To brie: Thank you! Thank you! I think your review on Chapter 3 was the best comment I have ever gotten! This is also one of my favorite LM stories. And by the way, you're not the only one: I make MYSELF want my own Gordo!

To cka…, I laughed at your comment about "Gordo, Miranda, cheery pie, creamsicles, pot. It doesn't get much hotter." Well, yes. It does get hotter! Just give me a couple of chapters to get there.

I know everybody has widely varying opinions and experiences in regards to drugs, and I hope I will not offend anyone with the contents of this chapter. I can only write what feels true to me. I'm not condoning or discouraging anything, I'm just telling a story.

And, oh yes, this isn't strictly a songfic, but the music of Better Than Ezra, my favorite band, is going to figure pretty heavily in the storyline, a bit in this chapter, much more in the next. I figure if I can effectively combine Lizzie McGuire and Better Than Ezra, then I must be some kind of genius---hehehe! It works for me, I hope it will work for you all.

-

The first thing Miranda did was to make sure the house was in order, all doors locked, all electrical appliances off. She sprinkled fish food in her father's aquarium, as she had been requested to do. Then she called her parents, checking in, letting them know that everything was fine, and that she would probably be going to bed early. She also called Mrs. Randolph next door with the same message.

"Geez," Gordo marveled. "For someone about to smoke pot, you're incredibly responsible."

"It has nothing to do with responsibility," Miranda explained. "I don't want us to be disturbed. I think everything's good now. Come on. Let's go upstairs."

Gordo followed Miranda up the stairs and into her bedroom. He had made this trip with her hundreds of times before over the years, but somehow this was different. His heart was still beating faster than usual. He couldn't believe he was going to do this.

Miranda rummaged around in her sock drawer and found the leggings. Unrolling them, the joint fell out on to the top of the dresser. "Well, there it is," she announced.

They both looked at the tiny roll of paper, twisted off at both ends. They were speechless for a moment, then Gordo said, "Do you have matches?"

"I have them here, for my candles. Come on, let's go in the bathroom."

"The bathroom?" Gordo asked. "Why?"

"In case there's a lingering smell from the smoke. I don't want it to get absorbed into my curtains, or my blankets or anything like that. And in the bathroom, we can wash the ashes down the sink."

"Geez!" Gordo marveled again. "You've really thought this out, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Miranda confirmed. "I've been hoping to do this for quite some time. I was just waiting for the perfect moment. And I think this is it."

-

It was strange being in the bathroom. They both realized they had never been alone together in a bathroom. Why would they be? Something new was about to happen here. They kept the door open, with only the light from the hallway falling softly into the small room. That made it a little easier to do this, a little easier to look at each other as they each felt themselves advancing towards a moment of no return.

"Okay," Miranda said, lighting a match. "Last chance to back out."

"I'm not backing out," Gordo said. "Do you know how to do this?"

"I've seen Jeremy," Miranda said. "And I've seen it in movies."

"So have I," Gordo said. "I mean, I've seen it in movies. I haven't seen Jeremy, though."

"Don't worry, you aren't missing anything. He would get all stupid and dramatic. He would do it like this."

Miranda lit the end of the joint, and then leaning against the bathroom counter, she pulled her body back, taking the longest, deepest toke she could. Instantly she was coughing and hacking.

"Randa!" Gordo exclaimed.

"Oh, man!" she spit out. "I guess that technique is not for beginners. I just burned the hell out of my throat. Yaaack!"

"Slow down, girl. We have all night."

"Okay, let's try this again."

They experimented, taking it much more slowly, first one, then the other. The laughed together as they perfected their technique. Miranda got hysterical when some ashes fell on the floor. She wiped them up with a washcloth, then rinsed the washcloth out in the sink as thoroughly as if it was covered with the blood of her latest murder victim.

"Chill!" Gordo laughed. "Feeling a little guilty, are we?"

"Just a little," Miranda admitted.

After a while, when they had burned the joint down about halfway, Gordo wondered, "How much of this are we supposed to smoke, anyway?"

"I don't know, but let's not overdo it," Miranda said. "This should be enough. And then there'll be something left for another time. Give me that thing." She extinguished the flame in the porcelain sink, then ran some water over the basin.

"How long is it going to take for this to kick in?" Gordo wondered.

"You know," Miranda joked, "For a know-it-all, you're sounding pretty pathetic right about now."

"Well, I don't know!" Gordo exclaimed. "I never paid attention in health class. I never thought any information about drugs would pertain to me personally."

"Do you feel anything yet?" Miranda asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a little. How about you?"

"A little weird. Not much. Come on, let me put this back in my sock drawer while I still have my wits about me. Otherwise my parents will walk in tomorrow afternoon and find it lying here and it will be, 'Chiquita! Qué pasa?'"

"Don't want that happening," Gordo agreed as he followed her back to the bedroom.

Miranda put the joint back in the leggings and rolled it up, shoving the roll into the back, then closed the drawer.

"Are you sure it was really out?" Gordo asked. "I mean, there wasn't a spark left in it, was there?"

"Why would you even think something like that?" Miranda demanded in exasperation.

"Because I'm a super cautious type of guy," Gordo answered without hesitation. "I wouldn't want you to burn your house down."

Miranda growled in frustration. Now that he'd said that, she had to take out the leggings, unroll them, and check the joint. Showing it to Gordo, she exclaimed, "Look! Look! It's out! Are you satisfied?"

"Yeah, that looks good," Gordo agreed. "I'm okay now."

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can relax now?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm ready to relax now."

Miranda returned her "stash" to its secret hiding place, and Gordo asked, "Feeling anything yet, Randa?"

"I don't know. Maybe. How about you?"

"I don't know. Maybe we didn't smoke enough."

"I am not taking that thing out again!" Miranda said testily. "Will you calm down already and just let it happen?"

"What do we do now?" Gordo asked. "I mean, where should we be? Downstairs? Do you want to go watch some TV or what?"

"TV's okay," Miranda said. "But there's something better. At least Jeremy always said this was the best thing to do when you got high."

For one unreal moment, Gordo found himself consumed with the idea that Miranda was going to suggest sex. After all, she had pretty much admitted that Jeremy had more than a passing interest, and she had suspected that's what would happen if she ever got high with him.

Could it be that Miranda, despite all her objections to the contrary, harbored a secret attraction to him, Gordo, and this invitation to smoke pot had been a ploy intended to loosen him up and leave him defenseless against her advances? Gordo felt his body go completely numb. Was this the pot? Or had his wild imagination put him in a clinical state of shock?

"Music!" Miranda said.

"What?" Gordo had temporarily lost his train of thought, and felt quite confused.

"Jeremy said the best thing to do was to lay back and listen to music, that the weed really opens up your mind to the music, so you can hear it like you've never heard it before."

"Oh…" Gordo said, catching up. He was beginning to feel that something strange was happening to his mind and body. "But…but what about…the Creamsicles?"

"That will come later," Miranda said. "It takes a little while for the Munchies to kick in. First let's listen to some music. Go lay down on the bed. I'll find us a good CD to listen to."

"Oh…okay," Gordo said as he dutifully went over to the bed. He knew this couldn't be right, this couldn't be good. Why was he taking orders from Miranda? Why did he not object to being ordered to lie down on her bed? Could it be that he in fact harbored a secret attraction towards her, and that he was hoping, as Miranda had put it earlier, that "something might happen"? It was too bizarre to even think about!

He knew the pot was kicking in. He lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, felt his head spinning. He saw Father Gordo the Fat Monk in the whirlwind, waving goodbye as he catapulted up towards the ceiling.

"Oh, this is good!" Gordo heard Miranda saying, as if from a great distance. Some undetermined amount of time later, he felt her bounce on to the bed beside him as at the same time strong guitar music began to reverberate through the air.

Some years ago, Miranda's parents had bought her this new bed, trading in her twin size mattress for a full size. The bed was big enough for two people to lie down on together, but not with much room between them. Gordo was on the right side, Miranda had plopped herself down on the left.

Gordo opened his eyes and saw her up on her knees, facing him. She pushed out her chest, reaching behind her back and up her shirt with both hands. A moment later, she reached up her short sleeves, pulling down her bra straps on either side, releasing her arms from their confines. Then her hand disappeared up the middle of her shirt and pulled her bra out altogether, throwing it on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Gordo screamed, about to have a heart attack.

"I'm getting comfortable," Miranda answered easily, though somewhat confused by his reaction. "Why? What did you think I---?" She started to laugh. "Oh, Gordo! You're so funny! Did you think I was trying to start something? Oh my God! You're so funny!"

"Well, I'm glad you think it's funny," Gordo said sarcastically, feeling his heart pounding in his chest more strongly than he'd ever felt it before.

"What is up with you?" Miranda grinned. "Just because Parker was after your bod doesn't mean every girl you meet wants to rape you. You've got to get over this, buddy."

Gordo listened to her words, and he didn't know if it was the pot or just the plain common sense of what she said, but suddenly he realized that he was an absolute fool to ever think he had to give up sex completely. That was a bit extreme, wasn't it? Yes, he had to get over this. There must be a more appropriate way to handle his overwhelming impulses. He was just feeling a little too weird to work out the details at the moment.

"Randa…" he said, wanting to say something, but he wasn't sure what. He wanted to thank her for opening up his eyes, but he wasn't sure he would be able, at this point, to explain the whole thing in complete, coherent English sentences. Besides, Miranda was talking again.

"I told you before, Gordon," she said. "I don't think of you as anything more than a friend. Never have, never will. Now shut up and enjoy the music."

Having said this, Miranda lay down beside him. Gordo could feel the warmth of her body next to his, her presence. She felt good. Gordo felt himself relaxing into the moment.

What he couldn't feel was the conflict going inside Miranda's own mind. She hadn't been exactly truthful with him, had she? Never have been attracted to him What about everything that happened last November, after Nicole moved away and Gordo was devastated by her loss? Miranda had been there every step of the way for him, the textbook definition of "a friend in need." And in the process, had she not begun to develop feelings for him, feelings that were more than friendship? Of course she had managed to convince herself that it was ridiculous, and she squashed down those feelings until they were almost completely suffocated, almost completely dead.

But could it be that now a breath of life was creeping back in? Quite against her will, she might add. She didn't need this complication now. Everything was going so well. Why was it that when everything was going well, that was when---

"What are we listening to?" Gordo asked suddenly, bringing Miranda out of her deep thoughts.

"Oh, this," she said. "This is a CD Jeremy left here. It's a band called Better Than Ezra. Jeremy's older brother turned him on. Good rock and roll. Can you hear it?"

"I can hear it," Gordo said.

"I mean…can you really hear it?"

"I think I hear it," Gordo said. "What am I listening for?"

"Just lay back and relax," Miranda says. "Jeremy says you'll know it when it happens."

Gordo lay back and relaxed. With the distraction of Miranda removing her bra now well behind him, he at last felt able to relax. And now, at last, as he relaxed, every muscle in his body sinking into the bed, he felt his mind take flight. He felt his spirit take flight.

And then it happened. The world disappeared. He was in a place where nothing existed but the music. He was inside the music, experiencing it from the inside out, as he had never experienced music before, riding on the bass guitar beat, his heart beating to the rhythm of the drums, carried away on a song..

An involuntary chuckle escaped his lips. "Wow…" he breathed.

"What?" he heard Miranda ask quietly beside him.

"It's happened," he said easily.

"I know," Miranda smiled. "I'm there too."

Gordo felt a huge stupid grin break out across his face as he floated away on the music, glad he was here, and glad Miranda was here with him.

What was going to happen next? For once in his life, he didn't know, and he didn't care. All that mattered was that he had this one…perfect…moment…

And Miranda was there with him

-

Not done yet.