A/N: Alright I'm heeding the demands of my faithful reviewers! I'll
continue with this one. As I said in the last chapter, there's plenty more
opportunity to go on and make this one something big, I just don't have the
time these days. But we'll see how it goes!
--Gordo--
The gentle rhythm of the car, as it shook slightly on the way home was irritating. He wanted to go to sleep; to relive what had just happened. He'd danced, and ever so properly, with Lizzie McGuire, on her front lawn, in the lateness of the night, under a spell she had cast upon him.
Gordo wasn't the die hard romantic, but what he had engaged in with Lizzie was truly memorable, despite sounding soppy and overindulgent.
And why did it not feel wrong?
Throughout the whole dance he didn't once let his head play politics. His heart led the way, it seemed; and he didn't hate it.
But surely it wasn't the right thing to be doing!
His head had woken up; the true impact of what had happened was soaking in. Not that he had committed any illegal, wrong-doing; he had simply crossed the boundary of friendship... and something else entirely.
His parents sat in the front of the car, his father in the driver's seat, and his mother in the passenger seat, briefly discussing some of the topics they had clearly been conversing over, with the McGuire's. To Gordo, it was odd, that they hadn't begun to grill him with questions concerning his 'relationship' with Lizzie.
There was only one thing to do.
"Are you guys okay with this?" he spoke up; he had decided he wasn't going to get any sleep and had best make use of the time available, after all, his parents weren't exactly often around due to their commitments at work.
"What are you referring to darling?" his mother replied, knowing full well what he was talking about.
"Mo-om... I'm talking about Lizzie and me... what do you think? Are you alright with it?" he forced himself to persist.
There was a pause. Neither of the Gordon parents seemed to want to tackle the question.
"It's not that it's important or some big deal or anything. I just wanted to know if you had any concerns," Gordo continued, spurring them on and waiting for a reply.
The car pulled up into the Gordon's driveway with ease. The power-steering in his father's new car was evident, but simply an aside to Gordo. It was as if his parents were... dodging the question.
"Go on up and get the house opened up," his father ordered with out menace, but more with a tone of the defeated.
Gordo was reluctant to leave; the sudden change of subject was a trifle odd. As he left the car, he noticed that his parents were seemingly, not moving, or willing to move. It struck him as odd, but he continued and exited the car, walking up the short path to the front door, keys in hand.
They sat there, in the car, discussing and gesturing between one another. There was nothing he could do, he had tried before to listen into their conversations, but somehow they always picked up on his presence. He had learnt quickly because of that, that he would never be a spy.
At that moment of standing in retrospect, the phone rang within the house.
He fumbled with the keys. There would only be one person that would have the audacity to ring at such a late hour.
There weren't many keys on the key-ring, but the one's that were there, were all *very* similar and in a situation of haste, they made for difficult door opening.
He panicked as the rings continued, shoving the front door key into the keyhole and twisting, shoving the door inwards and jumping inside the house. He skidded onto the hall runner and slipped for a few metres down to the kitchen, impacting with a thud into the side of a counter, where a cordless handset jumped and squealed above.
His hand emerged slowly and painfully from the ground, feeling around for a moment before collecting the crème coloured receiver, which promptly clicked once and thrust to his ear.
"Gordo?" Lizzie's voice bubbled, a mixture of impatience and relief.
He mumbled incoherently in reply, still feeling the effects of crashing into the house.
"OH! Mt. Gordon?" she asked again, sounding rather embarrassed.
"Nooo," he muttered, drawing out his response, "it's me... what's up?"
She relaxed again, "I- uhhh- I was just calling..."
"For...?" he continued for her, waiting for the completion of her sentence.
"For no reason- I mean- for toni-" she stuttered hesitantly, jumping, obviously, around the true motive for calling.
"Lizzie, just tell me whatever it *is*, that's on your mind," he urged, in a combination of tiredness and painfulness.
"Okay," she strengthened, sounding confident, "I just wanted to thank you for tonight... I didn't get to thank you... and I really wanted to *thank you*... but... yeah- I- I didn't and..." she trailed off.
They both paused for a moment.
"Thank you... too, Lizzie- *thank you*" he said slowly.
He raised himself off the ground and began to stumble around, searching for the lights, holding the cordless phone to his ear, and waiting for her response.
"I guess... we'll- I mean I'll see you tomorrow, right?" she asked indecisively.
"Yeah- school tomorrow... oh shoot! It's yearbook signing tomorrow, right?" Gordo exclaimed, finding the light switch in the same realisation. The kitchen became illuminated and the assessment of the destruction from the front door to the counter was evident.
"Oh my gosh!" Lizzie jumped, "I've... I'll see you tomorrow," she hesitated, before hanging up and ending their conversation.
"Goodnight," he said to no one; she had gone before giving him the chance to answer her.
There was only one thing bigger than photo day, and that was yearbook day, marking the end of the actual school year. Graduation day was looming and in turn, so was the Summer Ball.
He dropped the cordless phone onto the receiver in the kitchen and began to straighten the hall runner, wondering at the same time, how the next day was going to proceed.
They had actually found something, and he was sure of it, seeing as she had called him 'just to say thanks' only minutes beforehand. Perhaps she was inadvertently revealing something to him.
Did she feel the same way?
He shook his head, picking up a small chair and levelling it all the while. It wasn't possible that this whole fiasco had opened her eyes to anything. What would make the whole 'fake relationship' any better at showing her how he felt than anything else he had done?
His parents walked in the already open door and surveyed the situation but withheld any questions. They believed their son to be an intelligent lad.
"Whatever it is you're doing," his father said.
"We're behind you, one-hundred-per-cent," his mother finished and the pair walked up the stairs in silence.
Gordo smiled and continued to clean up the mess in the hall. He wasn't sure all the time, exactly what his parents were on a about. They always seemed to have loaded questions and double agendas, but this time... he felt he knew *exactly* what they were telling him.
--Gordo--
The gentle rhythm of the car, as it shook slightly on the way home was irritating. He wanted to go to sleep; to relive what had just happened. He'd danced, and ever so properly, with Lizzie McGuire, on her front lawn, in the lateness of the night, under a spell she had cast upon him.
Gordo wasn't the die hard romantic, but what he had engaged in with Lizzie was truly memorable, despite sounding soppy and overindulgent.
And why did it not feel wrong?
Throughout the whole dance he didn't once let his head play politics. His heart led the way, it seemed; and he didn't hate it.
But surely it wasn't the right thing to be doing!
His head had woken up; the true impact of what had happened was soaking in. Not that he had committed any illegal, wrong-doing; he had simply crossed the boundary of friendship... and something else entirely.
His parents sat in the front of the car, his father in the driver's seat, and his mother in the passenger seat, briefly discussing some of the topics they had clearly been conversing over, with the McGuire's. To Gordo, it was odd, that they hadn't begun to grill him with questions concerning his 'relationship' with Lizzie.
There was only one thing to do.
"Are you guys okay with this?" he spoke up; he had decided he wasn't going to get any sleep and had best make use of the time available, after all, his parents weren't exactly often around due to their commitments at work.
"What are you referring to darling?" his mother replied, knowing full well what he was talking about.
"Mo-om... I'm talking about Lizzie and me... what do you think? Are you alright with it?" he forced himself to persist.
There was a pause. Neither of the Gordon parents seemed to want to tackle the question.
"It's not that it's important or some big deal or anything. I just wanted to know if you had any concerns," Gordo continued, spurring them on and waiting for a reply.
The car pulled up into the Gordon's driveway with ease. The power-steering in his father's new car was evident, but simply an aside to Gordo. It was as if his parents were... dodging the question.
"Go on up and get the house opened up," his father ordered with out menace, but more with a tone of the defeated.
Gordo was reluctant to leave; the sudden change of subject was a trifle odd. As he left the car, he noticed that his parents were seemingly, not moving, or willing to move. It struck him as odd, but he continued and exited the car, walking up the short path to the front door, keys in hand.
They sat there, in the car, discussing and gesturing between one another. There was nothing he could do, he had tried before to listen into their conversations, but somehow they always picked up on his presence. He had learnt quickly because of that, that he would never be a spy.
At that moment of standing in retrospect, the phone rang within the house.
He fumbled with the keys. There would only be one person that would have the audacity to ring at such a late hour.
There weren't many keys on the key-ring, but the one's that were there, were all *very* similar and in a situation of haste, they made for difficult door opening.
He panicked as the rings continued, shoving the front door key into the keyhole and twisting, shoving the door inwards and jumping inside the house. He skidded onto the hall runner and slipped for a few metres down to the kitchen, impacting with a thud into the side of a counter, where a cordless handset jumped and squealed above.
His hand emerged slowly and painfully from the ground, feeling around for a moment before collecting the crème coloured receiver, which promptly clicked once and thrust to his ear.
"Gordo?" Lizzie's voice bubbled, a mixture of impatience and relief.
He mumbled incoherently in reply, still feeling the effects of crashing into the house.
"OH! Mt. Gordon?" she asked again, sounding rather embarrassed.
"Nooo," he muttered, drawing out his response, "it's me... what's up?"
She relaxed again, "I- uhhh- I was just calling..."
"For...?" he continued for her, waiting for the completion of her sentence.
"For no reason- I mean- for toni-" she stuttered hesitantly, jumping, obviously, around the true motive for calling.
"Lizzie, just tell me whatever it *is*, that's on your mind," he urged, in a combination of tiredness and painfulness.
"Okay," she strengthened, sounding confident, "I just wanted to thank you for tonight... I didn't get to thank you... and I really wanted to *thank you*... but... yeah- I- I didn't and..." she trailed off.
They both paused for a moment.
"Thank you... too, Lizzie- *thank you*" he said slowly.
He raised himself off the ground and began to stumble around, searching for the lights, holding the cordless phone to his ear, and waiting for her response.
"I guess... we'll- I mean I'll see you tomorrow, right?" she asked indecisively.
"Yeah- school tomorrow... oh shoot! It's yearbook signing tomorrow, right?" Gordo exclaimed, finding the light switch in the same realisation. The kitchen became illuminated and the assessment of the destruction from the front door to the counter was evident.
"Oh my gosh!" Lizzie jumped, "I've... I'll see you tomorrow," she hesitated, before hanging up and ending their conversation.
"Goodnight," he said to no one; she had gone before giving him the chance to answer her.
There was only one thing bigger than photo day, and that was yearbook day, marking the end of the actual school year. Graduation day was looming and in turn, so was the Summer Ball.
He dropped the cordless phone onto the receiver in the kitchen and began to straighten the hall runner, wondering at the same time, how the next day was going to proceed.
They had actually found something, and he was sure of it, seeing as she had called him 'just to say thanks' only minutes beforehand. Perhaps she was inadvertently revealing something to him.
Did she feel the same way?
He shook his head, picking up a small chair and levelling it all the while. It wasn't possible that this whole fiasco had opened her eyes to anything. What would make the whole 'fake relationship' any better at showing her how he felt than anything else he had done?
His parents walked in the already open door and surveyed the situation but withheld any questions. They believed their son to be an intelligent lad.
"Whatever it is you're doing," his father said.
"We're behind you, one-hundred-per-cent," his mother finished and the pair walked up the stairs in silence.
Gordo smiled and continued to clean up the mess in the hall. He wasn't sure all the time, exactly what his parents were on a about. They always seemed to have loaded questions and double agendas, but this time... he felt he knew *exactly* what they were telling him.