This scene wrote itself in my head and clawed at me all day until I set it free. I hope it explains to everyone's satisfaction why Gordo took off so quickly when he heard Lizzie was in distress.

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I'm also glad to see some of you supporting the Gordo/Nicole storyline. I personally like her, and if I can make the readers like her too, then I must be doing something right!

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Thanks for all the comments! Especially to green aura for "God you're amazing." That made my day!

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This chapter may be a tough one for some diehard L/G fans. Please let me know what you think! And thanks for reading.

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What the hell am I doing? Gordo asked himself as he hurried down the block towards Lizzie's house. No doubt the Pavlovian Response had kicked in: Lizzie was in distress, he ran to help. It had been that way since kindergarten. Would some things never change?

But what the hell ELSE am I doing? he wondered. Was he thinking of Lizzie? Or possibly about himself? Could it be he was the worst kind of predator, the kind that lay in wait for the female of the species to be left alone and helpless before swooping in to make the kill? Did he really think now was the appropriate time to declare his love?

Why was he not able to let go of the dream of Lizzie? Especially now, when Nicole was no doubt giving him signs. It had been five months since Lizzie had given any sign. Nicole was practically a sure thing, and he really liked her. Lizzie was a long shot…yet he had to take the chance. He had to know.

How many times have I been over this! he scolded himself, rounding the corner of the McGuire's street. She had kissed him on the rooftop in Italy last June. Surely that was a sign. But after that, nothing. Zilch. Zip. Nada. The Big Goose Egg. What did it mean? Sure, he had neglected to respond appropriately, but she also had not dropped any further hints. Could it be he had misinterpreted that kiss? Or was there still even the slightest chance for them…especially now that Brett was out of the picture? He had to know.

Gordo flew up the path to Lizzie's house, taking the decorative stone pavers four to a stride. In seventh grade he could only do three at a time. Mixed in with all his other crazy thoughts was the realization that he must be getting taller. This made him feel stronger. He knocked steadily on the McGuire's front door.

"Gordo!" Sam McGuire greeted. "Hey, fella! Long time no see."

"Hi, Mr. McGuire," Gordo said politely. "Is Lizzie home?"

"Jo, look who it is. Gordo!"

Jo McGuire came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "Hi there, Gordo. Look at you! Getting taller, I see."

"I guess," Gordo said, trying not to sound impatient. "Is Lizzie home?"

Jo McGuire's face fell as she said, "Yes, she is, Gordo. She's up in her room. I'm afraid she won't be very good company, though. It seems---"

"I know," Gordo said. "I heard all about it."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "News travels fast, doesn't it?"

"I came to see if there's anything I can do to help, to make her feel better," Gordo said. "Even if it's just to listen…"

"Aren't you a sweetheart," Jo said with a sad smile. "Lizzie always used to say what a good listener you were. And so calm and logical in a crisis. I think that might be exactly what she needs right now. An old friend, but a good friend. Go on up, Gordo."

"Be warned, though," Sam said, taking Gordo to the side. "There will be tears. Lots and lots of female tears. Are you tough enough to take it, buddy?"

Gordo nodded. "I'm tough enough," he said, but to some extent this felt like false bravado.

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He climbed the stairs. The upstairs hallway was dark and quiet. He loved the way the McGuire house smelled. Some things would never change. And that was good.

He stood outside Lizzie's door, listening a moment before knocking. He could hear Lizzie talking, but there was no weeping. Pulling himself up to his full height, he knocked on the door.

"No, Mother!" Lizzie called. "I do not want a cup of tea, and I do not want any chicken noodle soup!"

"Neither do I," Gordo said. "It's not your mother. It's me, Gordo. I just want to see you for a minute, Lizzie."

"Gordo?" she asked in surprise. "Hey, come on in."

Gordo opened the door. The room was dark, except for the glowing pink and orange blobs in the lava lamps on Lizzie's dresser. Lizzie lay on her bed, the phone to her ear.

"Hey, Miranda," she said. "You've been so helpful. Thanks a bunch. I'm gonna let you go, though. Gordo's here."

"Gordo's there!"

From clear across the room Gordo could hear Miranda's exclamation.

"Yeah," Lizzie said. "So I'll see you in school tomorrow. Thanks again. Bye."

Lizzie clicked off the phone and lay it on the bed beside her. She looked at her 'old friend but good friend' and said, "Gordo. What are you doing here?"

"I heard," he said simply, stepping slowly into the room. "I heard about you and Brett. I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do."

Lizzie turned sideways on the bed, sighing deeply. "What can you do? What can anybody do? It's over…I'm a fool…and that's that. There's nothing anybody can do."

Gordo had made his way to the bed, but felt strange about sitting down on it. He did anyway.

"I can listen," he said gently. "I can be a friend."

For some reason, these words, which were supposed to help her feel better, made her feel much worse instead. Within thirty seconds she passed from melancholy to the threat of tears to full-fledged bawling in her pillow.

Gordo reached out and put his hand on her back. He felt miserable, and he now knew for certain he had been deceiving both Lizzie's father and himself when he said he was tough enough to take it.

"Lizzie…Lizzie…" he pleaded, his heart breaking for her and with her. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to think of something calm and logical to say.

"I know it hurts now. But it won't always hurt. Every day will get a little easier…" His own words sounded trite in his ears, but it was the best he could do. He felt so inadequate.

"Oh, it's not even that!" Lizzie sobbed. "Screw Brett! That jackass! That prick! I don't care about him. I wish I had never met him. I'm crying because…because…"

Here she turned over, wiped her eyes, and tried to control herself as she continued, "I'm crying because you are my friend, Gordo, and you always have been and always will be, and I've been treating you like crap lately. Ever since I met Brett, it's like…it's like I don't know who I am anymore. And when I look back at how I acted when I was with him…I blew off friends because he didn't like them…I started cursing quite a lot, you might have noticed…and I even wore that ridiculous costume at Halloween because he wanted me to…"

"I heard about that," Gordo said. "How did you ever get past your mom and dad?"

"I didn't," Lizzie said. "I left the house in my old clown suit, you remember the one from the Fright Night party at middle school? Afterwards, I changed. Kate and Claire actually helped adhere everything to my body."

"You're hanging out with Kate and Claire now?" Gordo asked dubiously.

"See what I mean?" Lizzie cried. "Who am I? I don't even know anymore."

Gordo took a moment to let his mind catch up. It appeared the conversation could be going in his favor. He weighed his next words before he said, "It's no secret that Brat and I don't like each other---"

"Brat?"

"I mean Brett. Brett and I don't like each other. Still, I'm not going to say anything against the guy. But I think you're right. I think you're better off without him. Friends…and boyfriends and girlfriends…should help you be who you really are, not make you mold yourself into something you're not."

"Like you, Gordo," Lizzie said with a sad smile. "With you I can always be exactly who I really am."

Gordo returned the sad smile, wishing he knew exactly what to say. At a loss for words, he was at least bold enough to take her hand in his.

Lizzie put her other hand over his, her two hands playing absently with his one as she thoughtfully revealed, "But everybody else in the world is not as accepting of me as you are, Gordo. Everybody else doesn't love me as much as you do. When I meet a guy, I'm afraid sometimes that if I am who I really am, they may not like me. Sometimes I feel like I must have a disease or something. Guys attach on to me---guys like Ronnie, and Brett---then once they get to know me, really know me…it's 'Good bye, Lizzie.'"

She sniffled as she said, "There must be something wrong with me."

"Oh my God, Lizzie! There's nothing wrong with you," Gordo said with certainty as he put his other hand into the mix. "You are beautiful, Lizzie. Inside and out. You don't have a disease. And if some guy can't appreciate you for who you really are, that's his loss, not yours. And besides, not all guys are like that. Decent guys are not like that. I'm not like that. Look how long we've known each other and everything we've been through, and you haven't scared me away yet. I'm still here. And I always will be."

Lizzie smiled at him through her tears. "I know that, Gordo. I know I can always depend on you, and that means so much to me."

Gordo was loving what he was hearing. This was a good sign. However, his hands began to sweat, so he took them away. Yet now, boldly, he placed one on each side of Lizzie on the bed, leaning over her, gazing into her eyes. He wanted so much to kiss away her tears. He leaned closer with every intention of brushing his lips across her tearstained cheeks, but somehow instead his lips ended up directly on hers.

He closed his eyes, holding his lips on hers a moment longer than was perhaps proper under the circumstances, thinking, This feels so awesome…

Lizzie went stiff with shock. When Gordo let her go, she laughed nervously and asked, "What was that for?"

Gordo took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I owed you one," he said. "For Italy. For the rooftop."

Gordo had rendered her speechless. All tears were gone as well. She could only stare at him in surprise.

"Now we're even," Gordo smiled down at her, imagining this must be what it felt like to be intoxicated.

Lizzie nodded, but still could not speak.

In the silence that followed this moment, they could hear Lizzie's mother downstairs calling Matt to watch his favorite TV show. She sounded so far away. Gordo felt he and Lizzie were so alone. He felt good!

So he kissed her again, and this time there was no doubt Mr. And Mrs. McGuire would not approve if they knew what was going on.

Lizzie pulled her lips away from Gordo's and again sounded that nervous little laugh. "And what was that for?" she asked, pulling herself up on the bed into a sitting position.

Dizzied by the kiss, Gordo answered without hesitation, "That…is because I love you, Lizzie McGuire."

He gazed at her, resting his head on her knees, which she had pulled up against her body.

"Oh, Gordo, that is so sweet," she said, smiling weakly. "And you know that I love you too. And I'll always love you. But…"

And there they were, the three most dreaded words known to a lovesick soul…

"…as a friend…"

The balloon Gordo had been soaring in was pierced by her words, rapidly deflated, and sent him crashing to the ground.

"What?" he asked stupidly. Now he was the one in shock.

"You've been so good to me, Gordo," Lizzie said. "For so long. About everything. And you'll always be part of my life, I think. No matter how old we get, or how far away we travel, and that's something that I'll treasure… I'll always treasure…far, far more than…than…"

Gordo stared at her as she continued to babble for some undetermined amount of time about the eternal value of friendship, but the only part he really heard was the last few words, when she said, "And I almost wish the feeling was there…but it's not."

"It's not?" he repeated, dumbfounded.

Lizzie shook her head. She looked like she was going to cry again. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"But it was there!" Gordo said suddenly. "In the fourth grade. You had a crush on me in the fourth grade."

"Gordo. That was fourth grade."

"But…but…last summer, in Italy, when you kissed me. What was that all about? And before that, at that crazy costume party-thing we had here at your house. I've thought it all through so many times and I'm convinced…I'm convinced…"

"I was…I was…I don't know!" Lizzie said desperately. "I was so confused. Then I thought: well, maybe…I wasn't sure. It was like…I can't explain it, Gordo. My feelings were so jumbled. But then the summer, and then school started, and…and…and everything changed…"

Lizzie shrugged apologetically.

"But…but…" Gordo insisted, his mind racing to find some way to turn this around. "How do you know it's not now that your feelings are jumbled? I mean, after all, you're just coming off two months of dating the biggest jerk in school. That has to have messed up your emotional barometer a bit. If things changed, they can always change back, can't they? Maybe if you take some time to think about it…maybe if you let me kiss you one more time…"

He was moving closer, trying to get his arms around her, trying to give her one more kiss, but she wrapped her own arms around her knees and dropped her head, saying "Gordo. Don't."

"Don't?" he exclaimed. "Why not? Lizzie, you've got to give me a chance. Let's just try one more kiss---"

"Gordo," she said. "I already told you I love you. As a friend. Even almost as a brother. And you kissing me just now, it was just…too weird. Almost like a brother…"

Gordo stared at her in bitter astonishment. "UGH!" he cried, feeling sick to his stomach.

"Oh, Gordo! I'm so sorry---"

"You know what, Lizzie?" he said, suddenly getting up off the bed. "Why don't you just stick a knife in my chest while you're at it?"

"Gordo!"

"Twist it around a little…"

"Gordo! Please…"

Now she was crying again, but he didn't care. Forget the knife. His heart suddenly felt so hard, he doubted anything could penetrate it. He walked towards the door, wanting nothing more than to get out of this room. But as he listened to Lizzie's pathetic crying, he felt compelled to turn around and say something extremely mean.

"Well, one good thing, Lizzie. No matter how miserable you feel tonight, you can take solace in the fact that there is someone else who feels a lot worse than you do at this very moment. Me."

He looked at her, hating her as much as he loved her, then said with absolute disgust, "Thanks a lot, Lizzie McGuire."

Gordo left that room without looking back. He bounded down the stairs and through the McGuire's front door, slamming it behind him. The cool November night air hit his face and stung his eyes, which were just now beginning to fill with tears.