My Heart, Not Yours

Eight - High Hopes

Gordon sat, his back against the door, arm-dancing to High Hopes by Panic! At The Disco. I sat on my bed at the opposite side of the room, giving him some serious stank-eye. Gordon felt the sting of the stank and hopped over to the bed, landing his ass right next to mine.

"Hey, baby!" he teased as he laid his head on my shoulder.

"If you weren't my best friend and so stupidly gay, maybe it would work. Oh, and you're a 'Panic!' fan. I'm never dating anyone with such a obnoxious taste in music."

Gordon gasped, resulting in the both of us cracking up into what seemed to be never-ending laughter.

Until my phone rang the all-too-familiar ringtone. The ringtone I had set especially for Savannah. That idiot always calls me with the usual "I like someone but you can't know who it is" or the "I'm sad but I'm not gonna tell you why" or "my head hurts I think I have cancer." Should I go on?

Gordon looked up at me, raising an eyebrow. This was Gayla time. This was the special time Gordon and I spent together when we needed to figure shit out. My shit was usually Dylan and his shit was th straight guy he liked - Patrick.

A/N my boyfriend's name is Patrick. Ain't nobody telling Patrick. Got it?

I shook my head and answered Savannah's call.

"Hey, 'Vannah," I said.

"Shut up. I think Dylan likes you."

I roll my eyes. "What makes you think that?"

"I mean, he talked to you yesterday without puking."

"Get a life."

"Nah, mate."

"Get a boyfriend."

"I have one."

"You WHAT?!"

"Bye. Talk to you later."

"Savannah!"

She ended the call.

Gordon stared at me, wide-eyed. I smiled and shook my head before filling him in on the details. All he could do was laugh.

"You're telling me that Savannah has a boyfriend?" he continued to laugh.

"Yes. Shut up. If anyone was to have a boyfriend, it would be her."

"Yeah but... I'm hotter than her. I still don't have a boyfriend."

"That may be true but your case is very special."

"How's that?"

"You're... you're gay."

Gordon gasps. "No!"

"I know. It's hard to believe. Especially with those sparkling studs in your ears, your dyed pink hair and your Taylor Swift t-shirt."

"But it's signed!"

"GAY!" I hollered.

Gordon smiled before changing his expression dramatically. He was serious Gordon now.

"I think Dylan likes you."

"Stop giving me high hopes- DON'T START SINGING THAT SONG!"

Gordon laughed and playfully pushed me off the bed. He then helped me back up and asked which song I wanted to play, handing me his phone which was open to the music app. I scrolled through the playlist and tapped on I Write Sins Not Tragedies, another Panic! At The Disco song.

"Panic! ain't that bad anymore, huh?" Gordon questioned.

"They're still crap. I just think this song is funny."

We broke into off-tune singing.

"What a shame the poor bride-groom is a whore!

I chime in with a 'haven't you people ever heard of

Closing the goddamn door' no..."

**********

The story's back! Yay! I just realised how much I missed writing this! Did you guys miss it?

Don't forget to vote, comment and share to show your support!

Question: On a scale of 1-10 how much dialogue do you like in a story?

Thanks for reading! I love you guys! 

XOXO, Blazing Beauty