By the way, there is going to be a lot of drinking and sexual suggestiveness in this story. Heck, it's all based on what happens when you lose your inhibitions and say what you truly mean. But I want to make it perfectly clear that, although I am old enough to legally drink, I do not approve of underage drinking. But, my brother is a senior in high school, and he assures me that every time he goes out in town to hang with his friends, there's someone with some type of alcoholic beverage. And he goes to a Christian high school. So to deny it's out there among kids this age is too naive. And I'm not trying to make Gordo and Lizzie seem like alcoholics, but it's all too common for kids having a good time to get drunk, especially when there are lots of parties.
This chapter is a bit short, but it says exactly what I wanted it to say before chapter three.
To the reviewers:
swim6516- How did you know my ultimate nightmare was a slow, painful death at the hands of a spork?
Georgie- Thank you so much! This review made my day! Probably tomorrow's day too!
Toxikchic9- You know, that's one of the ways I imagined this story happening, but I'm still tossing ideas around. I guess you'll just have to wait it out!
Ladyravan99- May your day proceed with fineness as well! :)
And now, on with our show.
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Gordo turned off all the lights in the McGuire house, and double checked that the back door was locked. Against his better judgment, he found himself back upstairs in front of Lizzie's bedroom door. He opened it slowly, silently. The light from the hall glowed in on Lizzie's carpet, illuminating the room just enough for Gordo to see Lizzie resting peacefully in her bed. He sighed to himself as he walked to her bedside, and crouched in front of her face.
"You don't know what you do to me, McGuire," Gordo said quietly, brushing a stray hair out of her face. Lizzie let out a small sigh as she clutched her covers closer. Gordo placed a small kiss on her forehead before walking back out the door, closing it after a glance over his shoulder.
The silence was ringing in his ears as Gordo started the drive back to his own house. He flicked on the radio, scanning the stations for a song. He finally stopped on his favorite station. As he sat at a red light, the familiar tunes of an old Eve 6 song drifted out of his speakers.
So denied so I lied are you the now or never kind
In a day and a day love I'm gonna be gone for good again
Are you willing to be had are you cool with just tonight
Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well
"How appropriate," Gordo said to himself, pushing the gas pedal to the floor as the light turned green. He hummed along with the chorus.
Here's to the nights we felt alive
Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry
Here's to godbye tomorrow's gonna come to soon
As the next verse played on, Gordo listened closely to the words, singing along every few words, digesting the meaning of the lyrics.
Put your name on the line along with place and time
Wanna stay not to go I wanna ditch the logical
Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well
All my time is froze in motion
Can't I stay an hour or two or more
Don't let me let you go
Gordo pulled into his driveway and turned off his lights. The rest of the song played on, and he sat motionless, staring at the basketball hoop over his garage door. The last notes of the song faded into the next tune, and Gordo turned the ignition off. He quietly entered his house and tiptoed up the stairs to his room. He sighed as he shut his bedroom door silently behind him. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes for a moment. He reopened his eyes and looked around the room.
"My sanctuary," he said to himself as he tossed his keys on his dresser.
Gordo turned on his stereo with the volume on low, his favorite Beatles CD playing in the speakers. He sank onto his bed with a sigh and kicked off his shoes. He pulled his shirt over his head, the smell of cigarette smoke, after shave, and a combination of other scents mingling on the fabric. His nose briefly caught a whiff of Lizzie's perfume as he quickly tossed the shirt into a corner. He flopped back onto his comforter, one hand on his bare chest, the other behind his head. He lay still for a moment, as the voices of John, Paul, George and Ringo surrounded him.
Love, Love me do
You know I love you
I'll always be true
So please
Love me do
Gordo sat up with a grin on his face and flicked off his stereo.
"Why is it that every song reminds me of Lizzie?" he mumbled, shaking his head as he unfastened his belt and took off his jeans. He walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower. He brushed his teeth as the steam enveloped him and fogged the mirror. Sliding his orange and blue plaid boxers down his hips, he stepped gingerly into the scalding water.
Gordo tilted his head to the ceiling, rejoicing in the feeling of the hot water cascading over his body, loosening every tense muscle in his body. He grabbed the bar of soap off the edge of the tub and worked up a lather.
The scent of the party flowed off his body with each motion of his hand. He focused on the drain, watching the fun of the night flow down his legs in bubbles and gather at the opening of the pipes as he washed the past off his body.
Scrub. He remembered the group of kids on the back deck passing a joint around, leaving a cloud of smoke for people to walk through when accessing the back yard.
Scrub. He remembered with a grin beating Ethan at two of three games of pool.
Scrub. He recalled the strange scene that took place between Lizzie and Kate on the couch.
Scrub. He blissfully recalled dancing with Lizzie, the two of them laughing and talking as their feet moved to the beat of the music.
Scrub, scrub. He remembered holding her gently as they danced close to a slow song. Scrub. He could still feel the way her head fit perfectly into the crook of his neck. Scrub. He could still smell her shampoo as he buried his face in her hair. Scrub. He could still feel the way she fit in her arms so perfectly, as if they had been molded to fit each other.
He remembered the scene that happened in her bedroom. The way he heart soared when she said she loved him. Scrub. The sparks he felt as her lips connected with his. Scrub. The pain that tugged at his heart as he denied her. Scrub, scrub, scrub.
"Ow!" Gordo yelped as he snapped out of his memory. He looked at the part of his arm that was red and raw from his harsh scrubbing. Mentally scolding himself, he rinsed and turned off the shower.
Wrapping a fluffy blue towel around his waste, Gordo shook the water out of his hair and attempted to run his fingers through it unsuccessfully. Dropping his towel in the same corner as his shirt, he opened his dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of gray flannel pajama pants. As he pulled on the pants, he noticed his journal lying on his bedside stand, unmoved from where he had discarded it last week. Picking it up, he searched through a drawer for a pen. Pulling the cap off with his mouth and spitting the top across the room, he flipped to the next blank page and dated it.
Another weekend, another party. And that, of course, means another incident with Lizzie. I swear I've lost count of how many times she has drunkenly begged me to spend the night with her. At first I thought it was just the alcohol talking, but the more common it becomes, the more my mind tells me that there's something about our relationship that she's hiding. For once, I just wish she would be sober when we have these incidents. It's getting increasingly harder to say no to her. At first there was nothing more than words. Then one night when she tried to kiss me, I just let her. Briefly. And the next time, I let her again. And again, and again. I don't want it to go any further, but I can't deny her. I'm afraid if it doesn't stop soon, one night I won't be able to stay in check. How many more nights like tonight until I sleep with her, and leave her to forget it all in the morning? That's absolutely the last thing I want, to submit to Lizzie, then for her to wake up sober with our friendship so drastically altered. But it bothers me a bit that Lizzie is clueless as to her actions when she's drunk. I worry about her when she leaves this fall, when I'm not there to make sure she makes it home safely. The was she can't ever remember what happens when she's drunk, as soon as some guy finds that out, they'll take advantage of her. But it's out of my hands; I'll just have to trust her to control herself. What am I saying; I sound more like her parent than her best friend. Regardless, I'd give anything to hear her say those words to me in the morning.
Gordo closed his journal and placed it inside the drawer of his bedside table. Flipping off the lamp, he pulled his covers around his chin and fell into a restless sleep.
