Chapter Fifteen: Jealous Guy
Here's the next chapter! Sorry again for the late update, too many things to do in life! There are probably 2 or 3 more chapters left, we're almost to the end. Thanks for sticking with the story, I mean it. Anyway, please read and review, I need to hear what you all think! : ) hm
*****************************************************************
Gordo quickly reached Sam's office, plopped down on the desk chair, and began to connect up the ham radio. He plugged the machine into the outlet, flipped it on, and began tuning its frequency.
All he got was static.
Hmmm . . . must be getting some bad reception. I'll try again a little bit later.
He turned off the radio, sat back in the chair, gazed out the window into the night, and thought, don't worry about it, it's a last resort plan anyway. I'll implement the plan only if I have to, only if things don't go right . . . .
As his thoughts trailed off, he heard Lizzie calling to him from the living room.
"Gordo! Where are you?"
He shouted, "I'm in your father's office, Lizzie! I'll be right out!"
He jumped off the chair and quickly walked into the darkened living room. The only light was from a small lamp sitting next to the couch. He felt a foreboding emptiness in the room, as if it was completely devoid of any life. Maybe, he thought, the feeling of emptiness reflected the emotional distance and tension he was feeling between himself and Lizzie.
Lizzie was sitting on the couch, in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, wrapped in a light-blue bathrobe. Her shoulders were slumped and her head down, as if she was falling asleep.
Gordo quietly slipped onto the couch right next to her and gently tugged on her shoulder. "Lizzie?" He whispered.
"Hmmm?" She slowly picked her head up and turned her sleepy eyes to Gordo.
"Here, I got that medicine for you. You need to take one teaspoon every four hours," he said, as he grabbed a spoon from the coffee table and handed it to her.
"Oh, thanks a bunch, Gordo," she replied in a faint whisper. "Hey, can you do me a favor? I feel really weak, could you pour the medicine into the spoon and feed it to me? I'm worried I'd spill it all over myself."
"No problem." He carefully poured the purple syrup into the spoon, and with a hand underneath, carried it over to Lizzie's mouth and let her gulp it down.
"Blecch!! Ugh, that tasted awful," she grimaced. "Gordo, could you run into the kitchen and get me some water, please, and some herbal tea?"
"Sure, Lizzie, anything you want." He got up and started towards the kitchen.
"Oh, and maybe bring me some chocolate mints. And some cookies, too, I'm feeling famished."
He rolled his eyes in mock-frustration. "Yes, Ms. McGuire, David Gordon butler extraordinaire at your service. Will there be anything else for you? Some truffles to go along with your herbal tea, mints, and cookies?"
She responded to his playful teasing with a blank stare. There was no sign of a smile or a laugh anywhere near her face. "I don't think that's very funny, Gordo."
"Uh, Lizzie, I was just joking, okay? Sorry. Umm, I'll be right back."
"Thank you," she coldly replied as she watched him disappear into the kitchen.
This is just not going well, he muttered as he poured water into a coffee mug and put it into the microwave. But, what'd you expect? You basically called her a shallow loser for going out with Jimmy and then you went and tackled her to the ground in the pouring rain when she was already sick and now you've made her even sicker.
Sigh . . . it's a wonder that she even wants to speak with you still. Hmm, maybe I'll need to go Plan B sooner than I thought . . . .
BEEP BEEP BEEP!!
The beeping of the microwave interrupted his train of thought. He opened the microwave door, took the steaming cup of hot water and then dipped a lemon herb tea bag into it. He put the cup on a tray alongside some mints, cookies, and a glass of water, picked it up and took it to the living room.
One thing's for sure, I sure do feel like a butler right now . . .
He entered the living room to see Lizzie lying on the couch, her head on a pillow, her eyes open, staring blankly into the darkened t.v. screen. She coughed violently several times, her body curled up into a fetal position. Her arms were wrapped around her shoulders in a helpless attempt to keep herself warm.
Even from a few feet away he noticed her body shaking visibly, violently.
Oh my god, she's so sick . . . .
His anger and frustration with her emotional distance and coldness quickly evaporated and were instantly replaced with feelings of intense concern for her well-being. He dropped the tray on the coffee table and went over to the couch, sat right next to her, placed his hand on her shaking body and whispered, "Hey, Lizzie, you okay there?"
Sitting next to her, seeing her in such a vulnerable and weakened state, brought out in him feelings of tenderness and love. He wanted nothing more than to be able to make things all better for her, it pained him so much to see her suffering in this way. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and to warm her up with the loving and compassionate touch of his body; he wanted nothing more than to whisper into her ears over and over again that he loved her with all of his heart and that tonight he was so unbelievably scared and terrified because he thought he was going to lose her forever.
"Ohhh, Gordo, I feel so co-cold," she responded, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.
"You've got the chills, Lizzie," he said. And it's all my fault, ugh, I'm such an idiot, I couldn't do a simple thing like not getting into a fight with her . . . .
Instinctively, he began to rub her arms and shoulders, trying to warm her up. "Listen, here's what I'll do, I'm gonna get you some blankets from upstairs and then I'll start a fire, we'll get you warmed up in no time, okay?"
"Th-thanks, Gordo. You're great," she said. Then, after a brief pause, she smiled weakly and said, "But I still hate you."
He couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Geez, McGuire, even when you're totally sick there's no stopping you from telling me how you really feel! I don't know why, but you're still adorable even when you're hating my guts. . . . "Yeah, yeah, I know, McGuire, you don't have to remind me. Alright, I'll be right back, okay?"
"Oh- okay. Hurry back, please," she said as she closed her eyes and grabbed herself even more tightly with her arms.
He rushed up the stairs, dashed into Lizzie's room, picked up her blanket and some candles and rambled down the stairs. He gently placed the blanket over her body then walked over to the fireplace and started to kindle the fire. In a few minutes, a small but warm fire had sprung to life and was slowly but determinedly warming up the living room.
There! He looked at the fire with a sense of personal satisfaction, then he took a lighter and lit up the candles and placed them on the coffee table.
The living room suddenly took on an entirely new atmosphere. The light from the fire and candles generously sprinkled the room with a warm, cozy, intimate glow. The light from the fire cast friendly shadows all over the room, and it now felt as if there were kind and caring spirits there, watching over them, gracing them with comfort, love, and good will.
He stood a few feet away from the couch, gazing at Lizzie, immobilized with uncertainty. Should I . . . should I go over to her? Or should I just stand back here, at a distance, and give her some space? I mean, she hates me right now, maybe she'd rather me stay as far away from her as possible . . . .
No! He slapped himself on his head. Come on, remember what David told you, you have to get over your fears and your worries and you have to be there for her! It's her life that's at stake, remember? We're fighting for her life!
He walked over, sat besides her, pulled the blanket over her shoulders, and gazed intently at her face. He could feel her warming up from the fire, and her chills were slowly disappearing. She appeared more comfortable and relaxed, her distress slowly melting away.
A soft smile started to form on her lips. With her eyes closed, she muttered, "Ohhh, the fire feels so good. Thanks, Gordo."
"You're welcome, sweetie," he instinctively whispered.
Wha? Waitaminute, did I just call her "sweetie?" Oh man, did I really just say that?
Lizzie kept smiling, then she knowingly opened one eye, looked at Gordo, and said, in a sly, flirtatious voice, "You're sweet. But I still hate you." And she chuckled lightly and then closed her eyes once again.
A broad grin formed on his face. He thought, at least she's starting to joke with me now!
Things were starting to feel more normal and less icy, as the fire was not only warming their bodies, it seemed, it was warming both their hearts as well.
And as he sat there next to Lizzie, he was quickly succumbing to overwhelming feelings of tenderness and affection for her. The next he knew, his left hand, as if it were possessed by some supernatural force, reached over and gently lifted her hair and curled them around her ear.
He was dumbfounded. He didn't mean to do what he just did, he just did it. His body was now under the firm control of his heart and not his head.
He then began to softly and slowly stroke her hair. With his other free hand, he picked up her hand, held on to it tenderly, and began to gently massage and stroke her fingers.
I have no idea why I'm doing this, but just go with it man, just go with the flow . . . .
"Ohh, Gordo, that feels so nice," she murmured happily. A half-smile seemed permanently etched on her face as she let Gordo comfort and take care of her. She was pleasantly surprised with his physical affection, because for as long as they've been friends, he had never been comfortable with physical contact, almost as if he were afraid to touch her.
But, now, in the middle of the night, she had a hard time holding on to her anger and resentment as they seemed to be melting away with each time he stroked her hair, with each time he gently caressed her fingers.
Suddenly, though, against her will, painful memories of the night began to pop back into her head, and she began to replay some of the things Gordo had said to her. She opened her eyes, slowly picked herself up, and sat up on the couch.
She grabbed her spinning head, put her hand on his shoulders to steady herself, then looked into his eyes, and said, softly, calmly, "Gordo? Can I ask you something?"
She had a sad, quizzical look on her face. But, there was no trace of anger, only a look of curious grief.
He was hypnotized by her gaze. They were only a few inches apart, and the tender warmth of her body was sending electric chills down his spine.
"Mm-hhm," he nodded as he gave her hair one last loving stroke. She glanced down and closed her eyes, and smiled, letting him know that she liked his show of affection.
Whew! He sighed with relief. He didn't know why, but whenever he touched her, it felt like he was doing something that required her permission, because he was so not used to being this way with her, this was entirely new to him, and to her. And he was desperate from signs from her telling her it was okay, signs telling him that she *wanted* him to touch her.
She peered carefully into his eyes. "Gordo, did you . . . did you mean, you know, those things you said about me?"
He grimaced. He hated being reminded of the pain that he had inflicted on his best friend, on the girl he loved. He wanted to completely erase the awful earlier chain of events from his consciousness.
But, clearly, Lizzie hadn't forgotten.
And what made this even worse was that he knew that he had said those things to her twice, in two different lifetimes, in two different worlds.
He turned away from her and stared mindlessly at the candle on the coffee table. He looked at dancing, flickering candle light, summoned up his courage, then returned his gaze back to Lizzie.
He placed his hand on her hand. "Lizzie, I don't know what the future brings, but I know one thing for certain. For the rest of my life I'm always going to regret that I said things to you that hurt you deeply, even though I didn't mean it, not one word of it. I know I've said this a million times tonight, but I hope one day you can understand just how sorry I am for everything I said, for everything I did tonight."
"Oh, Gordo . . . " she whispered. She could see his eyes tear up, and she reached over, held his face with her hand, and gave him a look of forgiveness.
"I- I believe you, I do, but, what I want to know, is, why-why did you say those things then? She said, her voice quivering. "Oh my god, Gordo, those were the most awful things I've ever heard, and to hear them from you . . . oh god, it hurt so much . . . ." Her voice trailed off into a whisper and he barely was able to hear her.
As soon as she finished her sentence, she buried her face in her hands and quietly weeped.
He winced again, as he felt and absorbed like a sponge all of her hurt, all of her feelings of betrayal, all of her feelings of sorrow.
Okay, you've got to tell her, NOW. Now's the time, do it, tell her how you feel . . . .
"Lizzie, alright, here's the truth."
She looked up at Gordo, tears streaming down her face.
On instinct, he reached over and with his fingertips, carefully brushed away the teardrops from her cheeks.
She shivered with his touch.
She felt it.
He felt it.
It was a response of intimacy, of reciprocal longing.
"Wha- what is it, Gordo? What do you want to tell me?" She whispered.
"Lizzie, you know that song, by John Lennon, you know, the one we both really like?"
She stared at him quizzically. "Of course, I do! I adore that song . . . but, what does that have to do with us?"
"You know how that song goes, right?" He started to hum the song's lyrics. "I was dreaming of the past, and my heart was beating fast . . . ."
She smiled, then began to sing the next line. "and I began to lose control, I began to lose control . . . ."
He returned her smile with one of his own, took a deep breath, then began to hum the next line. "I didn't mean to hurt you . . . ."
A sense of recognition and understanding began to come over her as she whispered the next line. "I'm sorry that I made you cry . . . . "
Okay, this is it . . . he stroked her hair again and let his hand fall delicately down her cheeks, brushing them affectionately. Her cheeks, flushed already from her fever, were turning even a brighter shade of crimson.
He closed his eyes, unable to look into her face anymore and hummed, "I didn't want to hurt you, I'm just a . . . jealous guy."
"Ohhh, Gordo . . . ."
He continued. "I was feeling so insecure, you might not love me anymore, I was shivering inside, I was shivering inside . . . ."
He paused to open his eyes and to gauge Lizzie's reaction. Newborn tears were gracefully sliding down her cheeks and she returned Gordo's gaze with a curious empathy which told him what he was saying was touching her heart deeply.
Again, instinctively, he leaned into her and kissed her lightly on her cheek.
Then he finished humming the lyrics to the song. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Lizzie, I'm sorry that I made you cry, I didn't want to hurt you, it's just that, it's just that I'm a jealous guy . . . ."
He paused to let himself absorb the amazing reality of the situation - he was finally telling her how he felt about her. He breathed deeply, then he leaned into her again. He ran his fingers down her face then he kissed her lips; and before she could respond, he embraced her tightly and whispered into her ear, "I'm so sorry, Lizzie, I said all those things to you because I was jealous of you and Jimmy, because . . . well, because, I - I love you, Lizzie McGuire, because I'm so in love with you . . . . "
Here's the next chapter! Sorry again for the late update, too many things to do in life! There are probably 2 or 3 more chapters left, we're almost to the end. Thanks for sticking with the story, I mean it. Anyway, please read and review, I need to hear what you all think! : ) hm
*****************************************************************
Gordo quickly reached Sam's office, plopped down on the desk chair, and began to connect up the ham radio. He plugged the machine into the outlet, flipped it on, and began tuning its frequency.
All he got was static.
Hmmm . . . must be getting some bad reception. I'll try again a little bit later.
He turned off the radio, sat back in the chair, gazed out the window into the night, and thought, don't worry about it, it's a last resort plan anyway. I'll implement the plan only if I have to, only if things don't go right . . . .
As his thoughts trailed off, he heard Lizzie calling to him from the living room.
"Gordo! Where are you?"
He shouted, "I'm in your father's office, Lizzie! I'll be right out!"
He jumped off the chair and quickly walked into the darkened living room. The only light was from a small lamp sitting next to the couch. He felt a foreboding emptiness in the room, as if it was completely devoid of any life. Maybe, he thought, the feeling of emptiness reflected the emotional distance and tension he was feeling between himself and Lizzie.
Lizzie was sitting on the couch, in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, wrapped in a light-blue bathrobe. Her shoulders were slumped and her head down, as if she was falling asleep.
Gordo quietly slipped onto the couch right next to her and gently tugged on her shoulder. "Lizzie?" He whispered.
"Hmmm?" She slowly picked her head up and turned her sleepy eyes to Gordo.
"Here, I got that medicine for you. You need to take one teaspoon every four hours," he said, as he grabbed a spoon from the coffee table and handed it to her.
"Oh, thanks a bunch, Gordo," she replied in a faint whisper. "Hey, can you do me a favor? I feel really weak, could you pour the medicine into the spoon and feed it to me? I'm worried I'd spill it all over myself."
"No problem." He carefully poured the purple syrup into the spoon, and with a hand underneath, carried it over to Lizzie's mouth and let her gulp it down.
"Blecch!! Ugh, that tasted awful," she grimaced. "Gordo, could you run into the kitchen and get me some water, please, and some herbal tea?"
"Sure, Lizzie, anything you want." He got up and started towards the kitchen.
"Oh, and maybe bring me some chocolate mints. And some cookies, too, I'm feeling famished."
He rolled his eyes in mock-frustration. "Yes, Ms. McGuire, David Gordon butler extraordinaire at your service. Will there be anything else for you? Some truffles to go along with your herbal tea, mints, and cookies?"
She responded to his playful teasing with a blank stare. There was no sign of a smile or a laugh anywhere near her face. "I don't think that's very funny, Gordo."
"Uh, Lizzie, I was just joking, okay? Sorry. Umm, I'll be right back."
"Thank you," she coldly replied as she watched him disappear into the kitchen.
This is just not going well, he muttered as he poured water into a coffee mug and put it into the microwave. But, what'd you expect? You basically called her a shallow loser for going out with Jimmy and then you went and tackled her to the ground in the pouring rain when she was already sick and now you've made her even sicker.
Sigh . . . it's a wonder that she even wants to speak with you still. Hmm, maybe I'll need to go Plan B sooner than I thought . . . .
BEEP BEEP BEEP!!
The beeping of the microwave interrupted his train of thought. He opened the microwave door, took the steaming cup of hot water and then dipped a lemon herb tea bag into it. He put the cup on a tray alongside some mints, cookies, and a glass of water, picked it up and took it to the living room.
One thing's for sure, I sure do feel like a butler right now . . .
He entered the living room to see Lizzie lying on the couch, her head on a pillow, her eyes open, staring blankly into the darkened t.v. screen. She coughed violently several times, her body curled up into a fetal position. Her arms were wrapped around her shoulders in a helpless attempt to keep herself warm.
Even from a few feet away he noticed her body shaking visibly, violently.
Oh my god, she's so sick . . . .
His anger and frustration with her emotional distance and coldness quickly evaporated and were instantly replaced with feelings of intense concern for her well-being. He dropped the tray on the coffee table and went over to the couch, sat right next to her, placed his hand on her shaking body and whispered, "Hey, Lizzie, you okay there?"
Sitting next to her, seeing her in such a vulnerable and weakened state, brought out in him feelings of tenderness and love. He wanted nothing more than to be able to make things all better for her, it pained him so much to see her suffering in this way. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and to warm her up with the loving and compassionate touch of his body; he wanted nothing more than to whisper into her ears over and over again that he loved her with all of his heart and that tonight he was so unbelievably scared and terrified because he thought he was going to lose her forever.
"Ohhh, Gordo, I feel so co-cold," she responded, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.
"You've got the chills, Lizzie," he said. And it's all my fault, ugh, I'm such an idiot, I couldn't do a simple thing like not getting into a fight with her . . . .
Instinctively, he began to rub her arms and shoulders, trying to warm her up. "Listen, here's what I'll do, I'm gonna get you some blankets from upstairs and then I'll start a fire, we'll get you warmed up in no time, okay?"
"Th-thanks, Gordo. You're great," she said. Then, after a brief pause, she smiled weakly and said, "But I still hate you."
He couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Geez, McGuire, even when you're totally sick there's no stopping you from telling me how you really feel! I don't know why, but you're still adorable even when you're hating my guts. . . . "Yeah, yeah, I know, McGuire, you don't have to remind me. Alright, I'll be right back, okay?"
"Oh- okay. Hurry back, please," she said as she closed her eyes and grabbed herself even more tightly with her arms.
He rushed up the stairs, dashed into Lizzie's room, picked up her blanket and some candles and rambled down the stairs. He gently placed the blanket over her body then walked over to the fireplace and started to kindle the fire. In a few minutes, a small but warm fire had sprung to life and was slowly but determinedly warming up the living room.
There! He looked at the fire with a sense of personal satisfaction, then he took a lighter and lit up the candles and placed them on the coffee table.
The living room suddenly took on an entirely new atmosphere. The light from the fire and candles generously sprinkled the room with a warm, cozy, intimate glow. The light from the fire cast friendly shadows all over the room, and it now felt as if there were kind and caring spirits there, watching over them, gracing them with comfort, love, and good will.
He stood a few feet away from the couch, gazing at Lizzie, immobilized with uncertainty. Should I . . . should I go over to her? Or should I just stand back here, at a distance, and give her some space? I mean, she hates me right now, maybe she'd rather me stay as far away from her as possible . . . .
No! He slapped himself on his head. Come on, remember what David told you, you have to get over your fears and your worries and you have to be there for her! It's her life that's at stake, remember? We're fighting for her life!
He walked over, sat besides her, pulled the blanket over her shoulders, and gazed intently at her face. He could feel her warming up from the fire, and her chills were slowly disappearing. She appeared more comfortable and relaxed, her distress slowly melting away.
A soft smile started to form on her lips. With her eyes closed, she muttered, "Ohhh, the fire feels so good. Thanks, Gordo."
"You're welcome, sweetie," he instinctively whispered.
Wha? Waitaminute, did I just call her "sweetie?" Oh man, did I really just say that?
Lizzie kept smiling, then she knowingly opened one eye, looked at Gordo, and said, in a sly, flirtatious voice, "You're sweet. But I still hate you." And she chuckled lightly and then closed her eyes once again.
A broad grin formed on his face. He thought, at least she's starting to joke with me now!
Things were starting to feel more normal and less icy, as the fire was not only warming their bodies, it seemed, it was warming both their hearts as well.
And as he sat there next to Lizzie, he was quickly succumbing to overwhelming feelings of tenderness and affection for her. The next he knew, his left hand, as if it were possessed by some supernatural force, reached over and gently lifted her hair and curled them around her ear.
He was dumbfounded. He didn't mean to do what he just did, he just did it. His body was now under the firm control of his heart and not his head.
He then began to softly and slowly stroke her hair. With his other free hand, he picked up her hand, held on to it tenderly, and began to gently massage and stroke her fingers.
I have no idea why I'm doing this, but just go with it man, just go with the flow . . . .
"Ohh, Gordo, that feels so nice," she murmured happily. A half-smile seemed permanently etched on her face as she let Gordo comfort and take care of her. She was pleasantly surprised with his physical affection, because for as long as they've been friends, he had never been comfortable with physical contact, almost as if he were afraid to touch her.
But, now, in the middle of the night, she had a hard time holding on to her anger and resentment as they seemed to be melting away with each time he stroked her hair, with each time he gently caressed her fingers.
Suddenly, though, against her will, painful memories of the night began to pop back into her head, and she began to replay some of the things Gordo had said to her. She opened her eyes, slowly picked herself up, and sat up on the couch.
She grabbed her spinning head, put her hand on his shoulders to steady herself, then looked into his eyes, and said, softly, calmly, "Gordo? Can I ask you something?"
She had a sad, quizzical look on her face. But, there was no trace of anger, only a look of curious grief.
He was hypnotized by her gaze. They were only a few inches apart, and the tender warmth of her body was sending electric chills down his spine.
"Mm-hhm," he nodded as he gave her hair one last loving stroke. She glanced down and closed her eyes, and smiled, letting him know that she liked his show of affection.
Whew! He sighed with relief. He didn't know why, but whenever he touched her, it felt like he was doing something that required her permission, because he was so not used to being this way with her, this was entirely new to him, and to her. And he was desperate from signs from her telling her it was okay, signs telling him that she *wanted* him to touch her.
She peered carefully into his eyes. "Gordo, did you . . . did you mean, you know, those things you said about me?"
He grimaced. He hated being reminded of the pain that he had inflicted on his best friend, on the girl he loved. He wanted to completely erase the awful earlier chain of events from his consciousness.
But, clearly, Lizzie hadn't forgotten.
And what made this even worse was that he knew that he had said those things to her twice, in two different lifetimes, in two different worlds.
He turned away from her and stared mindlessly at the candle on the coffee table. He looked at dancing, flickering candle light, summoned up his courage, then returned his gaze back to Lizzie.
He placed his hand on her hand. "Lizzie, I don't know what the future brings, but I know one thing for certain. For the rest of my life I'm always going to regret that I said things to you that hurt you deeply, even though I didn't mean it, not one word of it. I know I've said this a million times tonight, but I hope one day you can understand just how sorry I am for everything I said, for everything I did tonight."
"Oh, Gordo . . . " she whispered. She could see his eyes tear up, and she reached over, held his face with her hand, and gave him a look of forgiveness.
"I- I believe you, I do, but, what I want to know, is, why-why did you say those things then? She said, her voice quivering. "Oh my god, Gordo, those were the most awful things I've ever heard, and to hear them from you . . . oh god, it hurt so much . . . ." Her voice trailed off into a whisper and he barely was able to hear her.
As soon as she finished her sentence, she buried her face in her hands and quietly weeped.
He winced again, as he felt and absorbed like a sponge all of her hurt, all of her feelings of betrayal, all of her feelings of sorrow.
Okay, you've got to tell her, NOW. Now's the time, do it, tell her how you feel . . . .
"Lizzie, alright, here's the truth."
She looked up at Gordo, tears streaming down her face.
On instinct, he reached over and with his fingertips, carefully brushed away the teardrops from her cheeks.
She shivered with his touch.
She felt it.
He felt it.
It was a response of intimacy, of reciprocal longing.
"Wha- what is it, Gordo? What do you want to tell me?" She whispered.
"Lizzie, you know that song, by John Lennon, you know, the one we both really like?"
She stared at him quizzically. "Of course, I do! I adore that song . . . but, what does that have to do with us?"
"You know how that song goes, right?" He started to hum the song's lyrics. "I was dreaming of the past, and my heart was beating fast . . . ."
She smiled, then began to sing the next line. "and I began to lose control, I began to lose control . . . ."
He returned her smile with one of his own, took a deep breath, then began to hum the next line. "I didn't mean to hurt you . . . ."
A sense of recognition and understanding began to come over her as she whispered the next line. "I'm sorry that I made you cry . . . . "
Okay, this is it . . . he stroked her hair again and let his hand fall delicately down her cheeks, brushing them affectionately. Her cheeks, flushed already from her fever, were turning even a brighter shade of crimson.
He closed his eyes, unable to look into her face anymore and hummed, "I didn't want to hurt you, I'm just a . . . jealous guy."
"Ohhh, Gordo . . . ."
He continued. "I was feeling so insecure, you might not love me anymore, I was shivering inside, I was shivering inside . . . ."
He paused to open his eyes and to gauge Lizzie's reaction. Newborn tears were gracefully sliding down her cheeks and she returned Gordo's gaze with a curious empathy which told him what he was saying was touching her heart deeply.
Again, instinctively, he leaned into her and kissed her lightly on her cheek.
Then he finished humming the lyrics to the song. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Lizzie, I'm sorry that I made you cry, I didn't want to hurt you, it's just that, it's just that I'm a jealous guy . . . ."
He paused to let himself absorb the amazing reality of the situation - he was finally telling her how he felt about her. He breathed deeply, then he leaned into her again. He ran his fingers down her face then he kissed her lips; and before she could respond, he embraced her tightly and whispered into her ear, "I'm so sorry, Lizzie, I said all those things to you because I was jealous of you and Jimmy, because . . . well, because, I - I love you, Lizzie McGuire, because I'm so in love with you . . . . "