Disclaimer: Lizzie McGuire and all other related characters, episodes, etc., is owned by Disney and the other owners, whoever they may be. Not me. I know, amazing, right?

AN: Wow, thanks for all of the reviews. I wasn't sure if I would get any. About the sweatshirt…I was and am actually saving it for later, its just a hint to Lizzie about Gordo's feelings. It's not anything earth shattering, you'll find out soon.

Every Morning: Chapter 3

She walks so cute. Oh god, I need to stop doing this. I wonder what would happen if she found out about the sweatshirt she's wearing. But the only person who knows is Miranda…"Oh crap! Miranda!"

"Gordo? What did you say?" Lizzie wandered back into the living room carrying her backpack.

"Miranda. She was supposed to stop by around ten to pick up her movie. She knows where the spare key is. Why wouldn't she wake me up and ask me to get the DVD for her?" Did she see us cuddling? And she left us that way???

"I don't know, Gordon. Why don't you call her and ask?" Oh crap! She must have seen me snuggling up to him. Great. She'll probably have figured it out by now anyway.

"We're meeting her at the Bean after my parents get back from that conference around four, I'll just bring it then."

"Okay. So, ummm…my essay?"

"Right, right. Lets go in the kitchen." That way we'll have separate chairs and I don't have to worry about getting distracted by your perfume or your hair or that face you make when you concentrate…

"Gordo??? Earth to Gordo…you coming?" Lizzie was standing at the threshold to the kitchen, one hand on her hip, the other holding her backpack.

"Yeah, sure. I'm coming." As they got settled at the table, and started work on the essay, they both tried desperately not to get distracted, and more than once caught the other staring back at them. They actually forgot about Miranda until Gordo's parents got home at three thirty.

"David?" came Roberta Gordon's voice from the foyer. Gordo barely heard the slam of the door and his father putting down their overnight bags. He was too busy watching the sun dance on Lizzie's hair and light up over her freckles. "David?"

"What? Oh, were in here, Mom." Roberta made her way to the kitchen as her husband took their bags upstairs.

"How was your weekend David? Why, hello, Elizabeth!"

"Hello Mrs. Gordon. How was your conference?"

"It went very well, thanks."

"Lizzie and I are working on an essay for history, and we're meeting Miranda in about half an hour at the Digital Bean."

"That's fine with me. Your father and I are going to the office for a while. We'll be back at around seven. Drive safely, dear."

"Okay, mom." Geez, mom. I've had my license for a year now. I'm not three years old any more. He listened until his parents left, closing the front door behind them. "Do you want me to walk you home so you can get ready to meet the third musketeer?" he asked Lizzie.

"Yeah, I'm almost done with the conclusion." Gordo watched as Lizzie finished the last sentence of her essay and push it into a folder, which she put into her bag. She stood up, and so did her.

As they made their way out his front door and down the street, he tried not to watch her out of the corner of his eye. Her hair was glowing like a dandelion after a summer rain shower, and she looked like an angel to him. Meanwhile, she was walking so close to him that she had to resist not grabbing his hand with hers on more than one occasion. The her, he smelled like fall and cinnamon and apple cider. She grinned, and he couldn't help but smile too. After what seemed like an eternity, or a moment frozen in time, for both of them, they reached her house. Lizzie pulled her key out of her back pack and opened her door, and left Gordo and her backpack in the t.v. room. He smiled as she climbed the stairs two at a time, and waited for her like it was nothing. He would wait for her until the cows came home.

She came down ten minutes later, the whispers of makeup on her face. She was beaming, her golden hair pulled into a loose bun, with wisps framing her face. She was wearing black jeans with a slash in one knee and some old concert tee shirt. The out fit was completed with an old pair of Gordo's converses, which she had grown accustomed to wearing, even though they were sort of big on her. Her eyes twinkled and he stood up. The only thing he could think was I can't believe the things you do to me, McGuire. The things you do.

"Where's my sweatshirt?"

"In my closet, do you want it right now?"

"No, keep it until whenever." It was made for you anyway, but you wouldn't know that.