Things I'll Never Say
A/N: Hey you guys! It's been a while, and I am SO SORRY for the delay in this chapter, but I have been so busy. Algebra 2 is about killing me, we've been practicing extra in winterguard to get ready for circuit championships this upcoming weekend, plus I have had family issues. I'm hoping that I will be able to get the next chapter out quicker than I got this one out, but I can't make promises; my life is so unpredictable! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, and thanks a billion for being patient with me! Before I let you get to the chapter, I just want to announce that chapter 2 of Old, New, Borrowed, Blue will be up tomorrow or the day after, possibly even today if I can finish it. :) And on a final note, I decided to NOT include the date in this chapter, but instead give you the general idea of what happened using Lizzie's thoughts and bits of dialogue.
Disclaimer: Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrmann.
Chapter Eight:
Miranda and I returned to my house after our double date, which had fallen just short of the honor of being called a disaster. At least, that was my opinion; Miranda thought everything had gone wonderfully, and had even hinted at the possibility of Andrew and me continuing dating. When she had mentioned this, I merely stayed quiet, and Miranda had moved on to another topic, thankfully.
When we walked through my front door with Miranda carrying her overnight bag and her favorite pillow, we found my mom in the living room. Dad was there as well, but he was lying on the couch, asleep, with his head in Mom's lap. Mom was watching some black and white show on TV, but she looked up when she heard us walk in.
"Hey girls," she greeted us in a whisper, presumably so she wouldn't wake up Dad.
"Hey, Mom," I replied at the same time Miranda said, "Hey, Mrs. McGuire." I returned the smile Mom was giving me. "Miranda's sleeping over tonight. Is that okay?" I asked, knowing it would be. Mom loved Miranda like another daughter, just like she loved Gordo like another son.
Suddenly, my mind returned to what--or whom, really--I had been thinking about practically nonstop all night. Gordo. Perhaps that was what had caused my date with Andrew not to be particularly fulfilling. I didn't know. All I knew was that while I was sitting at the table in the restaurant, I would look at Andrew, or think about Andrew, and compare him to Gordo. Well, Andrew's hair is tamer than Gordo's . . . but Gordo's just suits him. Andrew's taller than Gordo . . . but Gordo doesn't tower over me like Andrew does; Gordo's height is just right. Andrew seems to be more muscular than Gordo . . . but Gordo can act, and he has a great singing voice; and it's not like Gordo's scrawny.
It was weird--really weird. I knew I shouldn't have been comparing the two of them for many reasons; for one thing, I had just met Andrew, but I'd known Gordo my whole life, so the comparison wasn't exactly fair to Andrew. I had realized that in the middle of one of my comparisons, but had just kept doing the same throughout our entire date, including while we watched the movie The Ring at Dustin's house when Andrew seemed to be trying too hard to play it cool; Gordo would have been hiding his eyes at the gruesome shots just like I was, but Andrew just held me tighter in his arms. And I didn't like it.
Mom's voice jolted me back to reality. "Lizzie? I said it was okay," she said. Mom's face was holding a worried expression, probably because I had spaced out for a few moments. Miranda was giving me a weird look.
"Oh, thanks, Mom," I returned. Then I faked a yawn, raising my hands over my head to stretch, in an attempt to be excused to my room. Otherwise, Mom would have kept Miranda and me downstairs to talk about our evening. "I guess we better turn in. I'm exhausted." As if to prove my point, I yawned again.
At first, Mom looked confused and she checked her watch. "It's only ten, Lizzie," she said. "But I guess all the fun you had on your date just wore you out. Goodnight, honey."
I nodded and walked across the room to peck her on the cheek. "Night, Mom," I said as I exited the room. Miranda raised her hand in a wave and we practically stampeded up the stairs.
When I shut the door to my room behind me, Miranda settled herself down onto my bed and fixed me with an expectant look. "Spill," she said simply.
I did my best to feign confusion, but I realized that it wasn't working when Miranda's eyes never left my own. With a small sigh, I flopped down onto my bed, belly-first, and buried my face in my comforter. I looked up long enough to state, "There's nothing to talk about, Miranda."
She rolled her eyes. "Right, and you didn't act like a total jerk to Andrew tonight," Miranda snapped, her words loaded with sarcasm. "Lizzie, I know something's going on and if we're best friends, you should be able to talk to me about it!"
At first, I was tongue tied. "I--He . . ." Finally, I took a deep breath. "Andrew is a really nice guy and I'd love to be friends with him, but that's all he'll ever be to me. My friend," I stated simply.
"Your friend?" Miranda asked, astounded. "But I thought you two hit it off so well! I even saw a kiss!" She winked at me.
I sighed. How could I explain my feelings to Miranda without sounded like a complete moron? "I--I just don't like him. When he kissed me, I didn't feel anything, you know? It was like . . . Matt kissing me. I mean, he's cute, and funny, and has a great personality, but . . ." I couldn't find the words to finish what I was trying to say. To tell the truth, I didn't even know what I was trying to say!
Apparently, Miranda did. "But he's not Gordo," she said slyly, grinning at me.
I pretended to be shocked, but deep down I knew that she was right. I had once liked Gordo when we were in junior high and I swore that he liked me back, but nothing had ever come of that and we'd just stayed friends. For the longest time during my high school career, that was what I thought him to be, but some time in the past year, my feelings for him returned to the more than just friends variety. I hadn't admitted that to myself, let alone another person, until that night.
I could feel myself blushing. "Miranda, being totally in love with one of your best friends cannot be a good thing . . . especially when nothing came of it when you were totally in love with him a few years earlier," I complained. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to forget about Gordo and fall deeply in love with Andrew.
"But it would be much worse if the best friend you were in love with was me, wouldn't it?" Miranda asked, her eyes glistening as she tried to add a little humor in to our conversation. I glared at her, telling her I was not amused. "All right, all right!" she exclaimed. "The first step to dating your best friend is admitting that you like him, which I'm so proud to say you've done."
I groaned. Suddenly I had a pounding headache. "Listen, Miranda . . . I know you're just dying to play matchmaker with us, but please stay out of it. Gordo doesn't like me like that and it would be super embarrassing for for all parties involved if he found out I liked him. Please?" I was practically begging.
"Ugh, fine," Miranda said finally. "But when Gordo finally finds someone who will admit that she likes him instead of hiding from her feelings, don't come crying to me about it."
"Fine, I won't!" I snapped, feeling a surge of anger at Miranda rise in me. "Goodnight!" I flipped off the light and climbed under my covers on the right side of the bed while Miranda climbed under the covers on the left side, as far away from me as she could get.
A/N: Woo, so there's chapter 8! Once again, so sorry for the delay! I hope you all will forgive me. Please write a review. :) Also, be looking out for chapter 2 of Old, New, Borrowed, Blue.
Disclaimer: Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrmann.
Miranda and I returned to my house after our double date, which had fallen just short of the honor of being called a disaster. At least, that was my opinion; Miranda thought everything had gone wonderfully, and had even hinted at the possibility of Andrew and me continuing dating. When she had mentioned this, I merely stayed quiet, and Miranda had moved on to another topic, thankfully.
When we walked through my front door with Miranda carrying her overnight bag and her favorite pillow, we found my mom in the living room. Dad was there as well, but he was lying on the couch, asleep, with his head in Mom's lap. Mom was watching some black and white show on TV, but she looked up when she heard us walk in.
"Hey girls," she greeted us in a whisper, presumably so she wouldn't wake up Dad.
"Hey, Mom," I replied at the same time Miranda said, "Hey, Mrs. McGuire." I returned the smile Mom was giving me. "Miranda's sleeping over tonight. Is that okay?" I asked, knowing it would be. Mom loved Miranda like another daughter, just like she loved Gordo like another son.
Suddenly, my mind returned to what--or whom, really--I had been thinking about practically nonstop all night. Gordo. Perhaps that was what had caused my date with Andrew not to be particularly fulfilling. I didn't know. All I knew was that while I was sitting at the table in the restaurant, I would look at Andrew, or think about Andrew, and compare him to Gordo. Well, Andrew's hair is tamer than Gordo's . . . but Gordo's just suits him. Andrew's taller than Gordo . . . but Gordo doesn't tower over me like Andrew does; Gordo's height is just right. Andrew seems to be more muscular than Gordo . . . but Gordo can act, and he has a great singing voice; and it's not like Gordo's scrawny.
It was weird--really weird. I knew I shouldn't have been comparing the two of them for many reasons; for one thing, I had just met Andrew, but I'd known Gordo my whole life, so the comparison wasn't exactly fair to Andrew. I had realized that in the middle of one of my comparisons, but had just kept doing the same throughout our entire date, including while we watched the movie The Ring at Dustin's house when Andrew seemed to be trying too hard to play it cool; Gordo would have been hiding his eyes at the gruesome shots just like I was, but Andrew just held me tighter in his arms. And I didn't like it.
Mom's voice jolted me back to reality. "Lizzie? I said it was okay," she said. Mom's face was holding a worried expression, probably because I had spaced out for a few moments. Miranda was giving me a weird look.
"Oh, thanks, Mom," I returned. Then I faked a yawn, raising my hands over my head to stretch, in an attempt to be excused to my room. Otherwise, Mom would have kept Miranda and me downstairs to talk about our evening. "I guess we better turn in. I'm exhausted." As if to prove my point, I yawned again.
At first, Mom looked confused and she checked her watch. "It's only ten, Lizzie," she said. "But I guess all the fun you had on your date just wore you out. Goodnight, honey."
I nodded and walked across the room to peck her on the cheek. "Night, Mom," I said as I exited the room. Miranda raised her hand in a wave and we practically stampeded up the stairs.
When I shut the door to my room behind me, Miranda settled herself down onto my bed and fixed me with an expectant look. "Spill," she said simply.
I did my best to feign confusion, but I realized that it wasn't working when Miranda's eyes never left my own. With a small sigh, I flopped down onto my bed, belly-first, and buried my face in my comforter. I looked up long enough to state, "There's nothing to talk about, Miranda."
She rolled her eyes. "Right, and you didn't act like a total jerk to Andrew tonight," Miranda snapped, her words loaded with sarcasm. "Lizzie, I know something's going on and if we're best friends, you should be able to talk to me about it!"
At first, I was tongue tied. "I--He . . ." Finally, I took a deep breath. "Andrew is a really nice guy and I'd love to be friends with him, but that's all he'll ever be to me. My friend," I stated simply.
"Your friend?" Miranda asked, astounded. "But I thought you two hit it off so well! I even saw a kiss!" She winked at me.
I sighed. How could I explain my feelings to Miranda without sounded like a complete moron? "I--I just don't like him. When he kissed me, I didn't feel anything, you know? It was like . . . Matt kissing me. I mean, he's cute, and funny, and has a great personality, but . . ." I couldn't find the words to finish what I was trying to say. To tell the truth, I didn't even know what I was trying to say!
Apparently, Miranda did. "But he's not Gordo," she said slyly, grinning at me.
I pretended to be shocked, but deep down I knew that she was right. I had once liked Gordo when we were in junior high and I swore that he liked me back, but nothing had ever come of that and we'd just stayed friends. For the longest time during my high school career, that was what I thought him to be, but some time in the past year, my feelings for him returned to the more than just friends variety. I hadn't admitted that to myself, let alone another person, until that night.
I could feel myself blushing. "Miranda, being totally in love with one of your best friends cannot be a good thing . . . especially when nothing came of it when you were totally in love with him a few years earlier," I complained. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to forget about Gordo and fall deeply in love with Andrew.
"But it would be much worse if the best friend you were in love with was me, wouldn't it?" Miranda asked, her eyes glistening as she tried to add a little humor in to our conversation. I glared at her, telling her I was not amused. "All right, all right!" she exclaimed. "The first step to dating your best friend is admitting that you like him, which I'm so proud to say you've done."
I groaned. Suddenly I had a pounding headache. "Listen, Miranda . . . I know you're just dying to play matchmaker with us, but please stay out of it. Gordo doesn't like me like that and it would be super embarrassing for for all parties involved if he found out I liked him. Please?" I was practically begging.
"Ugh, fine," Miranda said finally. "But when Gordo finally finds someone who will admit that she likes him instead of hiding from her feelings, don't come crying to me about it."
"Fine, I won't!" I snapped, feeling a surge of anger at Miranda rise in me. "Goodnight!" I flipped off the light and climbed under my covers on the right side of the bed while Miranda climbed under the covers on the left side, as far away from me as she could get.