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Ah, I slept in! Before I update, I want to post something that I posted over at Roswell Fanatics. There's been quite a lengthy discussion brewing over there, pretty interesting. So here's my take on Michael Guerin:

There's a lot of different ways you can look at this. You can hate these people or love them . . . whatever. In the end, there's no wrong opinion.

Maria does love Michael. She doesn't want to, because he's not a very easy guy to love sometimes, but she can't help herself.

I've come to the conclusion after reading all your feedback and reading through my own story that . . . Michael is the most confusing character in the story. Even more so than Maria, I believe. He's not dumb . . . but he is a dumb-ass. He does have depth, he does have layers, but the image he projects to everyone else is very one-dimensional. He lives a very easy, cool life. He gets to be the guy who gets laid all the time and goes out and has fun and doesn't worry about the future. It's an immature life, but it's a fun life. Why would he want to change just yet?

Anyway, those were just a few of my thoughts in response some reactions we had on the last part. Thank you guys so much for taking the time to really invest yourselves in this story! It means sooooooo much to me! Hopefully you'll stick with it, this story about imperfect people who do very imperfect things. On the surface, it's somewhat humorous and crazy, but there's definitely a darker edge to it.


(Okay, Maria and Michael briefly sing the lyrics of the song "Don't Wait" by Dashboard Confessional in this part. Very briefly, but I don't want to take credit for anything that's not mine.)







Part 46








The next day was pure torture for Michael. Maria woke him, Max, and Kyle up at 6:00 in the morning and demanded that they have all her things moved into Michael's room and his likewise moved into hers by the time she got back from dance practice. Max was the only one who actually listened to her, though. Michael and Kyle both went back to sleep. When Maria got back, Max hadn't made much progress yet, so she beat Michael and Kyle awake and put them straight to work hauling furniture and other items before they could even begin to protest.

Part of him had known something like this was coming. It was inevitable. He had technically stolen the room from her the day that they had all moved in. It was a miracle that he had kept it as long as he had.

Being the queen of the house, Maria, of course, chose not to partake in the rearranging process and opted to sit back and supervise instead.

"Michael, Michael," she said scoldingly when he came back into the room with a box in his arms. "Only one box?"

"One heavy box. It's got all your make-up and crap in it. It weighs a ton."

Kyle came into the room next with two long drawers, carrying one atop each shoulder.

"What a stud," Maria remarked. "What a strongman. Kyle Valenti."

Kyle smirked.

"Give me that," Michael said, seizing one of the drawers from him. "Yeah, 'cause it's lightweight," he said, holding up one of the garments in it. A miniscule green thong. Ooh, and a red one. And a white one and black.

"Michael!" she hissed, taking the drawer from him. "If you're gonna get turned on by my underwear, at least don't do it when I'm in the room."

He glanced at Kyle, who was grinning at him knowingly. It wasn't the underwear that was arousing. It was the thought of her wearing it.

She set the drawer down on the bed and said, "Alright, halt the moving. Next order of business . . . taking down that hideous Metallica poster."

"Oh, I can't watch," Michael said, dramatically turning away.

"It's a sad day in Michael-land," Kyle agreed as he walked over to where the poster was plastered on the wall.

"Motorbreath," Michael said quietly to himself in an effort to stay calm. "King Nothing. Bad Seed."

"Describing yourself again?" Maria asked.

"Those are Metallica songs, you . . . non-believer!"

His outburst was followed by a sharp ripping sound. He snapped his head around to see what had happened and found Kyle standing by the poster, which was now torn in two. "Oops," he said.

"Oh!" Michael cried in despair, running to the poster like a mother running to her child. He held both halves in his hands, horrified. "What did you do?" he yelled at Kyle.

"I was just tryin' to take it down, man."

"Holy . . . shit! This thing was autographed by James Hetfield, man!"

"Who's James Hatfield?" Maria asked.

"Hetfield!" he corrected. "You don't know who James Hetfield is?"

"Uh, no."

Ignorant! Michael thought in outrage. Ignorant bad music-listener. "He's only the greatest music genius to ever live! Lead singer, guys, come on!"

"Oh, right," Kyle said.

"Of course," Maria added.

"He fuckin' signed my poster!" he roared, pounding his fist into the wall with both words he emphasized.

"Hey, watch it, obsesso," Maria said. "I don't want you punching a whole in my new wall."

"Your wall," he grumbled. "I have sex one time . . ."

"And lose the bet."

"And lose my walls. I'm just sayin', this is above and beyond the call of cruelty, Maria."

She just smiled at him, and he wanted to stare. You're lucky you're pretty, Maria, he thought. Otherwise, I'd never let you get away with this.

Max came into the room then and said, "What's all the commotion about in here?"

"Michael's having a hissy fit 'cause he's a big baby," Maria explained.

"Oh. Of course." Max chuckled a little. "Alright, well, we got all the drawers of her dresser moved in, so I guess the next step is actually moving the dresser itself."

"Oh, I can't help with that," Kyle said, raising his hand. "I have a note from my chiropractor." He pretended to hand an invisible note to Maria.

She pretended to unfold it and read it. "Hmm, okay, Kyle. You're excused."

"What?" Michael spat.

"Michael, beef up those biceps and help Max out," she instructed.

He grunted and, even though he was distraught about the Metallica poster and distressed about losing his room, he did as she instructed.

"Dude, how do you do it?" he asked Max when they were alone in Maria's old bedroom, his new one.

"Do what?" Max asked.

"Date Maria."

Max smiled. "It's easy."

"No, easy is, like, hopscotch, man. Actually, that's not very easy. I used to fall on my ass when I'd try that. But it's easier than Maria. Maria's not . . . well, I mean, she is easy, but not easy to date," he rambled on. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't say your girlfriend's easy, but I think she'd be the first to admit it."

"Okay," was all Max said.

"It can't be easy," he went on. "She's outta control, man."

Max smiled. "Yeah. I love her."

Michael wasn't sure he'd heard his friend right, but . . . yeah, he had. He stood there for a moment, slightly stunned. Max bent down and sought to get a hold on his side of the dresser, but Michael just stood there, because he was still reeling from the sudden admission. Wow.

Max loves Maria, he thought. Not as a friend. Not as a roommate. As . . . love.

It was weird.

"You wanna grab that side?" Max asked him.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he said, snapping himself out of his thoughts. It really was weird, though. The whole Max and Maria thing had sort of sprung out of nowhere . . .

Michael was deep in thought as he and Max hauled the heavy dresser down the hallway. He was so deep in thought, in fact, that he barely held up his end, and poor Max had to do most of the work.

So if he loves her, he wondered, does that mean she loves him, too? Because that would be even weirder.

"A little to the left," Maria was saying to Kyle when Max and Michael returned to the room with the dresser. They set it down, and Michael smiled a little as he watched Maria directing Kyle on where to hang her poster.

"No, a little to the right."

But then he saw just what the poster pictured, and he felt disgust. "Dashboard Confessional, Maria? Are you serious?"

"Shut up. They rock."

"They whine," he corrected, singing their lyrics then in the whiniest, worst voice he could. "Don't wait! Don't waaaaiiiit!"

"The road is now, a sudden sea!" she sang out. "And suddenly! The room is mine! For all time!"

"Very funny," he said, noting her lyrical rearrangement.

She turned back to Kyle then and said, "No, Kyle, not so far up. Further down."

He shifted it just gradually, and she said, "No, further up."

He gave her an annoyed look and warned, "I'm about to bitch."

"Just a little further to the right, and then left-ish," she said.

He literally inched the poster over to the right, then back to the left, and it ended up in the same spot he had placed it before. He waited for her to tell him to stop, and when she did, he paused with such precision that it was almost creepy.

"Stop!"

"Right here?"

"Right there," she agreed. She tossed Max a roll of hot pink masking tape and said, "Max, go tape it up, please."

"On it," he said, already heading over.

"Wait, tape?" Michael piped up. "You know that's gonna peel all the paint off the walls."

"Well, then, you can repaint it," she said, shrugging.

"Oh, I can't wait."

She stood up on her feet on top of the bed then, bouncing from side to side, smiling excitedly. Everything about her dances, Michael realized. Her hands, her eyes, her smile . . .

"Alright, boys, we've got a lot of work ahead of us," she said, "but I think if we all just skip class today, we'll be done by sundown."

"Uh," Kyle groaned tiredly.

"Happy to help," Max said. Of course. "I don't have class today anyway."

Maria turned to Michael, then, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, what about you?" she asked. "Are you in it for the long haul?"

Always have been, he thought, gazing up into her sparkling green eyes. It was so great to see her like this, so lively and full of spirit. How Amy DeLuca could hate this girl, he did not know, because she was a great, crazy girl.

"I guess," he answered, trying to sound flippant.

"Ooh, goodie!" she chirped, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Alright, well, get a move on, boys! We desperately need to feminize this room."

Michael smiled. Everything about her danced . . .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, Maria stood in the doorway to her bedroom, feeling good about it. Truthfully, it hadn't changed that much from when Michael had occupied it. Obviously now it would smell better and be cleaner. It was perfect for her, though. Way more spacious, so she'd have some room to choreograph dances now.

'Bout damn time, she thought, smirking at how easy it had been to convince Michael to give up the room. Why she hadn't made a no-sex bet with him years ago, she did not know.

She felt Michael come up behind her. He was quiet for a moment, then declared, "It looks exactly the same."

"Different dresser," she pointed out.

"Bad poster."

"Different bedspread."

"Bad poster."

She gave him a look. Just because he liked unbearable heavy metal and was a total loser . . .

"Goodnight," he said, heading down the hallway.

"Oh, it will be a good night," she said. "Hey, watch out for the springs that poke up through my mattress. They really suck."

He gave her a backwards wave before disappearing into the room.

She smiled and stepped into her new room as well. Yes, it was nice. It was only lacking one thing.

Michael himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Man, Maria wasn't kidding, Michael thought as he struggled to fall asleep that night. This bed sucks. He rolled over onto his back, only to be poked with an uncomfortable spring. "Ow," he said, shifting to the right slightly. But a spring got him there, too. "Dammit." How did she ever manage to have sex on that bed? That was what he was wondering.

He tossed and turned for at least an hour. Nothing worked. He hated. That. Bed. Hated it. In addition to being uncomfortable, it was too short for him, too. His feet were hanging off the edge, freezing. He felt like a big baby, but he wanted his old bed back.

At 3:30 in the morning, just as he was starting to get delirious from lack of sleep, he crawled out of the bed and trudged down the hallway back to the best room of the house, his old master bedroom. He pushed open the door and went inside, practically asleep before he hit the mattress.

"What're you doing?" he heard Maria mumbled as he crawled in beside her. She sounded half asleep, though. She probably didn't know what was going on.

"Just shut up," he said, settling in beside her, pulling some of the covers away from her. She pulled back, and a tug-of-war ensued for at least a minute until, exhausted, he gave in and let her have all the blankets. He fell asleep a moment later, happy to be back in his own bed.

And sleeping next to Maria didn't suck, either.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Is there such a thing as studying too much? Max wondered as he got out of the shower the next morning. 'Cause I think I do it. His brain literally hurt from all the hours he had put in on biology last night. He'd been up until the wee hours of the morning, but he still managed to wake up early at 7:30 in the morning. Unlike Maria. That girl had an awful time waking up. She never set an alarm because, if she did, she'd just sleep through it or press the snooze button. Max didn't mind, though. The longer she slept, the longer he got to lie awake and watch her sleep. But that only happened if she slept in his bed, and she'd slept alone last night.

Instead of cramming in more studying that morning like he usually would have, he decided to surprise his girlfriend instead. Even though she hated waking up early, he figured she wouldn't mind waking up early for breakfast in bed. It was time he showed her how much he cared about her.

He made French toast and a three cheese omelet the best way he knew how. He poured her a glass of fresh orange juice, fried up a side of bacon quickly, and put it all on a tray to bring into her. She was going to be surprised. But happy, too. He knew she would be happy. She'd never had a boyfriend who did things like this for her.

She'd never had a boyfriend. He was determined to make sure she never had another.

He walked down the hallway slowly, careful not to spill any of the orange juice, and balanced the tray in one hand while quietly pushing open her door. With a big smile on his face, he prepared to say, 'Good morning, Maria,' but the words never left his mouth. Because what he saw made him stop dead in his tracks and almost spill the entire tray.

Maria was indeed asleep, but she wasn't alone. Michael was lying in bed with her, right behind her, in fact, spooning up to her. Whether he realized it or not . . . he was close to her.

The smile faded from Max's face. Jealousy kicked in. It was inevitable. And it just got worse when Michael shifted even closer and draped his arm over her mid-section, touching even more of her.

Max wanted to physically separate them, but it wasn't his place. Not really. He had no idea what was going on, if anything was going on at all. All he knew was that seeing them together like that really struck a nerve.

He quietly set the tray down in the chair beside her bed before he slipped out of the room. She would wake up sooner or later, see it there, and know that he had been in the room. And maybe then she would offer him an explanation.

That would be nice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria couldn't believe she'd slept so well. Her new bed was most definitely comfortable and warm, but she'd almost slept too well. She could barely open her eyes in the morning. She didn't want to.

"Mmm," she murmured, feeling so content. She shifted just slightly and thought she felt a familiar presence near her. Very near.

What? she wondered, tiredly turning her head to look over her shoulder. There were strong arms wrapped around her body a naked chest pressed against her back. Arms and a chest belonging to . . .

Michael?

He was still fast asleep. He looked different than she'd ever seen him look before. With his mouth just slightly open and that little snoring sound coming from the back of his throat, he seemed kind of . . . dorky. But it was great.

So that's why I slept so well, she thought to herself, smiling. She didn't remember him putting his arms around her or even getting in the bed with her for that matter. But she was glad he did. He was nice to sleep with. He'd even let her have all the covers.

For two people who didn't sleep together sexually, they definitely slept together a lot.

She was about to settle back down into his arms and pretend to be asleep for as long as he was asleep, but when she turned to look back at him one more time, she spied something on the chair by the wall. It was a tray full of breakfast foods.

Weird, she thought, wrinkling her head in confusion. Who would make me breakfast? Who would get up early enough to do that?

It didn't take her long to figure it out, and when she did, she worried. "Oh, no," she said, tossing the sheets aside and springing out of the bed.

Michael moved and said her name tiredly. "Maria?"

She ran out of the room and down the hallway to Max's bedroom. She felt horrible already. He was such a good guy, and it sucked for him to walk in on that. Even though they hadn't been doing anything. Even though she hadn't even known he was in there. It was all Michael's fault. It always was.

She sighed and opened the door to his room, but he wasn't in there. His laptop computer wasn't on his desk, and his backpack was nowhere in sight, either, so she figured he had already headed off to class. She was too late.

Max, she thought, genuinely feeling bad. I'm sorry.

She slinked back into her room a minute later, unsure what she was going to say to him. The truth was probably the smartest option, except . . . the truth was . . . she had really enjoyed lying next to Michael. Really. She couldn't tell Max that. She should, but she couldn't.

"What's wrong?" Michael asked her as he stretched out on his back.

Why can't you put a shirt on? she wondered. Why can't you just put a shirt on and make this a whole lot easier on me? "Nothing," she replied, hoping he was tired enough to find that convincing.

Apparently he was convinced, because he just smiled and said, "Then get back in here. You're kinda warm." He reached up, grabbed her arm, and tried to pull her back down onto the bed with him; but she knew that if she got back in there, she'd never get back out. And she had to find Max. He was her . . . boyfriend.

And Michael wasn't.

"I can't," she said, reluctantly pulling her arm away from him. It took everything she had to walk back out into the living room and leave him in there alone, because she really wanted to stay.

She wanted to stay.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Max!" Maria called once she finally spotted her boyfriend that afternoon. He was walking, on his way to class, and didn't seem to hear her. Or maybe he was just ignoring her. She found that hard to believe, but regardless, he didn't turn around.

"Max!" she yelled again, running to catch up with him. "Max." She jumped in front of him hoping he might smile when he saw her like he usually did. But he didn't. Bad. Just bad.

"Hey," she said, hoping for some sort of response.

But all she got was, "Hey," in return, nothing else as he tried to walk around her.

She stepped to the side, blocking him.

"Max," she said, unused to this. "Talk to me."

He stared at her, looking sad. His eyes were pleading with her when he said, "Why don't you talk to me, Maria?"

Why didn't she? Because she was always talking to Michael.

She didn't stop him this time as he walked around her, away from her. She'd never seen him so sad, and she'd never felt so bad. Max was supposed to be her boyfriend, but she knew she didn't treat him very well. She treated him horribly, and she hated that fact.








TBC . . .

-April