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Wow, thanks for all the great feedback so far guys! I really wasn't expecting all these wonderful responses since, like several people have pointed out, M+M are basically big whores right now. Crazy but loveable. That's what I was going for, though, so I'm glad you guys are liking it.

Alright, time to continue. Maria's about to be really naughty in this part, though. Big surprise.




Part 3

"Five, six, seven, hit it one, two! Three, four! Roll five, six, turn seven, eight!" Maria shouted out the moves and mirrored her dance team at one of many early morning practices in their own private gym. "And one and two and three and four, five, six . . ." She trailed off, having been taking mental notes the whole time and not liking what she saw. "Okay, stop, guys, stop."

The team stopped dancing and all turned to face the front again, none of them looking too happy.

"What's going on? You guys had this yesterday. It's hips left, right, left, not the other way around."

"Maybe we should change it to right, left, right, if that's what most people are doing," her pain-in-the-ass co-captain Courtney Banks suggested.

Maria immediately shot down the idea. "No. It's my choreography. We're not changing it." No one was going to get her to budge on that. She was the captain. Executive decision. Ha, ha.

Courtney sighed over-exaggeratedly, and Maria was forced to ask her, "What?"

"I'm just tired," she replied. "I think we all are."

"Too bad."

"It's 7:00 a.m., Maria."

"Yeah, and do you know how late I stayed up last night? 4:00 a.m."

One of the other girls on the team gave her a questioning look and said, "Studying?"

"Screwing." She shrugged. "Whatever. The point is, I'm here and willing to work my ass off. Why aren't you?" She flapped her arms against her sides in exasperation and said, "I mean, look at where we are, ladies. This is our gym, our own dance team gym." She spun around and looked over the nice setting, the perfect, undamaged floors, the high ceilings, their team pictures plastered on the wall. Obviously, the best thing was the picture of her alone on the wall, all decked out and beautiful like always. The school had built and decorated the gym a year ago just for their practice sessions. It was an incredible space. "We got this by working hard, by getting up early and dealing with it. Do you know how many dance teams have their own private gym? Like . . . not a lot."

"I've got class in half an hour," Courtney grumbled, apparently unaffected by the semi-motivational speech.

"Well, we've got State Competition in two-count 'em two-days. And we're not ready," Maria said, having no problem being a dictator. "Now, I know you're all tired, but I also know that we are two-time defending champions. That's a great accomplishment, ladies. Really. But I know I'm gonna be pissed if we don't win again." Hopefully that got her point across. "So from the same spot. Five, six, seven, hit it one!"

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

As far as Michael was concerned, classes were a waste of time. Except for his film classes. Those were the only classes he actually worked hard in, the only ones he actually cared about. If he was ever going to be a real director someday, he'd better at least care about his film classes.

Advanced Videography was by far his favorite class. It was a self-instruction class, so there were no real assignments, just periodic dates when they would need to show a short film to the professor and one big challenge at the end of the year in which they would need to make a full-length movie about . . . anything. Michael still didn't know what his was going to be about, but he wasn't the type to stress about schoolwork. Way too cool for that.

"Hey, look at this," his friend Alex Whitman said, tapping him on the shoulder.

Michael leaned over and peered down at the screen on the video camera in his friend's hand. "Whoa," he said. "How'd you get that shot?"

"Underwater lens," Alex replied. "You got one."

"Yeah, but I never used it. I should, though. That's awesome." Michael was jealous of the footage. Even though it was just a couple of fish under the water, it looked clear and cool.

"What you got?" Alex asked him.

He smirked. Here was something Alex would be jealous of. "Maria in the shower."

"Oh, righteous!" Alex exclaimed.

"Come and get it, boys," Michael called to the rest of his friends in the class as he hooked up his video camera to his laptop computer.

Immediately, at least a dozen guys rushed over and crowded around his computer. "Oh, I can't wait," one of them said as Michael uploaded the footage.

"Now, granted, it's just a short glimpse," Michael said, "but we'll pause."

"Yeah, man!"

"Alright, here it comes." Michael played the footage until the exact moment when he had pulled back the shower curtain and revealed . . . "Oh!" Naked Maria peep show of the day. He paused it at just the right time, and his friends started jumping up and down with delight when they got to see her nude front half.

"Dude, that's awesome!"

"You lucky bastard."

Michael laughed. Personally, he didn't really care if she was naked or not. It had no affect on him whatsoever. Most of the time. Sometimes. Once in awhile. But it was cool to be a "lucky bastard" in these guys' eyes.

"Dude, doesn't she sleep with just about everybody?" his friend Luke asked.

"Just about." Except him and Max and Kyle.

"Then when's it gonna be my turn? Man!" Luke exclaimed. "Put in a good word for me."

"I will, man."

"Put in a good word for me, too," someone else added in.

"And me."

"And me."

"Oh, buy her flowers and say they're from me."

Michael chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, guys, Maria DeLuca is not a flowers kind of girl."

"Yeah!" they all shouted out in unison.

"Yeah, just talk dirty to her. That'll do it," he told them.

"Yeah!"

"She'll put out."

"Yeah!"

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

My nail beds suck, Maria thought absentmindedly during her History of Dance class that afternoon. She hated that class. She hated it with a passion. She didn't give a flying fuck about history of any kind-it was just so boring. But she had to take the class if she wanted to graduate with a degree in Dance.

Student aids walked down the aisles handing back papers about . . . something. Maria wasn't sure what. She never worked too hard on her papers. Usually she just slept with some nerd, thus convincing him to write it for her. Hell, she wouldn't even have to sleep with a nerd. She'd just have to say hi to him. (Her middle name wasn't Talented, but it should have been.)

She was still looking at her fingernails when her paper was set atop her desk, face down. After a few moments of not caring, she flipped over the paper and took a look at her grade.

What? How the hell had she gotten a D? A nerd! A nerd wrote the paper! It was supposed to be an A, guaranteed!

"Crap," she swore, trying to figure out how detrimental this could be. What paper was this again? Not her semester final . . . right?

Double crap, she thought, recalling handing that paper "she'd" written in right before Christmas break. End of the fucking semester. Final.

As the classroom began to clear out, she stayed behind, formulating a plan. It wasn't terribly original, but it would work. She was sure it would.

It always did.

"Everyone have a nice day," her professor, Professor Jackson, said as students filed out of the room. He sat down at his desk and, like the typical Type A adult, started working on something else right away. He definitely needed to loosen up. Luckily, she could help him with that and help herself all at the same time.

"Professor Jackson?" she said once she was the only student left.

He looked up from what he was doing and said, "Yes, Maria?"

She walked down towards his desk and asked, "Can I talk to you about this really bad paper I wrote?"

He half-smiled. "It definitely wasn't your best."

"No." Note to self, never sleep with that stupid nerd again. "I don't suppose there's any way we could change that grade?" she asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry. I can't do that."

She sighed. "I didn't think so. I just . . ." Time to turn it up a notch. "I don't know. I've been dealing with so much lately. I'm totally stressed. And I know that's no excuse, but I just feel like I could . . . explode, you know?"

She saw the professor's expression change for a moment, and she knew he'd taken that word out of context just as she'd intended him to. Perfect.

"Have you ever felt that way?" she asked him.

"Uh . . ." He cleared his throat and replied, "Yes, I have. Every day, it seems."

"Yeah." She sighed. "So, I guess there's nothing that we can do, huh?"

He shrugged, obviously getting a little uncomfortable. "Doesn't seem like it."

She took a step closer and lowered her voice to her trademark sultry tone. "Nothing we can do for each other? Or to each other."

He wrinkled his forehead in confusion and calmly said, "Miss DeLuca, I'm very sorry, but I can't help you. Now if you don't mind, I have some work to do."

"Right. Of course." She turned and started for the door, wondering for a moment if this was going to work. She was a master at the art of seduction, but unfortunately, there were always some people who just refused to be seduced. Losers.

She stopped at the doorway and slowly turned around, happy to find that the professor was staring at her ass. He tried to look away, of course, and cover up the fact, but it was obvious.

Grinning mischievously, she pushed the door shut gently.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

"You if you let me," she replied, sashaying forward.

"You . . . you have to leave."

"Once more, with feeling," she teased. Laughing, she set her books down on his desk, then pushed his rolling chair backward and swung one leg over his lap. She sat down atop him, straddling him, pulling out her best irresistible hooker act.

"I can't do this," he said.

"But you want to."

"No!"

"Don't worry," she said, trailing one finger down his chest to rest against his stomach. "I won't tell a soul."

For a minute, she thought he was going to cave, but he kept trying to protest. "It's . . . against policy."

"Screw policy," she said. "Let me screw you."

He closed his eyes and said again, "I can't."

"I feel something, professor," she lied, urging her shirt down over her left shoulder along with her bra strap. "I know you do, too."

He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the skin she had just exposed, clearly on the verge of giving in to temptation.

"I can't have sex with a student," he said more to himself than to her.

She shrugged. "No prob. I'll just suck you off."

The minute she said that, she felt him harden beneath her. The guy was pretty well endowed. Maybe this would be fun after all. By all means, he wasn't a horrible looking middle-aged man.

"Do you have a wife, professor?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"And does she satisfy you?"

For a moment, he didn't reply. When he did, all he said was, "I love her."

"But does she satisfy you?" she inquired again. "'Cause I would. I guarantee you've never had it as good as me."

He didn't say anything in protest this time. She totally had him.

"And after you cum, I'm sure you'll be satisfied enough to change my grade," she added, making sure he didn't forget that important part.

He nodded slowly, looking too dumbfounded to speak.

"Good." She sank down onto the floor then, sat on her knees between his legs, and undid his pants. He groaned when she released him from his confinement and took him into her hands.

"Mmm," she murmured. "Yummy." And with that, she took him into her mouth and guaranteed herself an A+.

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

Michael always made it a point to look over the university's weekly newspaper, not because it was particularly interesting, but because there was always a section about new students. He liked to see which girls had just transferred, whether they were worth fucking or not. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any standouts. Too bad.

Maria walked in the door while he was eating his dinner and flipping through the rest of the paper. She practically skipped over to the table and set a research paper down in front of him. She didn't say anything, but his interest was piqued.

He held up the paper and examined it while she danced into the kitchen and noticed a peculiar white-out blotch in the top right-hand corner. A+ was the grade now, but he had a sneaking suspicion it hadn't always been.

"How'd you pull this off?" he asked her.

She smiled. "I'm just smart like that."

He laughed. "What, did you screw your professor?"

"Like I said, I'm smart."

He shook his head and set the paper down. Of course. It made all the sense in the world that his slutty friend would act . . . well, slutty.

"But for the record," she said, coming back over toward the table, "I didn't screw him. I just gave him head."

"This wasn't some ninety year-old professor, was it?"

"No, he was totally middle-aged."

He chuckled and rose to his feet, feeling the urge to tease coming on. "That's dirty, Maria."

"Oh please, like you've never used sex bribes on your teachers before."

He shrugged. "Oh, once or twice . . . twelve times."

"See?"

"But those professors were hot," he added quickly. He'd never do anyone who wasn't good to look at.

"Professor Jackson's hot," she said.

"I bet he's not."

"Hotter than you."

"Oh, now that's just impossible."

"No, contrary to what you believe, everyone's hotter than you. Kyle. Max. Brad Pitt."

"Brad Pitt can't hold a candle to me," he said confidently.

"Face it, Michael," she said. "You're ugly."

"You're dirty."

"Am not!"

"Are, too!"

"Well, proud of it, then!" she roared. She jumped in front of him and all of a sudden burst into song and dance. "U-G-L-Y! You ain't got no alibi! You ugly! Hey, hey, you ugly! Woo!" She ended by pushing her butt towards him, so he countered by spanking her. Hard.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, cupping the cheek where he hit her.

"Come on, dirty girl! You like that!"

"Not from you, ugly boy!"

He spanked her again.

"Uh!" She glared at him, grabbed her faux A+ paper, spun, and marched off down the hallway to her bedroom. He followed her, simply because he had nothing better to do.

"Uh-uh, you can't come in here," she said, spinning to face him in her doorway. "I'm gonna have phone sex with Horatio now."

"Oh, sounds riveting," he mumbled sarcastically. He could just imagine it, the fake orgasms and the Spanglish.

"Don't listen in this time!" she said, slamming the door in his face.

"Have fun, dirty girl!" he shouted through the closed door.

"U-G-oh, just forget it!"

He chuckled and decided to leave her alone . . . until he felt like teasing her again, of course. Pissing Maria off had to be one of his favorite things in the world.

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

Max liked to do his studying outside. There was something nice about sitting on the grass beneath the shade of a tree that he found relaxing. Even though he was running software on a laptop and using a scientific calculator, he felt like he was one with nature.

Hmm, maybe it's because of weird thoughts like that that I don't have a girlfriend, he thought to himself.

"Excuse me?"

He looked up when he heard someone speak to him. Actual words. Amazing. Usually people only talked to him to ask him what party Michael and Maria and Kyle were attending that night. It was common knowledge that he was only considered cool because of who his friends were.

"Hi," he said to the petite brunette girl who stood before him. What did she want? Was she one of Michael's girls? She probably was.

"Hi," she returned. "I was wondering, do you know where the Lancing Library is?"

An actual question, one that didn't revolve around his roommates. Truly amazing. "Uh, yeah," he answered. "You know where the Union is?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take a right where it says bike path. That'll take you straight to the library."

"Oh, okay," she said. "Thanks."

And with that, she was gone. That had to be the first social interaction he'd had in a long time that wasn't with his friends or his parents.

He felt depression seeping in after that as he started to feel sorry for himself. He didn't like feeling that way, but he couldn't help it.

When he glanced up and saw Maria standing in front of him in the distance, he started feeling even worse. She was surrounded by a group of guys, of course, smiling and flirting and doing all the things she did well. She was beautiful.

He sighed, settling for watching her from afar like he always did. It didn't matter that he lived with her, that he had lived with her for almost four years now, or that they'd sat together on the bus on the first day of high school. He would always be on the outside of her life, a friend but nothing more. Nothing closer. Because he wasn't her type. He refused to treat her like a one night stand. He wanted a relationship, and he doubted she would ever want that. With anyone. Let alone him.

He stared down at his computer screen again, determined to get some work done, determined not to think about the girl who set his heart on fire.




TBC . . .

-April

Hey, guys! Thanks for all the feedback! I'm glad none of you seemed to be too grossed out about Maria and her prof. It's bad, I know, but . . .

Alright, so here's the next part. The song included is "Shake" by the Ying Yang Twins. Part of it's in Spanish, I think, so I don't really know what it's saying, but it's a good song to dance to. Enjoy!





Part 4

Maria was in good spirits when she got home that night. She'd scheduled an impromptu dance team practice that evening, and even though her subordinates weren't very happy about it, she felt better. Their routine looked much more like a championship routine now. She had no doubt that they would win.

"All my people, all my people, grab a partner, take it down," she sang as she danced into the living room that night.

Michael, who was sitting on the couch and watching TV like a lump on a log, smirked and said, "Actually, taking it down is what you do best."

"I'm not even gonna dignify that with a response."

"That's just a fancy way of admitting I'm right."

Kyle came up from downstairs then, dressed as if he were going out. "Hey, Maria, you're finally home."

"Yeah, dance team stuff."

"Well, why don't you get ready. We can all go out tonight."

"Sorry, can't," she said. "State competition's tomorrow. I can't risk being hung-over or fucked so hard I can't see straight." She shrugged. "Sacrifices."

"Oh, that sucks," Kyle said.

"Yeah, a night without booze and sex. How will dirty girl ever survive?" Michael teased.

She rolled her eyes and looked over as Max came out of his bedroom. He was pretty dressed up in khaki pants and a nice black shirt. "Max, you look hot," she said. "Trying to win over some girl tonight?"

"No, not really," he replied quietly.

Poor Max. He was so shy. Maybe if he just came out of his shell a little more, he'd get a girlfriend.

"Well, don't party too hard," she cautioned. "I need you at competition tomorrow."

"Of course I'll be there," he promised. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Aw . . ." Michael said.

"Shut up," she barked at him. "What about you, Kyle? You gonna be there?"

"Hell, yeah. I made a sign," he replied emphatically.

"Seriously?"

"No, but I'll be there. Tess and Isabel won't, but they wanted me to tell you good luck."

"Oh, that's sweet." She glanced over at Michael again and said, "I don't suppose you'll make an appearance?"

"I don't suppose I will," he replied. "Why, you want me to be there?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"I guess it doesn't really matter. Your presence does nothing to me."

He grinned and said in that self-assured way of his, "Oh, my presence makes you hot."

She made a gagging sound and brought her hand up to cover her mouth. "Sorry," she said. "Just threw up a little."

"Hey, Guerin, you should go," Kyle said, plopping down on the couch next to his friend. "State competition's awesome, really."

"Hmm, I don't know," he said. "Entice me."

Kyle went to work. "Well, hundreds upon hundreds of girls . . ."

"I'm enticed." Michael smiled.

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

What a beautiful day, Michael thought to himself as he sat and watched performance after performance at the dance competition the next day. This was heaven. Had to be. These girls were so hot and so in shape; there wasn't an overweight or ugly one in the bunch. And hell, they knew how to move. Plus, some of the outfits they wore . . . miniscule and therefore perfect. And talk about flexibility! These girls were goddesses.

Of course, it had been his intention to attend this competition all along. No way would he miss this. It was easily one of the highlights of his year. Even next year after he'd already graduated, he'd be coming back to view.

"Whoa," Kyle said, obviously fantasizing just as much as Michael was. "Don't tell Isabel and Tess, but I'm thoroughly enjoying myself."

"Oh, yeah," Michael agreed, practically salivating as a bombshell blonde with legs as long as miles stalked by. "What about you, Max?" he asked his quieter friend. "Pick your favorite."

"Well, I really liked the last team, the ones that did the jazz dance," he said. "I thought their technical precision was outstanding."

Michael and Kyle both gave each other what-the-hell looks and laughed out loud.

"Dude!" Michael said. "Not the dances, the bitches."

"They're not bitches," Max mumbled, sounding uncomfortable as he said that derogatory word.

"I guarantee they are," Michael said. "I bet they all fuck good."

"We should find him one," Kyle suggested.

"Yeah."

"No, guys, don't," Max said.

"Oh, come on, Maxwell," Michael urged. "They're dancers."

"No, I really just-I wanna sit here and watch the performances."

"What about that girl?" Kyle pointed out a curvy girl who had an ass like Jennifer Lopez. "Hot."

"No, that," Michael said, pointing to a blonde girl who was bending over to the side and stretching. She had her back to him, so he couldn't see her face, but he didn't need to. Just the backside alone was enough to get him hard as a rock. She was wearing tight black Capri pants that really emphasized her nice, compact ass and her long, long legs; and all she was wearing on top was basically a black sports bra. What an enticing, flat stomach was left exposed. "Look at her," he said. "I like that. I'd do that in a heartbeat."

Kyle followed his gaze and said, "Uh, Guerin . . ."

"Bend her over the table and just--"

The girl stood back up then, and he saw her face when she turned around. Maria?

"Oh, no," he quickly tried to recover, wishing he hadn't just said all that stuff. "I don't . . . I wouldn't . . ." Shit. "I was talkin' about the girl next to her."

"Right," Kyle said, obviously seeing right through the flimsy lie.

Michael shook his head and shuddered ferociously, disgusted with himself. Maria DeLuca was not fuckable. She wasn't even hot. Not to him, anyway. Well, no she was hot. Even he knew that. Just . . . his mind had just been playing tricks on him. Or something like that.

"They're sure not wearing much," Max commented about his own dance team.

"And therein, my friend, lies the fun," Kyle responded.

Speaking of fun . . . Michael thought when a sexy blonde girl sat down beside him. She was a dancer. He could tell because of the outfit she was wearing.

"I totally biffed my triple turn," she said to her friends.

He turned to face her and smiled. When her friends pointed him out to her, she turned and smiled back at him, and he thought to himself, This competition just got interesting.

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

"Maria, I'm forgetting the whole dance."

"No, you'll be fine," Maria assured one of her freshman dancers as they prepared to take the floor.

"No, really, I can't remember anything."

"You'll remember it once you get out there. Girls, huddle up."

The team formed a circle around Maria and leaned in close to hear what she had to say.

"Okay, four rules," she said. "Have precision. Have energy. Have fun. And for God's sake, have sexiness, because we all know that's how you get things in life."

Her team nodded eagerly in agreement.

"Alright, get ready."

"I still don't remember the dance," the freshman girl said.

Maria rolled her eyes. Every year there was one girl whose nerves started to get the best of her.

"And now it's time for our two-time defending champions," the announcer bellowed loudly. "Led by captain Maria DeLuca, last year's Choice Choreographer, from the University of Santa Fe, it's the Sun Rays dance team!"

Maria yelled and led her team out onto the gym floor in a rally, loving the thunderous applause they-or more precisely she-received from the audience. Lots of the other captains scowled at her because they were jealous, and she loved that, too.

They took their positions in a big clump on the floor and waited for the music to start. Once it did, they started moving, not very fast at first, building up the anticipation. Maria didn't even have to think about the choreography. She'd done it so many times, and it was genius.

The edgy hip hop song slowly picked up in melody, and their dancing matched. For the first few eight-counts, they hit sharp, direct movements. As the song continued to build, though, their movements became bigger, more powerful, and the crowd cheered them on. Once the chorus kicked in, though, they went wild dancing, and the crowd went wild cheering.

"Shake, shake, just shake, shake

Just shake, shake

Just shake, chica, shake shake!"

And that was exactly what they did. Booty-popping, never stopping.

"Shake, shake, just shake, shake

Just shake, shake

Just shake, chica, shake shake!"

God, she loved knowing she was the hottest thing ever.

"Mentirosa! Mentirosa!"

She led the rest of the girls forward in a sexy walk and they executed a precise, difficult quadruple turn. Most of the other teams wouldn't have been able to do that.

"Mentirosa!"

Add in a few attitude moves, a double body roll, and a spin, and they were really on fire.

"Dale buebo! Dale buebo!"

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

Michael dragged his new blonde companion beneath the bleachers, too impatient to go find the bathrooms or the locker room or somewhere else suitable. He hoped she wouldn't mind a few cobwebs. As far as he was concerned, the location was a turn-on.

"I've never done it standing up before," she said with a giggle.

"First time for everything." He lifted up her skirt and tried to figure out how to go about what was underneath. It wasn't exactly underwear. Actually, it looked like her whole dance ensemble was connected, one outfit. Where did he start with this? How was he supposed to get inside?

"It's a complicated outfit," she said.

"Don't worry. I'll get it off you," he promised, reaching around her back to undo a zipper. Oh yeah, that was it. He was on his way now.

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

Oh yeah, you want me, Maria thought as she executed a move commonly referred to as the "hooker roll" and made eye contact with a cute blonde guy staring at her from the bleachers. She'd definitely have to hook up with him later. He was fine.

Their dance was pure hip hop, lots of popping, lots of locking, lots of strong, hard-hitting movements. It was something that had always come naturally for her, luckily, because it was really a man-magnet. Any girl who could feel the music and move to the music the way she did was guaranteed a wide range of suitors.

A few more shakes and shimmies later, and this dance was the quintessential nasty dance, the kind that won championships.

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

Michael was ecstatic when he finally got his girl undressed. It definitely was a complicated outfit, but there was nothing he couldn't get a girl out of.

He undid his pants quickly and slid them down around his ankles. Then he yanked her up into his arms, and she wrapped his legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He slammed into her almost violently, causing her to moan and throw her head back. It was a good thing she didn't seem to be the romantic type, because this was going to be a rough and tumble. He just wanted to cum and brag about it later.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped, barely managing to hold onto him.

He thrust into her hard, yearning to climax. Public sex with a hot girl . . . wouldn't take either of them long.

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

Maria brought out all the stops for the end of the dance.

"That ho's fine! But, but, but, but this one's a killer!"

A sexy head roll and full-on body popping.

"That ho's fine! But, but, but, but this one's a killer!"

Add in some booty-popping floor work, and people were on their feet.

"That ho's fine! But, but, but, but this one's a killer!"

A sexy leg-extension didn't hurt.

"That ho's fine! But, but, but, but this one's a killer!"

She ended the dance front and center, of course, in the horizontal splits, making direct eye contact with the judge, noting the smiles on their faces. Nasty judges. They liked nasty.

Anyone who wasn't on their feet before stood up then and roared with cheers and applause. It was pretty obvious that the championship was, once again, in the Santa Fe Sun Ray bag.

Maria got to her feet, and she and the rest of the girls rallied off in excitement the performance floor in excitement.

"I remembered the dance!" the freshman girl squealed.

"Alright!" the announcer exclaimed, sounding just as excited as the audience. "There they are, ladies and gentlemen, the two-time champions of the New Mexico Dance and Drill Team Championships, the Santa Fe Sun Rays! Will this be their third championship in a row? We'll find out soon enough, because we've only got a few teams left."

"That was awesome," Courtney said, actually upbeat and positive for once. "We are all getting guys tonight."

Maria laughed. It was true. For the next couple weeks, men all over Santa Fe would be clamoring to hook up with a member of the university's championship dance team.

Just then, though, in the midst of that wonderful celebration, some girl somewhere in the gymnasium literally screamed at the top of her lungs, "Oh, fuck!"

The crowd went absolutely silent, and a few people started to laugh and whisper.

"Fuck me!"

Maria glanced up into the bleachers and saw Kyle and Max sitting there, looking around innocently as if they didn't know anything. But Michael wasn't sitting there. Of course not. He was undoubtedly the reason for the screaming girl and, therefore, the destroyer of her perfect moment.

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

Maria didn't say a word to Michael on the way home. That was a pretty clear indicator that she had a bug up her ass about something.

When they got home and walked inside the house, he straight-out asked her, "Are you pissed?"

She whirled to face him and said, "Duh!"

Was that supposed to mean yes or no? "That doesn't answer my question."

"Yes, I'm pissed!" she roared.

"Why?"

"Because once again, you took a moment that was completely about me and made it about you!"

He sighed. "Okay, look, I can't help that the girl was a screamer."

"This is exactly why I didn't want you there! I knew you'd end up doing someone!"

"Hey, just be happy I didn't fuck a girl on your team!"

"Oh, god, you just don't get it, do you?" she ground out.

"No!"

Kyle came inside cautiously and piped up, "Actually, Maria, I gotta go with Michael on this one. Why are you this pissed off? You guys still won."

"Yes, but I didn't get the Choice Choreographer award this year," she explained, "and you know why? Because of him!" She pointed a finger at Michael.

"That's bullshit!" he roared.

"No, the judges were too busy thinking about the loud, obnoxious sex you were having to give my awesome choreography their full consideration!"

"Or," he suggested, "there was just a better choreographer."

She gasped in outrage and said, "Okay! That's it! I'm not talking to you for the rest of my life!"

He chuckled, willing to let her try (and ultimately fail) with the silent treatment. "Okay."

"Starting now!" She grabbed her team's oversized trophy and marched down the hallway to her bedroom, slamming the door as hard as she could.

God, she was so crazy. "3, 2, 1," he counted down.

She swung the door open again at that exact moment and shouted, "You're such an ass!" And then she slammed it again.

Oh yeah, he thought amusedly. She won't be talking to me at all.

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

The next day, Maria forced herself to attend Debate 101, by far her least favorite class. It was one of those that she wouldn't even take if she didn't need some kind of general speech requirement. Stupid. Stupid, stupid college.

What sucked beyond belief was having to stand up in front of the entire hundred-person class and do spontaneous debates. You didn't even get to pick if you were the pro or the con point of view. The professor just told you what viewpoint to take and to argue it.

On that particular day, Maria was sentenced to take the con position of sexual education in high schools. At first she thought sexual education meant teaching students how to put on condoms and the like, but when the girl debating the pro position started talking, she quickly figured out it was more birds and the bees stuff.

"So why start sex education as early as kindergarten? That's ridiculous. Young kids like that aren't even thinking about sex. They have no idea what sex is and they don't want to know, so why even put the idea in their heads? But . . . age-appropriate sexual education would be beneficial, especially because some teenagers aren't fortunate enough to have parents willing to enlighten them. But if sexual education is to be taught in schools, it needs to be with parental consent and under no circumstances mandatory; because, let's face it, we're not dealing with math problems or sentence structure here. We're dealing with an act of physicality that often has life-altering results, and it's always going to be controversial. Thank you."

"Thank you, Liz," the professor said with a congratulatory sound in his voice.

This Liz girl was really good. She must have been new on campus, because Maria couldn't recall seeing her before. It was pretty clear that she was the brainy type.

"Maria, response?" the professor urged.

She drew a huge blank. Huger than huge. Everything Liz had said sounded totally cool to her. "Uh . . ." Personally, all the sex education in the world wouldn't help her. She was going to have it and have it often. "What she said?" she tried.

A few people in the class laughed, but the professor wasn't one of them. He glanced at his watch and sighed heavily. "Come back tomorrow with an argument prepared, Miss DeLuca."

"Will do." Or not.

"Class is dismissed."

As the rest of the students flocked out, Maria caught up with Liz in the hallway and said, "Hey, you were really good in there."

"Really?" Liz seemed happy to hear that.

"Yeah, I wish I could get my words to come out like that, but they're all . . . bad."

Liz laughed. "I'm sure that's not true."

"No, really, it is. The only person I can debate with is this friend of mine, and that's only 'cause he's an idiot." She laughed a little, wondering how many arguments she had won and Michael had lost. "I don't know. I wouldn't even be taking debate if I didn't have to. God, I just-I wish I could do that like you."

"Well, I wish I could dance like you," Liz quickly put in. "I saw you at the competition yesterday. You were amazing."

"Well, I'm a Dance major. I'm supposed to be."

"Oh, I just can't get my body to move like that. I mean, if I could, I would. I'm sure boys love it."

"Boys?" Maria laughed at the word. "Men, Liz. Or at least guys."

"Right," she said. "Sometimes I still feel like I'm back in high school."

"Are you a freshman?"

"Yep. Just transferred here, too. Fish out of water."

"Where'd you transfer from?" Maria asked, surprised that she was taking a genuine interest.

"UNL," Liz replied.

Maria gave her a questioning look.

"Oh, that's Lincoln."

"Gonna have to give me more than that." Geography was totally not her thing.

Liz smiled. "Nebraska."

"Oh." Still . . . "That's where they have all the corn, right?"

"Right."

"Well, how's New Mexico treating you?"

Liz shrugged. "Not bad. I haven't really made any friends, though."

"Well, relax," Maria said as they headed outside. "You've made one now."

TBC . . .

-April