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Nicola: Yea, Nicola's reading! *hugs* Thanks, hun!

veritasuk:

Is the guy Liz was talking about Max then?

You'll find out who the guy Liz mentioned is in this part.

Sara: You're right, no one likes Maria . . . or at least they don't like living with her. But secretly, deep down, they do really like her. Except for Max.

valentinebaby: No sympathy towards Tess, huh? That's okay, you don't really need to. If a roommate relationship doesn't work out, it's both the people's faults, not just Maria's.

Luluzita: I'm glad you like Maria! But like with Passion Maria, you'll see 521 Maria mature a lot.

Steffi:

So Michael is a nice guy, who actually listens in class, stays at home and has no single bad ass bone?

Yeah, I know it's hard to imagine, but you're right: This Michael doesn't have a bad-ass bone in his body. He's a really great, really nice, smart, sweet guy. (I love him!) But being such a nice guy in a world where there are so many horrible guys . . . that's kind of bad-ass in its own way.

Ashley: Oh my gosh, I love Clueless! That movie actually kind of inspired lots of the M+M stuff in here! And yes, Miserable is on the playlist. I have you to thank for introducing me to that awesome song!

emadaps: The guy Liz dated last year does sound like Max, doesn't he? But it's not necessarily him. And this guy . . . she didn't actually date him so much as she just kind of . . . screwed him.

AntarianHeiress: Yeah, Tess was pretty much bashing Maria in the last part. But Maria's going to be bashing Tess, too. But that's just girl/best friend drama for you! They're both exaggerating. They don't hate each other.

Mag: Dude, I would've kicked her out, too! She's the kind of person who is cool to go party with, but she's not good roommate material.

Lyllie: Aw, I'm so glad to have you reading! Thanks for the feedback. And if you don't know where you stand on Tess, I think you'll know soon. Personally, I like her, but I feel really sorry for her.

maji343: It's funny you mentioned both Double Trouble and Passion in your post, because I was thinking that this fic has a lot of similiarities to both of them! lol, but at the same time, I know this fic is also completely different than Passion. So no need to worry about a Michael/Liz hookup. lol, I wouldn't do that to you guys again!

Enjoy this part, readers! Next update will be Sunday afternoon!

Part 3

When he arrived home, Michael thought his living room felt like a tundra. It was freezing. Maria was lying on the couch, though, in shorts that could pass as underwear, a pile of blankets at her feet. She had the remote control in one hand and a box of Cheez-Its in the other. Even though the TV was on, she was asleep, her mouth hanging open just slightly.

He cleared his throat and slammed the door, waking her up.

"I'm awake!" she exclaimed, shooting upright. She wiped at the drool on the side of her mouth, made a face of disgust, and then wiped off her hand on one of his pillows. One of the nice pillows his own grandmother had spent years embroidering. She was using it as a drool towel. Fantastic.

"Don't you think it's cold in here?" he asked.

"No," she replied emphatically. "God, I'm burning up. In fact . . ." She trailed off and reached down to pull her shirt upward and remove it. She tossed it backward flippantly, and it landed on his head.

He handed the shirt back to her and said, "Don't just throw your clothes around, okay?" He really tried to keep his place clean.

"Whatev," was her response as she dropped her shirt onto the floor. "How hot is it in here, anyway?"

"No, it's not-it's not hot," he insisted. "It's cold. It's cold in here."

"Then why am I all sweaty?"

"Maybe it's your natural state." He shrugged. "I don't know. "

"I'm not naturally sweaty. Maybe you're naturally shivery."

"Shivery?"

"You shiver."

"Fine, I shiver. You know why? 'Cause I'm cold." He made his way over to his thermostat and said, "Oh, no wonder. It's 62 degrees in here."

"Sweatbox!" she exclaimed. "Turn it down."

"Down? Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm hot." She grinned and added, "But that's common knowledge."

"Yeah, you looked real hot when you were drooling in your sleep."

"Hey, tell no one about that," she warned. "And Michael, realize this: 'Tis a far, far better thing to be cold than hot. If you're cold, you can layer up. If you're hot, all you can really do is strip down. Now, I'll get naked if I have to, but . . ."

"No, no, just . . ." He decided to lay the issue to rest and said, "I'll go put on a sweater."

She smiled. "Good boy."

"Good boy," he echoed. "My god. Okay." He trudged into his bedroom, shaking his head and muttering under his breath, but when he slung his backpack down on the bed and slid open his closet doors, silence engulfed him. Because all the clothes in there . . . were her clothes!

Dresses. Skirts. Chick tops and chick pants. None of it belonged to him. The worst part was all the shoes cluttering the bottom of the closet. There had to be fifty pairs of them. Strappy sandals and all kinds of boots and . . . none of his shoes!

First the bathroom, now the closet, he thought in astonishment. She was crazy. She was a crazy person. And she was taking over everything, stripping more and more of his masculinity away with every takeover tactic she enacted. This could not go on.

Dazed, he made his way back out to the living room. She was in the kitchen, though now, still holding her box of crackers in her hand. She had found a can of Easy Cheese now, though, and instead of squirting the cheese onto the crackers like any normal person would do, she tilted her head back and squeezed the cheese directly into her mouth.

"Maria."

She set the cheese down (the can was now clearly empty) and swallowed everything she had in her mouth. "What?"

"My closet."

"What about it?"

Oh, she already knew! "What happened to it?"

She smiled innocently and said, "It got prettier?"

"It got prettier?!" he shrieked. "Where the hell are my clothes?"

"Oh, well, I threw away the really ugly stuff," she said.

"What?"

"And I put the other stuff in boxes, and I put the boxes under the bed."

"You . . . what?"

"Yeah, I already talked to my brother. He's gonna take you shopping Saturday so you can get some attractive clothes."

"But I-I don't want attractive clothes. I want my clothes."

"All your clothes had paint on them."

"Because I'm a painter!"

She rolled her eyes and groaned. "Oh, technicalities. Here, have some crackers." She thrust the Cheez-Its box at him. "They'll make you feel better."

"No, they won't, 'cause I'm still cold, and I can't go put on my sweater because you probably threw away my favorite sweater."

"The checkered one?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh, yeah, that's gone."

"It's gone," he echoed. "Great. Well, you know what, Maria? You're gone."

She gave him a confused look and stated the obvious when she said, "No, I'm right here."

"Not for much longer. You're gonna find somewhere else to live, and you're gonna . . . go live there."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because, I live alone. I like to live alone. That's why."

"I bet you're really boring when you're alone," she said. "Masturbate, paint, masturbate, paint. Watch the news. Ooh."

"I do just fine on my own," he assured her. "Maria, you're my friend, but I can't live with you. You gotta go somewhere else."

She looked a little taken aback. "Whoa," she said. "Check you out, puttin' your foot down. Right on top of me! Squashing me like I'm a little bug. Thanks a lot, Mr. Stompy Foot!"

"Stompy foot?" he echoed. "I'm not-yes, I am! Stompy foot. Puttin' my foot down. There you go. I want you outta my house by the end of the week."

"End of the week?" she echoed. "But where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't know. Go stay with someone else, get an apartment of your own, reconcile with Tess. The possibilities are endless."

She pouted. "This sucks. I just unpacked all my clothes."

He tossed his arms about in the air, almost losing it. "In my closet!"

"Fine!" she shouted. "Some friend you are! You can't even lend me a helping hand when I need it. But guess what? When I get an apartment of my own and fail to pay the first month's rent and end up out on the street, shooting up just to feel alive, knocked up after a desperate night of prostitution, I'm blaming you!" She shoved the crackers box against his chest and stormed off towards the bedroom. She turned around at last minute though, stomped over towards the thermostat, and turned the temperature down to a chilling 59 degrees. "That's more like it," she said, smirking.

He clenched his jaw shut to keep from saying something he would regret and ground out, "End of the week, Maria."

"That's fine," she growled ferociously. "I don't wanna stay here anyway."

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

Some people said Friday nights were the best nights of the week; others chose Saturday. Max Evans passionately and steadfastly believed that Thursday nights were the best. Thirsty Thursday. Everyone got hammered, and it was always a great time.

The big action that night was surprisingly taking place at a high school sophomore's house. Some kid who had a rich dad who was out of town . . . he should have known it was a recipe for disaster when he invited a "few people" over for a "small get-together." Max didn't pity him one bit. So his house was now a drunken orgy site. He had no one to blame but himself.

"Hmm," Tess said when they walked in. "Looks fun."

"Yeah." He surveyed the room and caught sight of one of the few girls in the world he could never mistake. She was sitting alone on the couch, and that satisfied him. She was wearing tight black pants and a sparkling grey halter. Her hair was down and dark as ever. She looked even better than the first night he had met her a year ago.

He had to go talk to her, but he had to get rid of his girlfriend first.

"Oh, look, there's Maria," he said upon spying one of his least favorite people over by the keg with an astounding number of men around her.

"And she's getting plastered." Tess looked disappointed, but not at all surprised. "What else is new?"

"You should go insult her," Max suggested.

She frowned in confusion. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, you don't want to let her make a jab at you first. Then you'll be on the defensive end of a cat-fight."

"I guess . . ." Tess said.

"Go on."

She still looked a little confused, but she left his side to make her way over to Maria and the gaggle of guys. Max grinned and slipped off to talk to his former bed-partner. He approached the couch and leaned down to speak quietly in her ear. "Do you wanna have sex with me?"

Liz turned her head to the side just slightly, not even fully allowing herself to look at him. "No," she replied simply.

"Try to sound a little more convincing." He smiled, knowing that she was trying to hide a likewise frisky facial expression.

"I'm serious," she insisted. "Why would I wanna have sex with you when you're still dating your precious Tess Harding?"

He made a face. "I never said she was precious."

"Last year you broke up with her and hooked up with me. And then you ended things with me and got back together with her. Is that supposed to make me swoon?"

Fair enough, he thought. At the time of their first hook-up, Liz had been little more than a sexual object to him; but ever since he had put an end to their secret sexual trysts, he had found himself completely infatuated with her. Flirting with her like this while his girlfriend was mere feet away was exhilarating.

"What if I told you I love you?" he asked.

"Please," she scoffed. "You don't love anyone. Except yourself."

He smiled. This was true. But since when was that a bad thing? "Don't you love yourself?" he asked. "Don't you love yourself every night when you trail your hand between your legs?"

She tensed, and he enjoyed it.

"Don't you love yourself every night," he murmured against her silky hair, "and think of me?"

The visible shutter that raced through her body was answer enough for him.

"I knew it."

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

"Shot! Shot! Shot! Shot!"

Maria tilted her head back and downed a tequila shot, following it up immediately with a shot of straight vodka. "Woo!" She threw her hands up into the air, and everyone cheered for her.

"Yeah, Maria!"

She laughed and danced around a little as a guy she knew from Spanish class tried to shove another tequila shot into her hand. She ignored him, knowing that she was fast approaching her limit, and asked, "Who wants to dance with me?"

"Oh, me!" everyone chorused. "Me, me!"

She tossed her head back and laughed in delight. This was a great party, full of hot boys who wanted nothing more than to get with her.

"Hey, Maria, you should do a strip tease for us," one of the guys suggested.

She would have done it for fun, but the very small part of her brain that was still using logic decided to try to make some money off of it. "It's gonna cost you."

"How much?"

She shrugged. "Fifty bucks."

"I'll pay it, girl."

She smiled. "Good."

"Clear off the counter, boys," the guy said. "Maria, get up there."

Just as she was about to do just that, she spied Tess coming towards her. "Wait just a minute," she said, grabbing an already-opened can of beer. She didn't care whose it was. She just held it in hand while shoving her way through the crowd towards her ex-best friend and roommate, and when she was close enough, she pretended to trip and spilled beer all over Tess. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oops, sorry. Looks like I ruined your new, pink dress."

Tess didn't look amused. "You did that on purpose."

No point in denying it. "I probably did." She smiled as her boys behind her hollered, "Come on, Maria! Let's go!"

"Nice friends you got there," Tess remarked.

"Nice boyfriend you got . . . wait, where is he?" Maria asked.

Tess ignored that question and said, "So you're drunk and acting slutty. Must be a day that ends in Y."

"At least I'm having fun," Maria shot back. "What is it that you and Max have? Miscommunication, trust issues, and bad sex. I'm so jealous."

"At least I don't have a million STDs from letting every Tom, Dick, and Harry bang me." Tess smirked.

"Well, at least I don't have an ass of a boyfriend who's flirting with someone else as we speak." She cast a glance at Liz and Max out of the corner of her eye. Couldn't he just leave her alone? Didn't he realize she would never go for him?

"What're you talking about?"

"Let's see, I spy with my little eye, something that begins with B." She pointed at Max. "Bastard."

Tess turned around, and she looked truly worried when she saw Max talking to Liz. She quickly forgot about Maria and made her way over to them. "Max," she said. "What're you doing?"

Maria crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance, listening in.

"Oh." From the very first word she heard leave Max's untruthful mouth, she knew he was lying. "Liz is in my chemistry class. I was just asking her a few questions about a lab report we have due next week."

Maria rolled her eyes, unable to bear the obviousness of it all. "He's lying, Tess," she called out to her friend. She knew for a fact that Liz wasn't taking chemistry this semester. Max was just being a prick as usual, flirting up a girl he didn't stand a chance with because she actually had standards.

Tess looked more angry with Maria than with her boyfriend, because she tugged on Max's sleeve and said, "Come on, Max. Let's get out of here. Let's go home and have sex on Maria's old bed. Again."

"Sure," he said. "I could handle that." He glanced down at Liz and said, "See ya," before wrapping his arm around Tess's shoulders and guiding her towards the door.

Maria stomped her foot angrily and decided to retaliate. "Well, come on . . ." She grabbed the nearest male by his shirt collar, an obvious underclassman who was mildly attractive, and asked, "Uh, what's your name?"

"Brad," he replied.

"Come on, Brad," she said, loud enough for her former friend to hear her. "Let's go have better sex than Max and Tess could ever have!"

He laughed giddily as she dragged him through the crowd. "Okay!"

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

Maria shoved Brad through the door of apartment 521 and stalked in after him. She slammed the door and enjoyed the look of perpetual anxiety etched onto his face. Then she kissed him almost violently and ripped his shirt off.

"Oh!" he exclaimed in surprise.

She laughed.

"So you're a-a journalism major?"

"Mmm-hmm." She kissed him again, but for some reason, he seemed determined to get to know her a little.

"And you're a junior?"

"Yep. And you . . ." She snaked her hands up his chest, pleasantly surprised by his body. ". . . are a freshman."

"How-how can you tell?" he stuttered nervously.

"You talk too much." She jumped up into his arms-he barely caught her-and shoved her tongue into his mouth as he staggered down the hallway. She pushed open the door to the bedroom, and he stumbled towards the bed, falling down on top of it, her on top of him.

"Ah!" Michael screamed. Funny, Maria thought. She hadn't even noticed him lying there.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

She smiled and rubbed her lower body against her boy-toy's erection. "Mmm, I'm doing Brad," she moaned in response. She sneaked her hand down between them to pull down his zipper.

"Oh, god!" Michael hollered in dismay. He sprung out of the bed, taking one of the sheets and pillows with him, and fled the room.

Maria laughed at her friend's hasty exit. It was too bad she had to move out. He was a good roommate.

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

Michael walked to art class with his best friend and neighbor Kyle Valenti that day, relaying last night's insanity to him.

"Wow," Kyle exclaimed in disbelief. "So she and this guy . . . while you were in the bed?"

"No, I got the hell outta there," he reminded him. "But all night, I couldn't get to sleep because of . . . the sounds."

"Whoa." Kyle seemed incredibly intrigued. "You heard what Maria DeLuca sounds like havin' sex?"

"Yeah."

"What's she sound like?"

"Like a crazy person!"

"Oh! No!" Kyle made a face. "What a disappointment."

"No, really, the loud one was the guy. I don't even know who he was. I don't know where she finds these guys. He was making barking sounds. Howling. Really disturbing."

"Oh, you're only supposed to make those sounds your first time," Kyle said. "Or so I've heard."

"Well, kudos to him for gettin' the job done, though. Numerous times. Until 6:00 a.m. Oh, I swear to God, I'm so tired, I can't keep my eyes open."

"Ah, relax," Kyle said as they headed into Richards Hall with the rest of the Advanced Painting II students. "She'll be outta your hair soon enough, right?"

"I hope so." Honestly, he'd been trying not to get his hopes up. "I don't even think she's gone to look at any apartments, though. All she does is go and party, come back and have sex. She never does homework, she never studies for tests, she never goes to class, she never goes to work 'cause she doesn't have a job . . . and she never looks for another place to stay."

"Uh-oh," Kyle said. "Little birdie's making a nest."

Michael scrunched up his forehead in confusion. "What?"

"You heard me. She's settling in. Liz did the same thing when I got my apartment freshman year. You remember?"

"No, I didn't know you when you were dating her."

"Well, she did. And when we broke up, I had to get stern, you know? Wasn't fun, but I pretty much just threw her out."

"Yeah, but that's different," Michael reminded him as they trudged up the stairs to their classroom. "She was your ex. Maria's my friend."

"A friend who drives you crazy and takes advantage of your generosity."

"Well, yeah, but . . . she's still my friend." Sometimes he wasn't sure why. They had nothing in common, and they didn't actually hang out that much, but . . . she and Tess had always tried to be there for him, especially after all the Isabel stuff.

"You know, there could be some advantages to letting Maria stay with you, though," Kyle went on. "She's hot."

"I don't think about her like that."

"But if you did . . . she's hot." Kyle smiled. "Of course, she's not my type, though. The perfect girl for me . . ."

Michael felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and reached in grab it, tuning Kyle out somewhat.

". . . a little more compact . . . sweet . . . semi-innocent . . ."

He flipped open the phone and saw that he had a new text message.

"You know, somebody like . . ."

"Tess," Michael blurted.

"What?" Kyle shrieked, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of the hallway. "Tess? No, I-I didn't say anything about Tess. Early Britney Spears. I was talking about early Britney Spears."

Michael held up his phone and said, "No, Tess just texted me. 'Tell Maria I painted the bathroom pink.'" He shook his head, smiling a little. "Those two . . . I hope they work things out. I hate being caught in between 'em."

"I wouldn't," Kyle said, once again venturing off into pervert territory.

Michael shoved his phone back in his pocket, and he and Kyle rounded the corner and slipped into their classroom just as the class was about to start.

"Tess probably wouldn't even remember me anyway," Kyle mumbled as they headed over to their easels.

"She remembers you," Michael assured him as he set his backpack down on the floor and peeled his covering off of his canvas. "I mention you all the time, and she nods."

"Really?" Kyle grinned from ear to ear, then attempted to cover up his entirely obvious crush by saying, "Well, it doesn't matter."

"Right." Michael smiled himself and surveyed the work in progress painting he planned on submitting for the class. It . . . wasn't his best. He loved painting, drawing, anything to do with art, but his work had been sort of bland lately.

He and Kyle got to work, both making the most of the class period, as their professor, Professor Adams, made his way around to all of his students to offer suggestions and praise for their artwork. When the professor came up to Michael, he immediately frowned.

"Hmm."

"What, you don't like it?" Michael asked.

"No, I like it," Professor Adams said. "It just seems sort of . . . depressing. Grey sky. Murky water. Dark trees. I'm not asking you to paint a sun with a smiley face, but . . . Michael, you seem to be stuck in a rut lately."

He was aware of this.

"In all textbook regards, it's a wonderful painting," Professor Adams said. "But where's the emotion? Even if you're painting a landscape, I should be able to feel it."

"You feel depressed, right?" He shrugged. "Maybe that's what I was going for."

"Maybe." Professor Adams seemed skeptical, of both him and the painting. "Well, work with this some more. Maybe you'd like to turn in a portrait at the end of the semester."

He already knew he wouldn't do that. "I don't know."

"I still remember your final project for my Intermediate Art class last year." The professor smiled fondly. "Now that was a beautiful painting. Maybe you could paint that girl again someday."

Michael stiffened, uncomfortable. "I don't think so," he said.

"Are you sure? She was a magnificent subject."

He didn't want to have this conversation. Ever. With anyone. Kyle seemed to sense that, because he piped up and said, "Hey, professor, mind takin' a look at my painting?"

The older man smiled helpfully. "Sure."

Michael breathed a sigh of relief as Professor Adams went to talk to Kyle. Thank God.

TBC . . .

-April