A/N: Getting them out as quickly as possible, as requested =) Hope you're
all enjoying it.
--Lizzie--
She pulled him all the way to the house door, opening quickly and pushing him out, following and closing the door in a single motion. Without any training or rehearsal, it was an impressive display.
But that wasn't her focus for the moment.
She stood there on the front step, silhouetted almost perfectly, hands on her hips. Had she not been so aggravated by Gordo, her parents and the increasing pressure their relationship was causing, she may have reflected on the tranquillity of the night.
Just how far did Gordo think this was supposed to go?
"Gordo-" she spluttered, frustrated, "what's going on?"
"Hey, I'm just going with it McGuire," he replied coolly, raising his hands in defence and propelling himself backward slightly, "this was your plan. . .I'm just playing my little part in it".
"Yes but lieing to our *parents* wasn't in the plan," Lizzie interjected, throwing him a look of antipathy, "not like that at least".
"Then exactly how did you think we were going to pull this one past them?" he replied, narrowing his brow and standing firm.
Checkmate. She knew he had her there.
They both stopped for a moment. An observer probably would have guessed they were a couple, acting the way they were. Nothing was said for some time, they continued to look each other over.
As much as she hated it, he was right. This was her plan and she was starting to lose control of it.
"Gordo- don't point out the bleeding obvious to me when I'm clearly in a state of panic," she riposted.
He fumbled with hands, intertwining them and fiddling, "well. . ."
"No," she said slowly, "I'm sorry".
He looked at her sharply, taken aback but not displeased. Neither of them could face the other. Perhaps it was the feeling, all of a sudden, that a 'moment' was coming on.
And then she remembered the phone call. It would suffice to avoid anything awkward.
"Gordo, Miranda's gone. She called before dinner and- and now she's not here and yeah- she's gone- for good," Lizzie spieled, becoming more emotional.
Gordo chuckled softly, "you make it sound so final, like she's going for the whole summer or something".
"Gordo," Lizzie replied seriously, looking up slightly, "she IS going for the whole summer".
"Ouch," he answered softly, knowing full well what that meant for Lizzie.
He *was* her best friend, but he wasn't a girl like Miranda. He couldn't relate to her on every single level like Miranda could, in some instances at least.
A pause again struck them both. Lizzie desperately tried to avoid the lulls in conversation, they would simply compound the 'moment'.
"Look- I say we keep this out of our parents' view. . .we just pretend we're together in front of the right people at the right times," Lizzie spoke up, raising a hand to her forehead and massaging herself lightly.
"But they already know. . .well- they know something's up," Gordo pointed out.
"All we have to do is dodge their questions or- or their snooping. We need to put them on the back foot again, somehow," Lizzie pondered.
Gordo looked up at the roof and spoke, "that's pretty damn good McGuire, you'd be a good spy".
Lizzie shot him a look of misunderstanding, "what?"
"A spy Lizzie, a spy. You seem too good at all this- this espionage and lies and such," he continued, returning his gaze to her briefly and then onto something else quickly.
"Gordo, we're dealing with our parents. . .it's not exactly the Cold War," she answered sarcastically.
He laughed and shook his head, "and being a spy and all would make you a good- a good dancer, right?"
Lizzie cocked her head slightly, lowering a brow, "and what makes you think spies are good dancers?" she asked, "wait. . .should I be more concerned that you think spies are good dancers or that you keep pulling random things out of the air?"
Surprisingly, he laughed again. She hadn't had this much fun with him, in a long time. He was relaxed, she was relaxed; they weren't pretending or posing in front of anyone, they were just being the regular old friends they had been.
"Well, you see, in all those old movies, spies *always* know how to dance," he replied matter-of-factly.
"And suddenly you start believing everything that happens in movies?" Lizzie questioned sardonically.
"Hey, I figure we're acting most of the time these days- it can't be far off from reality," Gordo replied with ironic cynicism.
"Well- fair enough. . .but I still don't see the connection," she said, stepping forward and off the step, level with him.
"We've got that Ball to go to and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind giving me a few pointers- about dancing, not spying- so that we could. . .you know. . .dance on the night," he answered.
Lizzie began to giggle hysterically, "is that what all that was about?"
Gordo avoided looking at her.
"Oh!" she noticed, "Gordo, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to laugh. . .it was just an odd way of bringing it up".
He nodded slowly and continued to look away, "yeah- yeah I guess it was".
They both paused in silence.
Lizzie wasn't usually the adventurous type, especially around those whom she felt strangely awkward with, especially in instances where she might be alone with said persons.
"Look," she began, "why don't I show you right now?"
Gordo looked up at her strangely, screwing his face up in disbelief.
"It's my turn to be- spontaneous and random, Gordo," she giggled, "come on, what do you say?"
"How can I say 'no' to dancing with my best friend in the street, at dinnertime, where we're sure to have people question our sanity?" Gordo answered jokingly.
She laughed and grabbed his hand instinctively.
It would have been alright, between the pair, had she suddenly not stopped laughing. There they were, standing on the McGuire front lawn, holding hands and looking at each other oddly.
"Well- it's- it's real simple. . .we're doing a slow dance, by the way. . .all you have to do is put your hand here," she began nervously, placing his hand on her hip, "and take my hand, raising up to shoulder level," she continued, demonstrating further, "and let me rest my free hand here on your opposite shoulder," she concluded, following through with what she had said.
They continued to stand there in the dimmed light of the house door, starring into one another's eyes.
"Now- now just step left two-three, right two-three in a sort of circular pattern. . .and. . ." Lizzie trailed off, forgetting exactly what she had to say.
"So- s- we just- and there'd be music, right?" Gordo asked with a dry throat.
"Just imagine it," she whispered softly.
And they did, dancing slowly in the eerie light, without accompaniment or onlookers to criticise. Neither of the pair said a thing; nothing could be said, they were both lost in the moment. Everything she had been trying to avoid only moments before was now happening right on her front lawn. . .and she didn't want it to stop.
A/N: Just so no one has a conniption, I don't dance or know the first thing about it; I don't pretend to know so don't go crazy about my ever so lame description of, and about the interaction between, Lizzie and Gordo's dance. Quite simply, I don't know and haven't researched it (but I will. . .).
And just as a little aside, this was *originally* the point at which I was going to end this story, it's got closure to some extent- I'm still wondering whether I should continue. I do have plenty more I could add, but I guess we'll see.
--Lizzie--
She pulled him all the way to the house door, opening quickly and pushing him out, following and closing the door in a single motion. Without any training or rehearsal, it was an impressive display.
But that wasn't her focus for the moment.
She stood there on the front step, silhouetted almost perfectly, hands on her hips. Had she not been so aggravated by Gordo, her parents and the increasing pressure their relationship was causing, she may have reflected on the tranquillity of the night.
Just how far did Gordo think this was supposed to go?
"Gordo-" she spluttered, frustrated, "what's going on?"
"Hey, I'm just going with it McGuire," he replied coolly, raising his hands in defence and propelling himself backward slightly, "this was your plan. . .I'm just playing my little part in it".
"Yes but lieing to our *parents* wasn't in the plan," Lizzie interjected, throwing him a look of antipathy, "not like that at least".
"Then exactly how did you think we were going to pull this one past them?" he replied, narrowing his brow and standing firm.
Checkmate. She knew he had her there.
They both stopped for a moment. An observer probably would have guessed they were a couple, acting the way they were. Nothing was said for some time, they continued to look each other over.
As much as she hated it, he was right. This was her plan and she was starting to lose control of it.
"Gordo- don't point out the bleeding obvious to me when I'm clearly in a state of panic," she riposted.
He fumbled with hands, intertwining them and fiddling, "well. . ."
"No," she said slowly, "I'm sorry".
He looked at her sharply, taken aback but not displeased. Neither of them could face the other. Perhaps it was the feeling, all of a sudden, that a 'moment' was coming on.
And then she remembered the phone call. It would suffice to avoid anything awkward.
"Gordo, Miranda's gone. She called before dinner and- and now she's not here and yeah- she's gone- for good," Lizzie spieled, becoming more emotional.
Gordo chuckled softly, "you make it sound so final, like she's going for the whole summer or something".
"Gordo," Lizzie replied seriously, looking up slightly, "she IS going for the whole summer".
"Ouch," he answered softly, knowing full well what that meant for Lizzie.
He *was* her best friend, but he wasn't a girl like Miranda. He couldn't relate to her on every single level like Miranda could, in some instances at least.
A pause again struck them both. Lizzie desperately tried to avoid the lulls in conversation, they would simply compound the 'moment'.
"Look- I say we keep this out of our parents' view. . .we just pretend we're together in front of the right people at the right times," Lizzie spoke up, raising a hand to her forehead and massaging herself lightly.
"But they already know. . .well- they know something's up," Gordo pointed out.
"All we have to do is dodge their questions or- or their snooping. We need to put them on the back foot again, somehow," Lizzie pondered.
Gordo looked up at the roof and spoke, "that's pretty damn good McGuire, you'd be a good spy".
Lizzie shot him a look of misunderstanding, "what?"
"A spy Lizzie, a spy. You seem too good at all this- this espionage and lies and such," he continued, returning his gaze to her briefly and then onto something else quickly.
"Gordo, we're dealing with our parents. . .it's not exactly the Cold War," she answered sarcastically.
He laughed and shook his head, "and being a spy and all would make you a good- a good dancer, right?"
Lizzie cocked her head slightly, lowering a brow, "and what makes you think spies are good dancers?" she asked, "wait. . .should I be more concerned that you think spies are good dancers or that you keep pulling random things out of the air?"
Surprisingly, he laughed again. She hadn't had this much fun with him, in a long time. He was relaxed, she was relaxed; they weren't pretending or posing in front of anyone, they were just being the regular old friends they had been.
"Well, you see, in all those old movies, spies *always* know how to dance," he replied matter-of-factly.
"And suddenly you start believing everything that happens in movies?" Lizzie questioned sardonically.
"Hey, I figure we're acting most of the time these days- it can't be far off from reality," Gordo replied with ironic cynicism.
"Well- fair enough. . .but I still don't see the connection," she said, stepping forward and off the step, level with him.
"We've got that Ball to go to and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind giving me a few pointers- about dancing, not spying- so that we could. . .you know. . .dance on the night," he answered.
Lizzie began to giggle hysterically, "is that what all that was about?"
Gordo avoided looking at her.
"Oh!" she noticed, "Gordo, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to laugh. . .it was just an odd way of bringing it up".
He nodded slowly and continued to look away, "yeah- yeah I guess it was".
They both paused in silence.
Lizzie wasn't usually the adventurous type, especially around those whom she felt strangely awkward with, especially in instances where she might be alone with said persons.
"Look," she began, "why don't I show you right now?"
Gordo looked up at her strangely, screwing his face up in disbelief.
"It's my turn to be- spontaneous and random, Gordo," she giggled, "come on, what do you say?"
"How can I say 'no' to dancing with my best friend in the street, at dinnertime, where we're sure to have people question our sanity?" Gordo answered jokingly.
She laughed and grabbed his hand instinctively.
It would have been alright, between the pair, had she suddenly not stopped laughing. There they were, standing on the McGuire front lawn, holding hands and looking at each other oddly.
"Well- it's- it's real simple. . .we're doing a slow dance, by the way. . .all you have to do is put your hand here," she began nervously, placing his hand on her hip, "and take my hand, raising up to shoulder level," she continued, demonstrating further, "and let me rest my free hand here on your opposite shoulder," she concluded, following through with what she had said.
They continued to stand there in the dimmed light of the house door, starring into one another's eyes.
"Now- now just step left two-three, right two-three in a sort of circular pattern. . .and. . ." Lizzie trailed off, forgetting exactly what she had to say.
"So- s- we just- and there'd be music, right?" Gordo asked with a dry throat.
"Just imagine it," she whispered softly.
And they did, dancing slowly in the eerie light, without accompaniment or onlookers to criticise. Neither of the pair said a thing; nothing could be said, they were both lost in the moment. Everything she had been trying to avoid only moments before was now happening right on her front lawn. . .and she didn't want it to stop.
A/N: Just so no one has a conniption, I don't dance or know the first thing about it; I don't pretend to know so don't go crazy about my ever so lame description of, and about the interaction between, Lizzie and Gordo's dance. Quite simply, I don't know and haven't researched it (but I will. . .).
And just as a little aside, this was *originally* the point at which I was going to end this story, it's got closure to some extent- I'm still wondering whether I should continue. I do have plenty more I could add, but I guess we'll see.