My inspiration song is Overcome, by Better Than Ezra, on their latest CD, Before the Robots. You don't need to know the song to appreciate this chapter, but if you do, it will seem that much richer.

Thanks for all your comments. And cka...in regards to your last comment...you will not be disappointed!

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It felt like forever. But in a good way.

Gordo knew it couldn't have been forever, or even close to it. He knew the average song ran three or four minutes, and as far as he could remember, they had only listened to three or four songs so far. Three or four songs at three or four minutes each….he knew he should be able to easily do the math in his head, but at this point….what the hell…who cared….

It was good. It was all good.

Miranda felt the same way. She was lying down beside her best friend Gordo, and they weren't talking, and they didn't need to. She knew he was feeling the same way she did. This was incredible. She'd never felt more at peace. She'd never felt more connected. She and Gordo were sharing something they had never shared before.

"What comes next?" she heard him ask.

"What…what do you mean?" she managed.

"What song?"

"I don't know…I put it on….scramble….on mix up…on…" Suddenly she giggled. "Oh man! I am so stoned!"

Gordo laughed too, feeling the grin stretch his face. "So am I…"

They lay next to each other, looking up at the ceiling, laughing together, listening to the music, not knowing what song came next, not knowing anything about what was coming next.

What was coming next just kind of snuck up on them.

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Gordo sighed.

Miranda heard him sigh. She got inside his sigh. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, even more beautiful than this music. Man! She was stoned. She smiled at herself for feeling that everything that happened was so profound. She wanted to hear Gordo sigh again. It was such a beautiful sound…

"Gordo…?" she whispered.

"Hmmm?"

Miranda felt herself shiver as she floated away on his "Hmmm?"

She felt the mattress moving under her, as if an earthquake was about to swallow her up. She realized it was only Gordo turning on the bed. Slowly, she opened her eyes, turned her head and looked at him.

"Randa," he said quietly. "What?"

He had turned. He was lying on his side now, one arm under his head, and he was looking at her. She turned on her side, enduring another earthquake, and lay there looking back at him. The room was dark, but a light from the hallway gave just enough illumination for them to see each other in soft shadows.

"What?" Miranda asked absently.

"I'm asking you what," Gordo said. "Why did you….did you…say my name? Did you? Did you say my name?" It had only happened a moment ago, but he couldn't quite remember.

And it didn't really matter anyway.

Miranda continued to look at him. She continued to gaze at him. He was gazing back at her. This went on a long, long time, until at last Gordo said again, "…What?"

"Your eyes," Miranda said softly. "I've never seen your eyes before. They're so…big. They're so….black…"

"My eyes are not black, Randa."

"Yes, they are. They're black…they're deep…"

"That must be my… pupils…dialated…yours too….deep…"

For a few moments after that, neither of them said anything more, as they continued gazing into the deepness of each other's eyes.

On some level, Gordo knew this was weird. He could never have looked at her this long or this intently in his sober life without feeling uncomfortable and turning away. But he was past that now. And it was wonderful. To be able to look at her like this, to look at her and really see her…

"Randa…" he whispered, though he wasn't sure why.

Suddenly she reached out and touched him.

He drew in a deep breath. She was touching him…but where? Oh…he figured it out…her hand… on his hand… on the bed between them. As it was, they were only about a foot apart, but now they seemed even closer. He felt the pressure of her hand on his. It felt so warm, almost hot. Warm…hot…pressure…

And then he felt something else, in another part of his body that till this very moment had felt so far away, sleeping, maybe even dead. But now there was a sensation, that familiar sensation… warm…hot…pressure…

He drew in another deep breath. No, this couldn't be happening. This wasn't supposed to happen to him anymore. Hadn't he taken such pains top transcend this all too common phenomenon?

"Randa," he managed to say. "You shouldn't be touching me. I wish you wouldn't touch me."

But she did not remove her hand, and she did not look away. If anything, her stare grew more intense. And despite his objections, he also did not move his hand or look away.

Gordo's mind was racing, trying to figure out how this was happening. "Randa," he said. "Didn't you just tell me you never…never ever thought of me like…like that…"

She grinned. "I guess I lied," she said sheepishly.

The music had changed, and the tune was haunting. As Gordo lay there, staring at Miranda, unable to look away, for the first time he heard the words.

"I feel strange...

I feel changed…"

Oh, God! He did feel strange. Stranger than he ever had in his life, and the strangest part of all was that even in the depths of his drug-induced state, he knew the strangeness was not entirely due to the drugs. He knew this was about Miranda. He realized he had never seen her before, never felt her touch before…until now…

And she liked him. And he liked her. He hadn't really known it till this moment, but now there was no denying the truth.

"I feel stra…aaa…ange…

Overcome…

Overcome…by you…"

Miranda was hearing the words too. She also felt strange. She also felt changed, and overcome. Overcome by…Gordo. By her very best friend. Whose eyes were so dark and so deep, whose hair was so unbearably curly…

She found herself letting go of his hand to reach up and touch his hair.

Gordo closed his eyes, steadying himself. "Randa…" he said with difficulty.

"I love…your hair…" she whispered. "I have always loved your hair. And I have been wanting to touch it…to touch it again…ever since first grade when….when…on the playground…do you remember…?"

Gordo felt himself shaking, as the pressure below grew more pronounced. Suddenly he remembered that he had decided…hadn't he? And only a few minutes ago….that it would be alright to think about sex.

But not with Randa. Oh, God, no! This couldn't be happening! Okay, he liked her, but he wasn't ready for this. This couldn't be happening. He reached up with his free hand and grabbed her arm to stop her from playing with his hair, which was feeling altogether too sensuous for him.

Miranda looked at him, wounded. "Gordo…?"

"Please don't…" he said desperately.

"Don't what?" she asked in a small voice.

Gordo couldn't answer, but the words of the song filled the room and everything that was happening in and around them.

"I fell in too deep

But I learned to swim

In an undertow

I sense I'm giving in…"

Gordo felt his heart beating so fast. He felt himself giving in. He didn't want to, and yet so badly he wanted nothing more than to give in. He looked from Miranda's deep eyes to her parted lips. Her lips looked so dry. He realized that his own lips felt as dry as hers looked. He realized with absolute certainty that her lips were parted because she wanted him to kiss her. And then he closed his eyes, and somehow closed the inches between them, brushing his dry lips against hers.

She gasped, and so did he, at the same moment. And in the next moment, it was less like brushing, and more like real kissing, their tongues touching, but just barely, and only for the shortest moment.

But their tongues felt less dry than their lips, so they sought each other's tongues again for relief against the dryness, and the kiss that ensued was like something from another dimension.

"I feel strange…

I feel changed…

I feel stra…aaa…ange…

Overcome…

Overcome…

By you…oooo…oooo…"

Now they were both shaking, as they broke apart, touching their foreheads to each other, laughing lightly, somewhat nervously.

Gordo let out a deep sigh, which Miranda once again found herself floating away on before she heard him snicker and say, "Wh…what planet are we on?"

"Planet Gordo," Miranda answered, never skipping a beat. "Planet Gordo and Miranda. Planet…Gor…Randa. Planet Gorranda."

Gordo laughed. He loved this girl! She was so funny! She was so witty. She was the perfect girl for him. Why had he never seen this before? Why had he wasted so many years on Lizzie, when all this time Miranda had been right here…?

He pulled her close and kissed her again, passionately. Her lips, her mouth, were incredible. He had his hands in her hair, even as she had her hands in his hair. Her hair was incredible, everything about her was incredible. And he wanted her so much. He wanted---he wanted---

It must be the pot, making him so keenly aware of what he wanted. Father Gordo, the Fat Monk was gone, having crashed against the ceiling ages ago. Gordo felt his inner critic, his internal judge, was now as stoned as he was, and not likely to bother him or try to stop him. There was no one here to censor him or tell him what to do. He felt no influence upon his decision-making process other than the persistent throbbing inside his pants.

As he pulled Miranda closer to him, she felt it too and let out a squeal.

"Gordo!" she said in surprise and delight.

"Oh, God, Randa! I feel…"

"I feel it too…" she giggled. "Do you want…?"

He caught his breath, his head spinning. "Do I want…what?" he asked carefully, hopefully.

In answer, she drew her body against his again, pressing into him as she placed his hand inside her shirt. His hand traveled upwards to where her bra should be, and he was suddenly reminded that she was not wearing one. In that moment, he almost completely lost it.

"Randa," he breathed, her boldness and the position of his own hands shocking him into a memory of what it meant to be responsible. "You told me you didn't want to…until you were sure…until you found the right one…."

"Gordo, you are the right one. You always have been. I see that now. I was a fool to waste my time with anyone else. And I'm so glad I never did anything with Jeremy. I'm so glad I waited for this moment. With you. Because this is going to be perfect. You and me, Gordo. It's going to be perfect."

Gordo pulled away from Miranda as he concentrated fervently upon bringing his body under control. This was more than he could handle. He called desperately for his inner critic to return and put a halt to what was happening before he completely lost it.

"Randa," he said, taking his hand out from under her shirt. "I think…I know…I want you as much as I think…I know… you want me. No, no! Don't touch me like that, not now. Wait a minute. We have to talk."

"What's to talk?" she asked, kissing his neck, rubbing his shoulders.

"I wasn't completely asleep in Health Class, you know. I paid attention in the Sex Ed part, and I know that we can't…we can't do this…I'm not going to take a chance with you….we can't do this without…protection…"

"Oh that," she said easily. She kept on kissing him, reaching her hands up inside his shirt, rubbing his chest, and he kept trying to hold her back, because he could feel that he was only moments away from losing it. He was able to hold her off at arm's length, and then he heard the words that chilled him from the inside out.

"But I do have protection," Miranda said excitedly. "Jeremy left a condom in my room, hoping if I ever changed my mind, we would be ready. It's in the back of my underwear drawer. I could get it…you could put it on…"

Gordo was still holding her off, but he had his face pressed against her neck, feeling he could not breath, when Miranda added, in the softest, sexiest voice imaginable, "…or… you know…I could put it on for you…"

As soon as he heard those words, as excited as he had been by the idea of actually having sex, the sudden, real image of Miranda touching him there was more than he could stand.

"No…" he lamented, bracing himself, his entire body tensed, as he felt the inevitable approaching.

"Gordo…?" Miranda questioned, squeezing his arms as she tried to work through the confusion and disappointment of his single "No."

And then, too quickly, Gordo felt the release, the surging, the warmth, the wetness, and he dug his face into Miranda's neck, moaning, "Oh, God…Oh, God…"

For only the briefest moment did it feel absolutely wonderful to be letting go like this, and then in the next moment he felt mortified, saddened, ashamed. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened. And the only saving grace was that, as far as he could tell, Miranda was unaware.

"Gordo, it's okay," she said softly in response to his moans, thinking he was wrestling with his conscience. "We can do this."

"No, we can't," he said miserably, yet grateful that at the moment Miranda did not understand that his "can't" did not simply mean"shouldn't" ; it literally meant "can't."

"Gordo! What's wrong?" Miranda exclaimed, trying to pull closer.

He pushed her away. He sat up on the bed, his entire world flipping itself inside out as he did. He stood up and almost fell down.

"I have to go," he announced.

"Gordo!" she screamed, confused and heartbroken.

"No, I have to go." There was nothing left to do but go. His only thought was to get out of this room and out of this house without tumbling down the stairs.

Miranda in her bedroom, calling his name, was sucked into his past as he walked out of that room. He took the long trek down the upstairs hallway and began to descend the stairs.

All his concentration at this moment had to be focused on not falling down these stairs. He could too easily see himself at the bottom, bent and crumbled in a heap, unconscious, with the paramedics standing over him, saying, "This boy's been smoking weed! And what's this on his pants? Did he wet himself? No! Oh my God! It's…it's…" He heard the imaginary paramedics laughing hysterically as they proclaimed, "Can you believe it? What a pathetic dweeb!"

Gordo was already out the door, allowing himself to be enveloped by the night, hoping the darkness would see him all the way home and into the safety of his own room.

Oh, if only he could get into his house without his parents seeing him, questioning him, he promised himself he would never, ever again smoke pot, he would never, ever again even think the word s-e-x, he would search the universe for the return of Father Gordo the Fat Monk, welcoming him as a long lost friend.

And somehow…somehow…he would find a way to explain all of this to Miranda.

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One more chapter after this, to tie up the loose ends.