[Disclaimer: I don't own "The Lizzie McGuire Movie", "Lizzie McGuire", Lizzie, Gordo, Rome, Italy, or any cool hot Italian dudes. This is my own story of what happened in Rome. Nothing with Paolo or getting famous is in it. It's pretty much original. So there you go.
Adam rules.
Onto the story.]
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I'm not like most guys.
I'm not like Ethan Craft, who tactfully uses his charm and good looks to attract girls to him.
I'm not like Larry Tudgeman, who boldly will ask out any girl, any time.
I am David Gordon, who hides in the shadows and hopes some girl will find his intellect, sense of humor, and taste for Frank Sinatra appealing. I wait for the girls to come to me. That is, if they ever will.
But that's not what girls want. No, girls want a boy to come right out and say it. No beating around the bush, just come out with it. At least, that's what I've come to learn. Lizzie has said yes' to every date offer that's crossed her path. Ronnie, Frankieeven Tudgeman has gotten a yes' from her. Why did I put such high standards on myself? Did I really think Lizzie would turn me down?
Yeah, that is what I thought. I'm having a hard time dealing with my feelings, and I'm supposed to be the one that's more in tune' with my own feelings. Lizzie's the oblivious one who wouldn't understand true love if it stabbed her in the foot. Imagine how she'd deal with the predicament I'm in.
For a girl I like, I definitely insult Lizzie a lot. But it's not like I'd ever tell her these things. Not unless anger provoked me.
So, there I sat, in the bathroom, while Lizzie changed into what she called comfy clothes'. What's taking her so long? We were only going downstairs to get something to eat from the little café near the lobby, not going to some 5-star restaurant in downtown Rome. I had already changed: baggy cargo pants, a T-shirt, a plaid button-down in case it got cold. What I always wear. As long as I live, I will never understand why girls take so long to get ready. It's the mystery of life. I guess I'm not really supposed to know.
"Okay, I'm ready!" she yelled from inside our room. I opened the door, and despite my exhaustion, my eyes slightly widen at the sight of her. She was standing there, clad in baby blue from head to toe, modeling off her outfit.
"You like?" she said, smiling and twirling around. "I bought it a couple days ago at the mall. It's so Style Shack, minus the price tag. The pants are velour, which is so comfortable. Ooh, and these slippers aren't made with real fur, which is such a plus because I don't think I could live knowing that an animal died just so I could have these cute slippers. And looky! My shirt says Angel'! I know I was kind of trying to shed the good girl' image a couple years ago, but I've decided that that's who I am and I'm just going to embrace it."
I just kind of stared on for a while there, mesmerized by every word. Another reason why I didn't understand why girls take so long to get ready: they're usually beautiful enough to began with.
Like Lizzie.
I knew I should've said something, because I looked dumb staring at her like that.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for rattling on like that," she apologized, mistaking my staring problem for boredom. "This is usually when Miranda steps in and commentsI guess."
But looking at her brought pain to my heart. How could I have not seen her in this light before? There was something, though it seems shallow to say, that those clothes brought out of her. The old Lizzie wouldn't be caught dead in anything less than perfect in front of Ethan Craft. But the fact that she was willing to be herself in publicit signified something more than just a fashion dare. It was a prelude to something much bigger. Some kind of life-altering metamorphosis
What am I saying? My own lust blinds me from reality. Lizzie was not about to undergo an extreme transition. She justwore clothes that were out of the norm for her. That's all that meant.
"No, it's notI mean, it's likeI mean, notyou know" T-t-today, junior. "I didn't meanyou know" I hated those stuttering spells. They always happened when I was talking to Lizzie. Only Lizzie brought out my inner fumbling fool.
"Gordo, you don't have to explain. I know you don't care what I'm wearing anyway. And I know you're just going to tell me that what I wear is not nearly as important as how I am as a person." She rolled her eyes as she spoke. "But you were the one that told me that as long as I was still a good person, it was okay that I still wanted to look pretty." She tugged at her hair and gave it a disgusted look. "Well, one out of two ain't bad."
"Lizzie, your hair is fine," I reassured her. Actually, her hair was more than finebut again, what am I supposed to do? Tell her that? So that she can be freaked out and give me strange looks all night long? I started ushering her gently towards the door. "Now, do you think we could go anytime soon?"
The old Lizzie would've run to the mirror and checked 50 more times before leaving. But all this Lizzie did was say, "Okay, let's go" and opened the door to go downstairs.
We practically flew down the hallway and down the giant staircase. We made a right to go back towards the outside patio. It was weirdlike old times, when we walked everywhere together. Then, there, right before you got outside, was the place to order.
"Umm" Lizzie began as she approached the cashier. "Hablas ingles?"
"Lizzie," I whispered, "That's Spanish."
"Oh!" she whispered a little too loudly. "That's right." She chuckled nervously. "Um"
I looked up at the cashier guy, who was grinning widely at us now.
"Uh, Lizzie, I think he speaks English." He nodded, laughing to himself. I saw Lizzie trying to hold back on hitting the guy for embarrassing her so badly, yet she still managed to laugh at herself.
"In that case," she said, in a jokingly angry voice, "I'll take a vanilla frappucino." He went to the refrigerator and brought her a bottle of it. "Sweet, I didn't know you guys had Starbucks over here!" The guy and I were both trying to hold back our hysterical laughter. I wasn't even sure what was so funnybut it was cool to have another guy to laugh at Lizzie with.
"I'll just have coffee," I said, coolly. We paid for our drinks and headed outside. When we got outside, Lizzie started laughing, too.
"Coffee? Since when you drink coffee?" she said incredulously. "You really are an adult stuck in a teenager's body." We set the drinks down at one of the tables and sat down.
"Last time you asked me if I liked coffee was 6th or 7th grade. I don't know about you, but my tastes have changed since then," I said maturely, before pouring 5 things of creamer and 7 packets of sugar into my coffee. Lizzie just shook her head at me.
"What's the matter, Gordon? Coffee too strong for you?" she teased.
"You couldn't handle this coffee even if you tried."
"That's probably true," she agreed. We laughed together for a second before having one of those awkward, post-laughter silences. I didn't notice that the last of the people around us had gone back inside, leaving the patio to ourselves. I did notice Lizzie's eyes wander towards the sky. They stopped on one particularly bright star right above our heads. "Have you ever seen such a beautiful night?" she sighed. "The stars are twinkling and the moon is glowing. It's so perfect up there." She looked down, back at me. "And I'm in Rome, Italy with my best friend ever." She smiled, and her sparkling eyes pierced mine. "Everything is perfect."
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[A/N: I love this chapter! No, seriously, this chapter rules. Haha, I'm so conceited, but really, I really really liked it. I'm so happy with it. And it's kinda long for me. For once. Just for you. I love you, you awesome reviewers.
Lemme know what you think: please review! Thanks!]
