Hey people! There is one chapter left after this one. I know, it was a short story. Those of you who reviewed, thank you much. And those of you who read but didn't review, thank you for reading. I hope you're enjoying this story.

I wish I could go back to the very first day I saw you
Should've made my move when you looked in my eyes
'Cause by now I know that you'd feel the way that I do
And you'd whisper these words as you'd lie here by my side
Faith Hill, "I Love You."

The next week, I spend a lot of time hanging out with Gordo. We watch movies, sing along to songs, talk about the past, and even tango in the living room. Between all the fun I was having with Gordo, and my substitute teaching job (which only occupied two days out of the week at the most), I work on another article for The Inform. This one would be much different, though. I'd make sure of that.

"What'll your article be about this week? More on the horrors of men?" Gordo asks me, getting up from the couch and walking to the desk where I'm fervently typing. As he draws near, I quickly minimize the screen and stand in front of the computer to block it from him. "Or how crazy women are to believe men?"

"Nothing of the sort," I sweetly answer.

"Men: The Fungus of Feet."

I laugh. "No!"

He takes a step toward me. "Or maybe you're writing about how much fun you've been having with your best friend?" He bites his lip, and looks hopefully at me, gently placing a hand on my arm. "Can I see?"

I smile as I playfully push him away. "Just wait! I'm sending it to the magazine now, and it should be printed in a week or so."

"Alright." He smiles and heads to his room.

A moment later I knock on his door. He opens it, and I lean up and kiss him on the cheek. He then leans down and kisses me on the lips, softly, putting his hands around my waist and leaning into me. He pulls away with a smile, and I'm left feeling dazed and drowsy. I hear Miranda's key in the door, and Gordo heads to the door to open it for her. I stand in front of his room, with chills.

A week later:

"Alright. Let's just see what you've been up to lately, Miss McGuire," Gordo says, taking a seat on the couch as he opens up the Inform to my article. I sit beside him. He starts to read the article outloud.

This is Elizabeth McGuire again. You may remember my last article, about the differences between men and women, and how men are scum. While most men are scum, I've been blind to the fact that some men aren't. In fact, the men who aren't scum are usually the ones right under your nose. Here is my story, the real story, with the bitterness aside.

"OH, no bitterness? This should be good!"

"Just keep reading."

My best friend, David Gordon, I nicknamed Gordo in first grade because I thought that it was the Spanish word for "skinny", but I was mistaken. We never could remember the day we met, and we concluded it must have been before we could remember. Logical conclusion, I think.

In eighth grade, I kissed him for the first time, on a rooftop in Rome. High school started, and neither of us felt ready for a relationship as heavy as we knew ours would become. It was obvious to everyone that we had feelings for each other. Perhaps it was even obvious to us. However, we ignored those feelings.

Back in grade school, I dated our paperboy, Ronnie. In a few days, he dropped me for some other girl. In high school, I started dating him again. We became engaged a few years later. That ended quickly, though, cause he cheated on me with the same girl he dropped me for back in junior high. I moved in with Miranda, who is my other best friend since forever, and Gordo joined us as well, in our little New York apartment.

A few weeks ago, I thought Ronnie wanted to get back together with me, and I blew off time I was suppose to spend with Gordo to meet Ronnie at a fancy restraint. Turns out that Ronnie just wanted his ring back so he could give it to the girl who had been there all along. Devastation overtook me, as well as an awakening. Through everything, Gordo protected me and cared for me. He told me Ronnie wouldn't be the last guy I'd love. He told me I'm beautiful. He held me close, and I felt so safe.

So, I kissed him, like I've never kissed him, or anyone else, before. He resisted my advancement, after a bit, because he didn't want to take advantage of me. Turns out we fell asleep together with nothing happening except him comforting me as I continued to cry my eyes out.

And since then, I've come to three wonderful conclusions.

Number 3: Find a guy who will sit with you when you're knee deep in Kleenex and your face looks like a punching bag, and can tell you that "Ronnie" is not the last man you'll ever love.

Number 2: Love does exist. The hard part is finding out what love really is, but you know when you find it, even years later.

Number 1: I love you, Gordo. You were the only one for me all along. Please accept my apology for all the hurt I've caused us, and please love me the way you always have…the way I was always too blind to see, or just too scared to expose. I love you.

A/N: Find out how Gordo responds, and what becomes of them next chapter.