A/N: Yikes! Can't believe how many people are getting into this =) Thanks
to all who reviewed, it's good to know I'm not just writing this for me.
--Lizzie--
Was she ready for it? Probably not. Everything about the forthcoming night seemed so... so different from how it was supposed to. Not that she wasn't looking forward to getting dressed up, the dancing and partying; if anything, the very prospect of such things was exciting, in the very least.
Still, she remained feeling uncomfortable, standing and staring at her reflection, swaddled in a set of matching towels around her hair and body. She was still a little wet after having showered, but thought nothing of it. In the mirror she could she the replicated image of her clothing, laid out on the bed.
'Your mom sure knows how to pick a dress...' Gordo's voice floated in her mind. She shook her head.
He hadn't been as eloquent about commenting on how she looked, as she had hoped. Just a sign -anything would have sufficed really- that gave away more to his thoughts, than meets the eye.
She looked at her reflection coldly.
What on earth was she thinking? Did she *want* Gordo to- to like her? Did she *want* Gordo to have said something more? Did she *want* Gordo?
"I always knew girls took a while to get ready before a big night out, but this- this a little ridiculous..." came a voice from the doorway.
She spun around, still quite scantily clad, "GOR-DO!" she squealed, blushing a shade of crimson that even Crayola hadn't yet found.
He chuckled, "easy, easy... I'll just wait downstairs," he replied, raising his hands in defence.
Fortunately for his sake, he closed the door in time, just as a muffled thud against the door emanated from her throw of a pillow.
She sighed, it was a close call, in more ways than one. The tension of the moment had gone however, and she was thankful.
"Didn't he know that it's bad luck to see me before..." she said aloud, stopping in mid sentence, "wait that's weddings". She was thankful, perhaps even more so than before, that no one had heard *that*.
She moved quietly over toward the bed, towelling off on the way. She followed her usual process, fitting her undergarments properly and then, finally, slinking into her new dress. It was undoubted, her mother had a knack for picking the right items of clothing for the right situation. It didn't bother Lizzie that her mother was so good at it, rather, she appreciated it, yet preferred to channel her approval and admiration of her mother in other ways.
After all, there had been that time, where she tried to treat her mother as a 'friend', first and a mother, second. In short, the arrangement did not work out.
One thought led to another; unfortunately, it led back to Gordo. What was he now? She couldn't remember. He wasn't quite a friend and at the same time, he wasn't quite her- her significant other. She was lost, or more correctly, he was lost in her mind.
Of course, he would know *exactly*, he always did, what the answer was to the whole thing, but she wasn't prepared to even test the water in *that* pool.
The trouble, she thought as she began to apply some make-up to her face, was somewhere lying between her hidden signals to him, and his reading of those signals. Countless people had suspected that there was *more* to Gordo and Lizzie's relationship than what appeared on the surface. The whole fake relationship she had concocted, with his help, exploited that very knowledge, even if it was a lie.
But the fact remained, she had tried so hard to fight what she felt, for so long, that whatever feeling she had for him, dug in deeper.
"Lizzie!" Jo called from downstairs, "it's getting really late".
"Coming mom!" she yelled in reply, tilting her head slightly to attach her favourite earrings, the ones her mother had given her on her very first date.
She quickly looked herself up and down in the mirror once more, this time, ready to stop traffic and stopped mid thought. Her body turned to face the direction of her dresser and her hands felt across the top in search of something.
Eventually, after much clinking and knocking over small bottles, she retrieved a frosted glass bottle of perfume, which she consummately showered herself with elegantly. It was, to her knowledge and observations, Gordo's favourite.
"Why did you do that?" she asked herself in the mirror.
"Oh I think we both know," Jo blurted out accidentally.
Lizzie spun around, glaring at her mother, "and what exactly, does that mean?"
Jo shook her head and smiled, "my little baby is growing up!"
Lizzie made a mental of note, of not *ever* under any circumstances, saying those words to her own daughter.
"Thanks mom," she replied flatly.
"Honestly honey, you look-" but Jo couldn't finish her sentence, tears of sheer joy welled in her eyes.
"Mom?" Lizzie asked confusedly, "what's- I don't get..."
Jo removed her glasses and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from Lizzie's bedside table, "you have a *fantastic* night, you hear?"
"I- I will mom," Lizzie replied hesitantly.
Jo opened her arms in the universal fashion that everyone recognised. Lizzie walked semi-reluctantly, semi-joyfully over to her mother and embraced her.
The pair walked downstairs, Jo in lead. Sam and Gordo stood, arms folded, engaged in a conversation that appeared to be of considerable importance. Lizzie rolled her eyes at the thought of what her father had so 'wisely' chosen to educate Gordo upon.
All eyes however, fell upon Lizzie. Gordo literally shook his head in disbelief. Lizzie, on all accounts, was a truly pretty girl; but with a few moments and time to prepare, she transformed herself into strikingly beautiful young woman.
She draped her hand on the banister and slid slowly down, locking her gaze with his. As she dropped from the final step to the floor, they both stood, without words to say to one another.
In her eyes, he wasn't exactly Brad Pitt, but that, for some reason, didn't matter. All those years of staying up late with Miranda, discussing which celebrity they most wanted to marry suddenly seemed incredibly lame. In the flesh he stood, suave in strictly trademark, Gordo-esque kind-of-way. To the average passer-by, he was just- just Gordo. To her- he was perfect.
Aesthetically, he too had reformed and she noticed. His choice of suit was exactly to her liking and she showed it, placing her hands on the folding trim of his jacket, "you look- really handsome," she whispered, forgetting the presence of her parents, who were now, arm in arm, reliving their own memories.
"And you look- absolutely gorgeous," he replied breathlessly.
She looked up into his eyes, "do you mean that?"
"You've got no idea," he answered softly.
They probably would have stayed they way all night had the limousine outside not honked, startling them.
"We-"
"Yeah we better," Lizzie interrupted, swallowing and waving to her parents.
"You two be back soon!" Sam called as they rushed out the door, hand in hand.
Jo slapped Sam on the arm softly, "let them go..."
A/N: Yeah, a wishy-washy mumsy/daughter chapter. Meh. I felt it was constituted. In the show Lizzie seemingly has a very well constructed relationship with her mum, so if anything, I'm only emulating the characters from the show =D
--Lizzie--
Was she ready for it? Probably not. Everything about the forthcoming night seemed so... so different from how it was supposed to. Not that she wasn't looking forward to getting dressed up, the dancing and partying; if anything, the very prospect of such things was exciting, in the very least.
Still, she remained feeling uncomfortable, standing and staring at her reflection, swaddled in a set of matching towels around her hair and body. She was still a little wet after having showered, but thought nothing of it. In the mirror she could she the replicated image of her clothing, laid out on the bed.
'Your mom sure knows how to pick a dress...' Gordo's voice floated in her mind. She shook her head.
He hadn't been as eloquent about commenting on how she looked, as she had hoped. Just a sign -anything would have sufficed really- that gave away more to his thoughts, than meets the eye.
She looked at her reflection coldly.
What on earth was she thinking? Did she *want* Gordo to- to like her? Did she *want* Gordo to have said something more? Did she *want* Gordo?
"I always knew girls took a while to get ready before a big night out, but this- this a little ridiculous..." came a voice from the doorway.
She spun around, still quite scantily clad, "GOR-DO!" she squealed, blushing a shade of crimson that even Crayola hadn't yet found.
He chuckled, "easy, easy... I'll just wait downstairs," he replied, raising his hands in defence.
Fortunately for his sake, he closed the door in time, just as a muffled thud against the door emanated from her throw of a pillow.
She sighed, it was a close call, in more ways than one. The tension of the moment had gone however, and she was thankful.
"Didn't he know that it's bad luck to see me before..." she said aloud, stopping in mid sentence, "wait that's weddings". She was thankful, perhaps even more so than before, that no one had heard *that*.
She moved quietly over toward the bed, towelling off on the way. She followed her usual process, fitting her undergarments properly and then, finally, slinking into her new dress. It was undoubted, her mother had a knack for picking the right items of clothing for the right situation. It didn't bother Lizzie that her mother was so good at it, rather, she appreciated it, yet preferred to channel her approval and admiration of her mother in other ways.
After all, there had been that time, where she tried to treat her mother as a 'friend', first and a mother, second. In short, the arrangement did not work out.
One thought led to another; unfortunately, it led back to Gordo. What was he now? She couldn't remember. He wasn't quite a friend and at the same time, he wasn't quite her- her significant other. She was lost, or more correctly, he was lost in her mind.
Of course, he would know *exactly*, he always did, what the answer was to the whole thing, but she wasn't prepared to even test the water in *that* pool.
The trouble, she thought as she began to apply some make-up to her face, was somewhere lying between her hidden signals to him, and his reading of those signals. Countless people had suspected that there was *more* to Gordo and Lizzie's relationship than what appeared on the surface. The whole fake relationship she had concocted, with his help, exploited that very knowledge, even if it was a lie.
But the fact remained, she had tried so hard to fight what she felt, for so long, that whatever feeling she had for him, dug in deeper.
"Lizzie!" Jo called from downstairs, "it's getting really late".
"Coming mom!" she yelled in reply, tilting her head slightly to attach her favourite earrings, the ones her mother had given her on her very first date.
She quickly looked herself up and down in the mirror once more, this time, ready to stop traffic and stopped mid thought. Her body turned to face the direction of her dresser and her hands felt across the top in search of something.
Eventually, after much clinking and knocking over small bottles, she retrieved a frosted glass bottle of perfume, which she consummately showered herself with elegantly. It was, to her knowledge and observations, Gordo's favourite.
"Why did you do that?" she asked herself in the mirror.
"Oh I think we both know," Jo blurted out accidentally.
Lizzie spun around, glaring at her mother, "and what exactly, does that mean?"
Jo shook her head and smiled, "my little baby is growing up!"
Lizzie made a mental of note, of not *ever* under any circumstances, saying those words to her own daughter.
"Thanks mom," she replied flatly.
"Honestly honey, you look-" but Jo couldn't finish her sentence, tears of sheer joy welled in her eyes.
"Mom?" Lizzie asked confusedly, "what's- I don't get..."
Jo removed her glasses and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from Lizzie's bedside table, "you have a *fantastic* night, you hear?"
"I- I will mom," Lizzie replied hesitantly.
Jo opened her arms in the universal fashion that everyone recognised. Lizzie walked semi-reluctantly, semi-joyfully over to her mother and embraced her.
The pair walked downstairs, Jo in lead. Sam and Gordo stood, arms folded, engaged in a conversation that appeared to be of considerable importance. Lizzie rolled her eyes at the thought of what her father had so 'wisely' chosen to educate Gordo upon.
All eyes however, fell upon Lizzie. Gordo literally shook his head in disbelief. Lizzie, on all accounts, was a truly pretty girl; but with a few moments and time to prepare, she transformed herself into strikingly beautiful young woman.
She draped her hand on the banister and slid slowly down, locking her gaze with his. As she dropped from the final step to the floor, they both stood, without words to say to one another.
In her eyes, he wasn't exactly Brad Pitt, but that, for some reason, didn't matter. All those years of staying up late with Miranda, discussing which celebrity they most wanted to marry suddenly seemed incredibly lame. In the flesh he stood, suave in strictly trademark, Gordo-esque kind-of-way. To the average passer-by, he was just- just Gordo. To her- he was perfect.
Aesthetically, he too had reformed and she noticed. His choice of suit was exactly to her liking and she showed it, placing her hands on the folding trim of his jacket, "you look- really handsome," she whispered, forgetting the presence of her parents, who were now, arm in arm, reliving their own memories.
"And you look- absolutely gorgeous," he replied breathlessly.
She looked up into his eyes, "do you mean that?"
"You've got no idea," he answered softly.
They probably would have stayed they way all night had the limousine outside not honked, startling them.
"We-"
"Yeah we better," Lizzie interrupted, swallowing and waving to her parents.
"You two be back soon!" Sam called as they rushed out the door, hand in hand.
Jo slapped Sam on the arm softly, "let them go..."
A/N: Yeah, a wishy-washy mumsy/daughter chapter. Meh. I felt it was constituted. In the show Lizzie seemingly has a very well constructed relationship with her mum, so if anything, I'm only emulating the characters from the show =D