Work Text:
*
It is gonna be the perfect picture.
And… if he's being completely honest about this?
Gordo never imagined…
"So! Where is this happening!" Lizzie interrupts his dazed thoughts, skipping up to him in the campus' parking lot and smiling brightly. She's taller now, Gordo realizes. Older. They both are. Her hair has grown out, sunshine-colored, near the middle of Lizzie's back.
"I, uh," Gordon fumbles for words, gripping onto his moped's handles. "I rented out a studio over the arts building. Ya know. Privacy."
Lizzie nods, thoughtfully pursing her lips.
"Good, because nobody should walk in," she acknowledges. "On accident. Right?"
"Right. You're totally right."
She climbs onto the moped when Gordo invites her for a ride, Lizzie's arms squeezing his waist. Gordo's heart starts skipping, too.
*
Deep in August heat, they head up into the stuffy, wood-paneled room.
Gordo checks for any intruders, satisfied with the emptiness. He hangs up curtains over studio-windows.
Privacy and controlled lighting, it's needed.
"Okay, I'm done setting up," he tells her, patting his Bell & Howell 16mm Filmosound Projector borrowed from Coach Kelly. Of course she's still teaching P.E. at North Hills High School. "What's gonna happen is… I'm gonna fire this up and, when you're ready, it will cast an image on your back. I take a few of the best pictures with you, and submit them, and I pass my class with flying colors? That sound good?"
"Not my face?" Lizzie asks, twisting one of her silver pinky rings. She seems bashful.
Gordo shakes his head. "Absolutely not," he reassures, and the semi-concern on Lizzie's expression disappears. "I'm only gonna be looking at your back. By the way, thank you, Lizzie — it's ridiculous how I couldn't get anyone — I know that extracurriculars are starting but — "
" — lucky for you that I'm still deciding between Women’s Chorale and Artists Striving to End Poverty," Lizzie says, smug.
"Very, very lucky, I guess."
Lizzie perks up.
"I get to make candles!" she trills, and sometimes — sometimes all Gordo needs is Lizzie's unwavering optimism to keep him believing. Believing in good. Believing in the excitement over the littlest things. There's no one more beautiful or fun-loving than Lizzie McGuire.
"Well, let's get you back to the candles as soon as possible."
*
Gordo waits, inspecting his Canon EOS D30 camera gifted during last year's Hanukkah. By an aunt he may or may not have living in Rangoon.
One of the studio-doors rattles open.
"Whenever you're ready, Lizzie — you can, uh, lemme know?" he says, clearing his throat and facing away. Damn, Gordo's heart keeps skipping. This isn't helpful. "I'll move the projector where I need it and I'll tell you how to adjust your arms and everything. That sound good?"
"Sounds good…"
Out of sight, Lizzie exhales. It's a bit tensed.
More than anything, Gordo doesn't want her to be uncomfortable. Ever.
"I think… yeah, I'm ready?"
"Lizzie, I kinda need you to be sure. Or I'm not turning around."
"Okay. Ready."
Gordo tries to be, inhaling sharply and heading to the film-projector. He concentrates on switching it on, aiming the focused-on shot. A stretch of highway asphalt covered in lines, and automobiles from the 1960's, and the skyline as pale as Lizzie's naked back, blending in.
"Could you turn off that lantern by your feet?" Gordo instructs her, and she does, kneeling.
Lizzie straightens, tying her golden hair up while it's pitch dark around her.
"Cross your right arm behind you — yeah, easy like that — and cross your left arm over the front and grasp your right shoulder — perfect — "
Gordo snapping for the first photo, and — perfect, she's perfect, WOW — how could it have been ANYONE else posing —
He aims the camera-lens on an angle, titling himself, snapping another.
And another. And another, another, another…
"Should have had you do your rhythmic gymnastics instead of this?" Gordo jokes, and it earns him a softened quiver of laughter running up Lizzie's back. Genuine and heartfelt out of her. He remembers to not cap off the projector, or else it is total darkness in the studio.
"Are you kidding? C'mon, this wasn't so bad," Lizzie says, turning over her shoulder.
Her arms comfortably fold over her exposed breasts, and Gordo professionally keeps his eyes away.
"It's art, Gordo. And I don't mind helping one of my best friends."
"You're sweet, McGuire," Gordo deadpans, but smiles as widely as she does. "Don't worry. You won't be recognized in the photo."
She shrugs. "Do you have time for a frozen chocolate mocha at the Digital Bean?"
Gordo feigns an offended noise, shielding his eyes when Lizzie heads out to dress again.
"For you? Always."
*
Sometimes… sometimes Gordo wishes they could go back to the fourth grade. Knowing what he knows.
"Are you okay, Gordo?"
"Yeah," Gordo murmurs, sitting across from Lizzie wiping off her chocolate mocha-smeared lips with a napkin. "Thinking, that's all."
"About what?" she questions.
"You."
It comes immediately out of Gordo without hesitation.
Lizzie makes a painfully doubtful noise.
"Gordo…"
"No, no, I'm not fooling around. I swear," he insists, their knees clumsily bumping under their table. "Whenever I look at you…" Gordo trails off, shyly, "…obviously when you have all of your clothes on…" Lizzie's cheeks warm, and Gordo insists again, their hands also clumsily bumping, "you're… you're incredible. You haven't stopped being the person I can count on and who I can trust the most, Lizzie."
"Trust?" Lizzie repeats, her mouth twitching upwards. "I let you take nude photos of me and keep them. If that's not trust…"
"And I would never betray it, never," Gordo vows, his fingers slotting hers.
Never.
He wants Lizzie to be his friend, and in his life later on as a more-than-a-friend friend, if it was possible.
Hopefully a little later.
When it comes to feelings, Gordo knows he isn't the greatest at expressing them.
But…
Lizzie's fingertip dabs a little of the whipped topping onto Gordo's nose, and he busts out laughing, stunned. Gordo retaliates with his own fingerful of cold, heavy whipped topping, trying to dab her back, yelling over Lizzie's shriek of "oh my god! no! nooooo!"
It's gonna be perfect. Whatever happens after.
*