Disclaimer: still not mine.
A/N: Okay, I didn't state it in the first chapter, but yes, this does take place the fall after Rome. I wrote it before the movie came out, and didn't really want to go into intense detail about the summer in particular, so I didn't.
***
First days, as I said, suck. Teachers make you fill out those boring little 'name-address-phone number' index cards, and they pass out their little detailed plans of everything they hope to accomplish this year down to the exact date, which never ever work out. Because there will always be those days with substitutes, and those days where you end up discussing current events, and things like that. And this morning I had had at least three teachers inform me (well, not me specifically) that "this isn't middle school -- it's preparation for the *real world*."
As if middle school isn't preparation for the real world.
Of course, everything is much more dramatic in high school. There are social hierarchies unlike anything you've ever seen, and midterms. Why, I ask myself on a daily basis, can't we all just be who we want to be and hang out with who we want to hang out with and not have it completely mar our social status? 'Cause once we graduate, none of that matters anyway. There aren't cliques in the 'real world,' unless you count, like, country clubs and cults and things.
This is me starting to think more like Gordo, you see. Not that it's a bad thing, necessarily, because Gordo is completely and totally his own person.
Thinking like Gordo... Likewise, I'd been thinking *about* Gordo all morning, pretty much. I hadn't been sitting in the first row like I almost always do, instead I'd been sitting behind him, staring moonily at his hair. God, I'm a sap. Overnight I'd become completely transfixed by how staggeringly awesome Gordo was. So much so that it had turned me into a blithering idiot only barely capable of coherent speech, and the sort of person who would just sit there for forty-five minutes and gawk at the back of someone's head.
By the time lunch rolled around, I was a mess. High school was draining me, and it was only the first day. Maybe it was because I had only been half paying attention. I would be listening to every word the teacher said; absorbing, you know? And like, Gordo would reach up to scratch his arm or something, and I would freak out and lose track of everything.
What was *wrong* with me? I was acting like I...
Oh, God. I was acting like I *liked* him.
I could *not* have a crush on Gordo! I couldn't! He was Gordo! I mean, I had flipped out when I had found out that Gordo maybe had a crush on me last year. 'Cause, you know, I didn't think of Gordo like that...I thought of him as Gordo, my best friend for ages, not Gordo, potential boyfriend.
So what was going on? Things hadn't changed in Rome that badly. I mean, we were still the same people.
Except we weren't the same people. We were...different. Augh. Because I had kissed him. It had been a thank-you kiss, and he must've known that, because he never asked about it. Not that I would've known what to say if he had. My brain wasn't wrapping around this. I mean, Gordo was still Gordo, and I was still Lizzie, so why were things so different all of a sudden?
'Because he would give up everything for you,' a nagging voice sang in my mind. 'And you've given up everything for him.'
"Shut up," I muttered, just as he was putting his tray on the table.
"Excuse me?"
I looked up at him; he was blinking at me in confusing. Fantastic, McGuire, you're officially talking to the voices in your head, and your best friend thinks you're loony-tunes. Which you *are*. I coughed, smiled nervously, and offered a feeble, "Oh, nothing."
He shook his head slightly and sat down across from me. "And you say *I'm* weird."
"You are weird. You just like, stare off into space for forever, and sometimes, you open your mouth to speak, but you never actually *say* anything, and when I ask what's up you make up some excuse and run away."
Was it my imagination, or was he blushing? "Yeah, well, I have a lot on my mind," he mumbled.
"You could clue me in sometimes," I said, my voice laced with attitude. I hadn't meant to sound so irritated, really, and it was more frustration with myself than him.
"You don't wanna hear what I'm thinking half the time," he insisted.
"Sure I do. You're smart and interesting."
He stared at me, contemplating what I'd said. I was floundering under his gaze, and I felt like a huge idiot. I get the feeling sometimes like he's trying to draw my energy out through those stares of his, impossibly forceful and deep. "Sometimes...sometimes I think you'd think I was out of my mind."
I wanted to respond back lightly, something along the lines of 'I thought you didn't care what people think,' but I was locked in that intense moment with him, and I found myself blurting, "Gordo, have you ever been in love?"
Okay, so maybe it wasn't subtle. And it definitely wasn't bright. Why had I said that? For one, I wasn't in love with him. I wasn't. It was just a silly crush from a silly high school girl. But I was on the edge of my seat mentally, waiting for his response.
He blinked at me, and I thought for sure he was going to ask if I was feeling okay. I guess he realized the seriousness of my question, understood that it wasn't some flippant thing, that I really respected our relationship and wanted to talk about things like this. "Yeah," he said, picking up his sandwich. "I have." He bit into it.
"So you don't think we're too young to be falling in love?"
Wait. Did that sound like I meant that we specifically, are too young to be falling in love...with *each other*? I hadn't meant it like that. Please don't read into it. Please.
"Nope," he said around a mouthful of sandwich, then swallowed and shook his head. "I think love doesn't have an age. Like, you're capable of loving your parents at a very young age, so why can't you also truly love another person? If the person is right, then you fall in love. There's no specific date to do it."
I nodded. "Yeah." He was so damned insightful sometimes. I liked that.
He looked at me pointedly. "And you?"
What? Oh, wait, he thought we were having a conversation. We *were* having a conversation, at least until the point where my brain took a leave of absence and started focusing on my best friend.
"Yeah..." I said slowly. "I mean, well... I think that loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things. But I think that when you love someone, I mean, *love* them, than that's it." I frowned. The things I said, even my deep stuff, sounded ridiculous next to Gordo's little speeches.
But when I glanced at him, he was nodding like he agreed with me. "That's what I'm saying."
"You said it a lot better than I did," I admitted.
"So, um...why do you ask?"
Oh, no. No, no, no. Don't ask that! I can't tell you!
Because I'm beginning to think that as crazy as it is, maybe I *am* in love with Gordo.
"I...I don't know..." I said feebly. I picked up my pizza and took a bite, just to take the focus off myself.
"Lizzie..." He was staring at his sandwich like it held the secrets to the universe. "Why did you come back with us? I mean, you could've stayed in Rome. They were offering you your dream life...and you didn't take it."
I stalled for time by chewing my pizza laboriously. What was I supposed to say to that?
"I mean, not that I'd want you to stay in Rome. Well, I mean, I would, if it meant that you were happy...but I'd miss you, you know? But like, they were handing you your future on a silver platter, and you got on the plane with the rest of us peons."
"Maybe that wasn't the future I saw for myself," I said slowly. "I...I don't know. I thought about it, I really did, and something held me back."
"Can I ask what?"
"The, um, the...people. The people." Well, one person in particular. I was blushing despite myself, and my eyes were absolutely glued to the table, and he must've known. He couldn't not have known. I was this close to bolting, my legs were burning with the desire to be used and used fast.
"The people," he repeated.
"Mhmm."
"Any...um...person in particular?"
Was he really asking me that..? I coughed. "Um. Well. Maybe. I guess. I don't know."
"Oh."
"But it wasn't, like, Ethan, or whatever, if that's what you're thinking," I put in quickly. I chanced a glance at him, and he looked away when he saw me looking.
"Well, um, good. I mean, Ethan's nothing special."
"No way," I agreed readily, and he looked at me then, confusion etched on his face. "Are you kidding me? This from the girl who followed him around mindlessly for a year and a half?"
"It wasn't that bad," I said, but we both knew it was.
"So you're over him?"
"Yeah, yeah I am," I answered honestly. "Is that okay?" Suddenly I was desperate for his approval.
"Of course that's okay." Gordo got this look on his face for a second, like he'd said too much or something.
"I mean, you know, you were...well, you were right. About Ethan," I said. "So, you should be happy."
"I'm always happy when I'm right."
"So you must be this big huge ball of smiles," I blurted, and he looked at me, and we both burst into laughter. It had come out of nowhere, but I think we were both trying to ease the tension. Ever since...*that day*, we'd been alternating between these comfortable moods to total awkwardness. Like we weren't really sure about each other.
Which is weird, because I'm totally sure about Gordo.
We sat there, just coming off of that mindless-laughter high, smiling goofily at each other. And...it happened. I leaned across the table, and I kissed him.
This was definitely *not* a thank-you kiss, and we both knew it.
I pulled back from him like he was diseased. Not the most subtle of reactions, but my entire body was burning. Partially from the excitement of having kissed the guy, but mostly out of total embarrassment. I pushed my tray away from me and leapt from my seat. "I...I gotta...gotta go," I stammered, pushing my hair out of my face just to have it flop back. Whatever. Having it there only hid my face, so it was all good.
I ran from the cafeteria.
I had kissed Gordo.
Gordo. Kiss. Kiss. Gordo.
My brain was running in crazy circles, torn between wanting to enjoy the kiss, and wanting to commit hara-kiri for having even *considering* it. GordokisskissGordo.
I had kissed Gordo.
A/N: Okay, I didn't state it in the first chapter, but yes, this does take place the fall after Rome. I wrote it before the movie came out, and didn't really want to go into intense detail about the summer in particular, so I didn't.
***
First days, as I said, suck. Teachers make you fill out those boring little 'name-address-phone number' index cards, and they pass out their little detailed plans of everything they hope to accomplish this year down to the exact date, which never ever work out. Because there will always be those days with substitutes, and those days where you end up discussing current events, and things like that. And this morning I had had at least three teachers inform me (well, not me specifically) that "this isn't middle school -- it's preparation for the *real world*."
As if middle school isn't preparation for the real world.
Of course, everything is much more dramatic in high school. There are social hierarchies unlike anything you've ever seen, and midterms. Why, I ask myself on a daily basis, can't we all just be who we want to be and hang out with who we want to hang out with and not have it completely mar our social status? 'Cause once we graduate, none of that matters anyway. There aren't cliques in the 'real world,' unless you count, like, country clubs and cults and things.
This is me starting to think more like Gordo, you see. Not that it's a bad thing, necessarily, because Gordo is completely and totally his own person.
Thinking like Gordo... Likewise, I'd been thinking *about* Gordo all morning, pretty much. I hadn't been sitting in the first row like I almost always do, instead I'd been sitting behind him, staring moonily at his hair. God, I'm a sap. Overnight I'd become completely transfixed by how staggeringly awesome Gordo was. So much so that it had turned me into a blithering idiot only barely capable of coherent speech, and the sort of person who would just sit there for forty-five minutes and gawk at the back of someone's head.
By the time lunch rolled around, I was a mess. High school was draining me, and it was only the first day. Maybe it was because I had only been half paying attention. I would be listening to every word the teacher said; absorbing, you know? And like, Gordo would reach up to scratch his arm or something, and I would freak out and lose track of everything.
What was *wrong* with me? I was acting like I...
Oh, God. I was acting like I *liked* him.
I could *not* have a crush on Gordo! I couldn't! He was Gordo! I mean, I had flipped out when I had found out that Gordo maybe had a crush on me last year. 'Cause, you know, I didn't think of Gordo like that...I thought of him as Gordo, my best friend for ages, not Gordo, potential boyfriend.
So what was going on? Things hadn't changed in Rome that badly. I mean, we were still the same people.
Except we weren't the same people. We were...different. Augh. Because I had kissed him. It had been a thank-you kiss, and he must've known that, because he never asked about it. Not that I would've known what to say if he had. My brain wasn't wrapping around this. I mean, Gordo was still Gordo, and I was still Lizzie, so why were things so different all of a sudden?
'Because he would give up everything for you,' a nagging voice sang in my mind. 'And you've given up everything for him.'
"Shut up," I muttered, just as he was putting his tray on the table.
"Excuse me?"
I looked up at him; he was blinking at me in confusing. Fantastic, McGuire, you're officially talking to the voices in your head, and your best friend thinks you're loony-tunes. Which you *are*. I coughed, smiled nervously, and offered a feeble, "Oh, nothing."
He shook his head slightly and sat down across from me. "And you say *I'm* weird."
"You are weird. You just like, stare off into space for forever, and sometimes, you open your mouth to speak, but you never actually *say* anything, and when I ask what's up you make up some excuse and run away."
Was it my imagination, or was he blushing? "Yeah, well, I have a lot on my mind," he mumbled.
"You could clue me in sometimes," I said, my voice laced with attitude. I hadn't meant to sound so irritated, really, and it was more frustration with myself than him.
"You don't wanna hear what I'm thinking half the time," he insisted.
"Sure I do. You're smart and interesting."
He stared at me, contemplating what I'd said. I was floundering under his gaze, and I felt like a huge idiot. I get the feeling sometimes like he's trying to draw my energy out through those stares of his, impossibly forceful and deep. "Sometimes...sometimes I think you'd think I was out of my mind."
I wanted to respond back lightly, something along the lines of 'I thought you didn't care what people think,' but I was locked in that intense moment with him, and I found myself blurting, "Gordo, have you ever been in love?"
Okay, so maybe it wasn't subtle. And it definitely wasn't bright. Why had I said that? For one, I wasn't in love with him. I wasn't. It was just a silly crush from a silly high school girl. But I was on the edge of my seat mentally, waiting for his response.
He blinked at me, and I thought for sure he was going to ask if I was feeling okay. I guess he realized the seriousness of my question, understood that it wasn't some flippant thing, that I really respected our relationship and wanted to talk about things like this. "Yeah," he said, picking up his sandwich. "I have." He bit into it.
"So you don't think we're too young to be falling in love?"
Wait. Did that sound like I meant that we specifically, are too young to be falling in love...with *each other*? I hadn't meant it like that. Please don't read into it. Please.
"Nope," he said around a mouthful of sandwich, then swallowed and shook his head. "I think love doesn't have an age. Like, you're capable of loving your parents at a very young age, so why can't you also truly love another person? If the person is right, then you fall in love. There's no specific date to do it."
I nodded. "Yeah." He was so damned insightful sometimes. I liked that.
He looked at me pointedly. "And you?"
What? Oh, wait, he thought we were having a conversation. We *were* having a conversation, at least until the point where my brain took a leave of absence and started focusing on my best friend.
"Yeah..." I said slowly. "I mean, well... I think that loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things. But I think that when you love someone, I mean, *love* them, than that's it." I frowned. The things I said, even my deep stuff, sounded ridiculous next to Gordo's little speeches.
But when I glanced at him, he was nodding like he agreed with me. "That's what I'm saying."
"You said it a lot better than I did," I admitted.
"So, um...why do you ask?"
Oh, no. No, no, no. Don't ask that! I can't tell you!
Because I'm beginning to think that as crazy as it is, maybe I *am* in love with Gordo.
"I...I don't know..." I said feebly. I picked up my pizza and took a bite, just to take the focus off myself.
"Lizzie..." He was staring at his sandwich like it held the secrets to the universe. "Why did you come back with us? I mean, you could've stayed in Rome. They were offering you your dream life...and you didn't take it."
I stalled for time by chewing my pizza laboriously. What was I supposed to say to that?
"I mean, not that I'd want you to stay in Rome. Well, I mean, I would, if it meant that you were happy...but I'd miss you, you know? But like, they were handing you your future on a silver platter, and you got on the plane with the rest of us peons."
"Maybe that wasn't the future I saw for myself," I said slowly. "I...I don't know. I thought about it, I really did, and something held me back."
"Can I ask what?"
"The, um, the...people. The people." Well, one person in particular. I was blushing despite myself, and my eyes were absolutely glued to the table, and he must've known. He couldn't not have known. I was this close to bolting, my legs were burning with the desire to be used and used fast.
"The people," he repeated.
"Mhmm."
"Any...um...person in particular?"
Was he really asking me that..? I coughed. "Um. Well. Maybe. I guess. I don't know."
"Oh."
"But it wasn't, like, Ethan, or whatever, if that's what you're thinking," I put in quickly. I chanced a glance at him, and he looked away when he saw me looking.
"Well, um, good. I mean, Ethan's nothing special."
"No way," I agreed readily, and he looked at me then, confusion etched on his face. "Are you kidding me? This from the girl who followed him around mindlessly for a year and a half?"
"It wasn't that bad," I said, but we both knew it was.
"So you're over him?"
"Yeah, yeah I am," I answered honestly. "Is that okay?" Suddenly I was desperate for his approval.
"Of course that's okay." Gordo got this look on his face for a second, like he'd said too much or something.
"I mean, you know, you were...well, you were right. About Ethan," I said. "So, you should be happy."
"I'm always happy when I'm right."
"So you must be this big huge ball of smiles," I blurted, and he looked at me, and we both burst into laughter. It had come out of nowhere, but I think we were both trying to ease the tension. Ever since...*that day*, we'd been alternating between these comfortable moods to total awkwardness. Like we weren't really sure about each other.
Which is weird, because I'm totally sure about Gordo.
We sat there, just coming off of that mindless-laughter high, smiling goofily at each other. And...it happened. I leaned across the table, and I kissed him.
This was definitely *not* a thank-you kiss, and we both knew it.
I pulled back from him like he was diseased. Not the most subtle of reactions, but my entire body was burning. Partially from the excitement of having kissed the guy, but mostly out of total embarrassment. I pushed my tray away from me and leapt from my seat. "I...I gotta...gotta go," I stammered, pushing my hair out of my face just to have it flop back. Whatever. Having it there only hid my face, so it was all good.
I ran from the cafeteria.
I had kissed Gordo.
Gordo. Kiss. Kiss. Gordo.
My brain was running in crazy circles, torn between wanting to enjoy the kiss, and wanting to commit hara-kiri for having even *considering* it. GordokisskissGordo.
I had kissed Gordo.