Remember Maine [1/?]
Title: Remember Maine (Part 1/?)
Pairing: Girl!Gabe/ William, Girl!Suarez with Guy!Vicky-T
Rating: PG
Characters: Girl!Gabe, Girl!Suarez, Girl!Ryland, Girl!Nate, Guy!Victoria and normal William and normal Mike Carden and normal Courtney Beckett :D Plus OCs who are: a crazy uncle, girl!Nate’s parents and brother.
Author: Me (xmexandxyoux) and Rachel.
Disclaimer: GABE SAPORTA IS A BOY.
Summary:"Oh, what's the use? I thought. I'm just falling for this girl I met less than twelve hours ago. "
Prologue:
Graduation day: I should be psyched, right? Wrong. In fact, I was dreading the moment my name would be called. I was quite frankly, afraid. Afraid of the future, afraid of what would happen to my friendships, my band; my best friends. I desperately wished we didn’t have to graduate.
Everyone cheered and threw up their caps. I stared blankly and took mine of. I held it in my hands, staring at it in dismay. I let it fall out of my hands. Well, that’s it, I guess.
---
I stepped up to get my diploma; that’s it? Four years in this dump and all I have to show for it is a piece of fancy paper with my name on it? I sighed and dutifully took my seat next to Sofia Carter. I could spot Courtney easily; she was the most (pretty much the only one) flamboyantly dressed person, waving and trying to maneuver her bulky ever-present camera while she waved. I reluctantly gave her a half smile, knowing she’d use it as a photo-op.
---
Gabbie’s P.O.V.
We stumbled off the train and onto the platform as if we’d just woken up. Vic tossed me my backpack, which I caught, staggering back a little from the weight.
"Natalie!" Someone squeed. I looked up to see Natalie’s Uncle Arnold Marge nearly strangling her in a bear hug. Natalie was his favorite niece . . . And his only niece. We filed into Uncle Marge’s big polka-dotted eighties Volkswagen, the bumper of which was clad in stickers with various expired phrases like "Make Love Not War." It seemed Uncle Marge had gotten loopier since the last time we had seen him, when he came to visit last Christmas. I was forced to be squashed between Vic and Natalie’s obnoxious devil brother, Dexter, or to walk all the way to Uncle Marge’s. I chose the former. Just my luck.
William’s P.O.V.
It’s quite unfortunate when the weather outside clashes with the way you feel inside. Moping on the stoop in the sunny summer weather isn’t nearly as effective as moping on the stoop on a day with overcast clouds. Though I figured I might as well make use of Mister Sunshine and try and get a tan. I had only just stripped off my vintage The Doors T-shirt when my neighbor, Mr. Marge pulls up in his unmistakable vintage Volkswagen eight-seater bus, followed by a cab.
"Hello, Billiam!" He called cheerily from the driver’s seat. I’d told him a thousand times to call me either Bill or William, but he insists on calling me a strange combination of the two. Why were there so many people? Does Arnold actually have friends? Oh, yeah. Courty’d told me his relatives were visiting from Vermont. (Courtney likes the guy; I think he belongs in an asylum).
The people piled out; a man and a woman around my parents’ age, a mousy-looking nine-year-old boy, Arnold’s niece, a bunch of other teenagers and a girl who looked just like she’d stepped off the runway of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. (That is, if you exchange the lingerie for neon colors of cotton and denim.) Long, slender limbs that indicated her ethnicity was south of the equator. She was sporting a purple hoodie even though it was above ninety degrees outside and a fushia tee peeked out from underneath. She was also wearing yellow skinny jeans (the skinny jeans to put all skinny jeans to shame) and lime green Nikes. Her curly black ringlets bounced against her back as she yanked a backpack from the cab. Oh, shit.
Gabbie's P.O.V.
"Hey, Vic!" I called from across the vast green lawn. "Think fast!" I threw his old football at his face, and he caught it at the last second.
"Nice arm!" He said, impressed. I beamed. Noticing Uncle Marge walking to the house next door with his arm securely around Natalie (as if to ensure she wouldn’t run away?), my smile broadened and I followed them. He was leading her to a boy our age, with brown hair that curled around his ears and slightly swept into his hazel eyes. His skin reminded me of French Vanilla ice cream. Delicious. He was sitting on the front stoop, staring blankly at . . . me.
"Hiya, Billiam!" Uncle Marge greeted the boy with a slightly too large smile. I held back a laugh, biting my lower lip. Oh, Uncle Marge . . .
"For the last time, old man, it’s either William or Bill, not both." He said, scowling and standing up.
"You remember my niece, Natalie, don’t you?" Uncle Marge asked. Bill/William/Billiam sighed tiredly.
"Yes, Arnold. I’ve known her since I was six."
"Oh. Yeah. Hasn’t she grown into a fine young woman?" He asked, winking. I couldn’t hold back my giggle this time. Natalie blushed and slapped me on the arm. "Oh, and this is her friend, Gabriella Saporta."
"Nice to meet you," He said. Was that a "Nice to meet you," or a "Nice to meet you, "?
"Does your hair naturally do that, or do you use some sort of gel? And how do you keep your skin looking so soft?" I burst out; I was just itching to touch his skin.
"Uh." Is it too early in this relationship to exchange beauty tips?
"Sorry. Gabbie’s just very . . . " Natalie covered.
"Blunt." I finished, nodding.
"Yeah." Natalie agreed. I had to stuff my hands in my pockets to prevent my body from acting before my brain and rubbing Bill/William/Billiam’s acne-free, creamy, pale face. They don’t have boys like this back in Burlington . . .
William's P.O.V.
"Hey, Gabbie! Where do you want me to put Delilah?" The boy called from several feet over, holding a guitar case plastered with band stickers.
"Delilah?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Her guitar." Natalie offered by way of explanation.
"Well, I’ll leave you kids alone." Arnold said suggestively, with another of those creepy winks, before he waddled away.
"Just put her on the stairs." Gabriella yelled to the boy.
"Your . . . guitar?"
"We’re sort of trying to start this band . . . thing." Gabbie explained.
"You gotta name?" Gabbie and Natalie looked confused. "You know, for your band?" Gabbie and Natalie shared a knowing smile.
"Cobra . . . Starfish." Gabbie said with a flourish. Blink, blink. Inside joke? A slight awkwardness settled. "Awkward humming." Gabbie laughed and hummed some old rock song that definitely was not meant to be hummed.
"Natalie?!" A little redheaded boy shouted. "I’m so tired, will you carry my stuff?"
"Carry your own bags!" Gabbie called back. "Little cabron!" Natalie smiled and shook her head.
"I’m gonna go help him."
"‘Kay." Natalie ran over to her brother. Gabbie muttered something in Spanish.
Gabbie’s P.O.V.
The door opened behind Wiliam and his mirror image stepped out in pink short-shorts and a shrunken teal tank top. On anyone else, it would have looked, "Did you get lost on your way to Beverly Hills?" but on her, it worked. She looked exactly like William, except her features were more defined and she was obviously a girl.
"Hey, I’m goin’ to Steven’s." She stopped and her eyes flitted over me for a second. "Who’s this, Bilvey?" Her eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, you’re Arnold’s niece’s friend, right?" I nodded. "I’m Courtney." She smiled kindly. "Now you kids have fun." She whispered something stealthily in William’s ear and she darted away, flip-flops slapping the pavement, before William could slap her playfully. "Nice meeting you!"
"I’d better go help with the bags. Why don’t you stop by later; we’re having a barbeque by the pool tonight. Bring Courtney, bring a guest."
"Sure, Mike, Courtney and I will be there." I grinned.
"Great. See ya’ later, then." I replied, eyes venturing below his face for the first time. Oh my . . . wow. I gaped, blinking to make sure it was real. Yup, William Beckett’s lovely torso was real. Wow. I hadn’t realized I’d been staring until William said "Perfect," and I thought he was describing himself.
"Huh? Oh yeah. So bye."
---
William’s P.O.V.
After Arnold let me in, and after I grimaced at his unfortunate choice of footwear: black socks and white tennis shoes, I stepped into the backyard self-consciously. I was stag, because Courtney was cooking up 'something special' and Mike, as usual, was late. Although I expected Mike would have been the first one there; hot girls and free food, all he could ever want. I spotted Gabbie sitting on a pink picnic table in a bikini top and boy shorts. I looked up to catch her eye, when I was almost assaulted by a maternal type holding a glass pitcher of pink lemonade. Thankfully, she missed. Gabbie waved, and just in time, Mike sauntered into the backyard.
Gabbie's P.O.V.
"Mom!" Natalie called out to her mother, who had nearly dyed William's clean, white, tight shirt pink. I stifled a laugh at Mrs. Novarro's tendency to be clumsy (why had we even let her hold a full pitcher in the first place?) and caught William's eye. He raised his hand in a shy greeting and I was about to go over and give him a proper greeting when . . . splash! That little cabron, Dexter! He pushed me into the pool! The water was frigid, and worst of all, I'd been wearing my favorite hoodie!
"You are so dead!" I shrieked. I pulled off my drenched hoodie and slapped it on the tiled pool deck.
"Whoo hoo!" Vic yelled, running toward the pool. "Cannonbaaaaaaaaaaalllll! SPLASH! I laughed and before long there were more splashes as people decided to abandon their dignity and just have fun.
William's P.O.V.
I wasn't sure what to think of all the stares directed toward me as I pulled off my shirt and jumped in. Especially Gabbie's. I should work out more. I’ m too pale. Why am I so pale? Stupid genetics. I wonder if Gabbie thinks I'm too pale. Ugh, stupid hair. I should shave my head. No, I shouldn't; I'd be called Britney for weeks. What's on my leg? Is it a shark? I hate sharks!
"AAHH!" I screamed and spun around. Gabbie surfaced with a grin on her face and began giggling.
"What? Did you think I was a shark or something?" She asked playfully. I blinked. How did she know?
". . . Maybe . . . " She laughed again. She had a great laugh; so cheerful and animated. Dammit. Not again! I can't let this happen, I just can't. I can't let my heart be broken twice.
I looked at Gabbie and she was still laughing, her hair hanging heavy down to her waist, stick-straight, from the water. Her eyes twinkled, reminding me of Kirsty's, Hers had too, but they were more tame and affectionate; Gabbie's twinkled with mischief and adventure.
Oh, what's the use? I thought. I'm just falling for this girl I met less than twelve hours ago.
I watched as Gabbie pulled herself out of the water and sat at the edge of the pool, her toes brushing the surface. I followed her lead. "So," I said, "your guitar's really named Delilah?"
"Yup!" she replied brightly. "Why? Does it freak you out?" She asked, leaning over with a silly grin plastered to her face.
" No, not at all, I just think it's pretty cool." Her eyes drifted off of me and her grin vanished, leaving a frown in its place.
"Um. Is there a reason your friend is kissing my friend?" I turned quickly to see Mike pull away from Natalie.
"Uhh . . . Yeah. He's just . . . "
"Lucky him!" she exclaimed. "You see, Natalie's never let a guy kiss her before. Her mom was upset about that. Her dad, not so much." I chuckled.
"I can imagine that." The statement conjured up a fantasy of Natalie coming home from Prom and her date pecking her on the cheek good night, and her overprotective father firing up his rifle. I laughed out loud, and Gabbie looked at me funnily, confused.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing." I answered quickly.
Gabbie’s P.O.V.
"My weiner is squishy." Dexter whined, poking his mustard-doused hot dog with a pink plastic fork. Rylanta and I exchanged amused glances.
"That’s what she said." I said quickly before anyone could steal my thunder. Everyone around cracked up except Dexter and Mike, who looked confused . . . Or maybe that was his normal expression; I hadn’t really seen his face besides being attached at the mouth to Natalie’s.
"I don’t get it." Everyone who’d laughed -all teenagers, very mature, clearly- stared at Mike like he’d sprouted horns and a fluffy bunny tail. The backyard was awkwardly silent except for Uncle Marge’s jolly laughter and the yipping of his dog. "Oh, now I get it." Mike chuckled and just like that, order was restored.
---
William's P.O.V.
Slowly but surely, as the sun went down (not that you could tell, because Arnold’s backyard lights were so bright), the guests trickled out, feigning sleepiness or acid reflux, but I suspected it had something to do with Arnold’s tipsy ramblings. I, being the ‘mature gentleman’ walked Gabbie to her front door. (Because it was so far). . .
Gabbie’s P.O.V.
"So." I started, not being able to control my goofy smile, finally being completely alone with William for what seemed to be the first time that night. "Thanks for coming."Ugh. That was predictable.
"Thanks for inviting me." At least he’s playing along with my predictable routine. . . Or not. Then he kissed me, which was not predictable. Or was it? It was nothing more than a brush of lips, possibly the Shortest Kiss in the History of Kisses, but it was still enough to make my insides turn into lime Jell-O.
William's P.O.V.
WHY AM I SUCH A COWARD? Well, Gabbie’s eyes are still closed and her lips are still pursed. I knew I shouldn’t have backed out. Maybe I should kiss her again. No, that could be awkward. Gabbie’s eyes opened wide, her shocked expression breaking my reverie.
"GoodNightBye." She said quickly and slammed the door. Um, okay then. Was it something I said?
---
Kirsty stands with her hands on her hips, glaring at William, as usual.
"What?" He asks innocently.
"When are you just going to give up already?" She accuses.
"What? The band? This is my life, Kirsty."
"You’re going to waste your life pursuing a stupid dream that will never happen?"
"It’s not stupid!" William frowned. "You don’t believe we can make it?" He asked, crestfallen.
"No. I don’t." Kirsty admits decisively.
"Well, I’m not giving up." William counters.
"You’re so stubborn, William Beckett!" Kirsty exclaims, stamping her feet. She pivots and turns around, leaving him. William hangs his head, but he hears something that jerks it back up. Laughter. Gabbie’s laughter. She is behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist , laughing with him about how dumb Kirsty was to leave. She kisses his cheek and there is a loud buzzing. Dammit !He was starting to enjoy that dream.
William’s P.O.V.
Gabbie’s P.O.V.