tore the envelope open, letting it drop to the floor carelessly by his feet.

The sight of Lizzy's familiar, neat and slightly curvy handwriting brought a smile to his face as he read.

Dear Paul,

I had to get this letter to you ASAP, for two reasons. One, because I have so much to do that I probably won't have time to do it later…and two, because I'm extremely excited. Not even kidding…I'm practically bouncing off the walls I'm so happy.

Now that I've gotten all of the paint out of my hair--weird story; I'll tell you some other time--I can sit down to write this.

Remember how I told you awhile back that my grandmother, Martha Feeny, from Liverpool said that she was going to fly me and my parents over to visit her? Well, it looks like that's going to happen very soon. We just got a letter from her in the mail with the plane tickets, and we're going to be leaving the second week of July.

Which is coming up really fast, so you can probably imagine how much stuff we have to do before we go. It's a good thing my passport hasn't expired yet from that trip I took with the Harrisons to Mexico two years ago…

We're going to be gone for about two weeks; we're gonna stay in my grandmother's house, obviously. Which is cool, because it's my dad's childhood home. My mom and I jokingly asked my dad if he would teach us some of the local slang--who knows, maybe I'll pick up a Liverpudlian accent? Haha. Probably not. I'll see if I can work on it…

Sorry if I'm rambling. But you know that's how I get when something this exciting happens to me. Anyway, once I find out my grandmother's address, I'll send you a postcard. And don't worry, I'll take plenty of pictures! My dad says there are good views on the coast, so you'll probably get some sketches, too.

Well, Paulie, now I have to go pack…not a task that I will enjoy, but whatever.

Miss you lots,

Lizzy XOXO

P.S.--Congrats on your new job, and tell your mom the same. Glad you liked the sketch--yes, surprisingly, I did that from memory. Cool, huh?

Paul laughed, setting the piece of paper onto the kitchen table. He could almost hear Lizzy's voice, rambling about all of this very quickly, with that certain spark she got in her eyes whenever she was excited over something. He was happy for her, knowing that she was going to be doing something that she had been looking forward to for quite some time. And, it was her first vacation with her parents--something the three of them deserved. It was only fitting that they were going to travel to the country of Lizzy's father's birth. Maybe Lizzy would get the chance to learn more about her heritage as well. Paul knew how much she liked that kind of thing, too. So, yes, he was definitely happy for her…

Except…she was going to be even farther away now. It was only for two weeks, but still. He couldn't ignore the fact that Liverpool was a much further distance from Florida than New York was. Instead of being separated by a few states, she was going to be living across an entire ocean for fourteen days.

Get a grip, he told himself forcefully, You're not dating anymore--she's not your girlfriend. What difference does it make? Leave her be.

Paul shook his head, and stood. Lizzy was just going on vacation…that didn't matter. She wasn't going to be in the country for two weeks. So, what? It wasn't like he got to see her anyway. It shouldn't bother him.

Glancing at the clock, Paul decided that it was best to get ready for work. He had the late shift tonight--the dinnertime rush--and his boss wouldn't be happy with him if he was late. Plus, his mother had taken the car to work, and she wouldn't be back before he had to leave, so he didn't have any other choice but to ride his bike. He was pressed for time as it was; he had to hurry his ass up.

After freshening up a bit, Paul got into his work attire. It was a hideous ensemble, in his humble opinion--black dress pants, a white, button-up shirt, and a red bowtie. A bowtie, for crying out loud. Not to mention he had to tuck in his shirt, which was a chore he usually left until the last possible second. Once he was dressed, for whatever reason, he tucked Lizzy's letter into his back pocket for safekeeping before he left the apartment.

"You're cutting it pretty close, Rigby," Paul's manager, Mr. Mustard--what the hell kind of name was that, anyway? Paul had thought--scolded as the teenager burst through the employee entrance, trying to tuck in his shirt. "Better not happen again."

"It won't sir, I promise." Paul muttered, as politely as he could manage. He couldn't help but feel impossibly small under his boss' gaze. He was a large man, with a cold demeanor and a less-than-friendly personality. He also hated his job, which indirectly contributed to everyone else hating their jobs.

Mr. Mustard glared, watching as one of his youngest employees finished tucking in his shirt and started straightening out his tie. He groaned. The kid was a good worker, but he usually got to the restaurant just moments before his shift began, and he always seemed in a rush. He didn't want to fire the kid, because truth be told, he did a lot more around this place than some of the others.

"Quit stallin' and get to work, Rigby." Mr. Mustard snapped.

Paul had barely enough time to mumble a "Yes, sir" before scrambling out into the dining hall to help clear off and re-set tables with the other two busboys. The job was tedious and repetitive, but the main motivation behind it was that he was earning money for each hour he worked. It was several dollars each hour that he hadn't had in his pocket before; he was surprised how quickly it added up.

Three hours had passed by the time Paul took a few moments to glance at a clock. The first rush of dinnertime customers had diminished. Mr. Mustard found him and grudgingly informed him that it was time for his first of two fifteen-minute breaks. Thoroughly overjoyed, the teenager all but bolted to the back room to sit down and relax. Immediately, he plopped into one of the folding chairs that was situated in the corner of the break room, the metal squeaking and groaning under his weight.

Paul leaned back, trying to get in a comfortable position to take a fifteen-minute nap. It was a hard feat to accomplish, especially when he was sitting mostly upright in a very uncomfortable chair. Nevertheless, he let his eyes close and prayed that he could at least drift off for a few minutes…

That request, unfortunately for Paul, fell upon deaf ears. As soon as his eyelids drooped, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes and was met with the one person he least expected.

"Oh…hi, Clara," Blinking, he allowed the form of a young girl--his age--to come into focus. She was hovering over him, her hazel eyes locked on his own green. "I was trying to take a nap, but..." That obviously isn't going to happen. Paul didn't mind all that much, though--being interrupted by Clarabella wasn't so horrible.

"I noticed," Clarabella answered nonchalantly. "and you weren't having much luck with it, either."

Paul sat up straight, attempting to blink the sleepiness out of his eyes. Clarabella flipped her wavy, blond hair over one shoulder so that it was clear of her face and smiled. He knew what she was doing. It was the same thing she had been trying to do ever since he started working at this place. She probably didn't realize--or maybe she did--that he had seen her checking him out on a daily basis. Or, that Paul had noticed every little flirtatious thing she did around him. It was weird to think that someone like her would want to get his attention. It was also odd to have another girl staring at him in that way since he and Lizzy broke up and went back to being friends.

She was attractive, though. He had to give her that. It wasn't something he could really ignore, as hard as he tried. Clarabella was every guy's dream; tall and slender with blond hair, sparkling eyes, and--God help him for thinking this--a nice chest.

So, why was he objecting to every one of her advances?

"Umm…what's up?" Paul asked sheepishly. Wow, that wasn't lame at all.

Clarabella bit her lip. She stared at Paul, a smirk starting to form at the corner of her mouth. "You know, I was thinking…"

"Oh, God." Paul muttered, putting his face in his hands. Luckily, he said it quiet enough so that she wasn't able to catch it. Here it comes…

"I know it's usually the guy who does this, but what the hell? I was wondering if you'd wanna go see a movie or something with me this weekend."

"I'd love to, Clara, I would…but I…can't."

"Why?"

"My mom she has this thing…and I need to…she needs me to…" Paul stumbled over his words, failing miserably at any attempt for an excuse. He wasn't going to find a way out of this. It wasn't like he didn't want to go on a date with Clara; there was just something holding him back…

Clarabella laughed. "You're a horrible liar, Paul."

Paul groaned.

"C'mon. Just…go out with me. Have a little fun. You look like you could use a night out."

"I told you, I can't."

"And you were lying," she reminded him matter-of-factly. "What's really stopping you?"

Paul shrugged. "I dunno."

"You're single, right?"

Paul let his eyes drop to gaze at the floor. He had no idea why, but the piece of paper tucked into his back pocket felt like it had suddenly grown a lot heavier, taunting him and making him feel guilty. Guilty for also looking at Clarabella in that way and possibly contemplating something that was beyond co-worker status.

But why was he feeling so bad about it? Like he had told himself earlier, he and Lizzy weren't together, so what was the hold-up? She wasn't his girlfriend--he was free to date any other girl he found worth dating.

"Yeah," Paul answered at last, "I'm single."

"Then what'd ya say?" Clarabella prompted, hopeful.

"What movie were you thinking about seeing?" he asked, forcing a smile onto his face.

"That's my boy." she smirked, elbowing him excitedly in the arm. He laughed nervously.

Somehow, with Lizzy going to Liverpool and being so far away from him, it made Paul feel even more guilty for going on a date with Clarabella…