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| CHAPTER 53 "...and he didn't even mention it, Liz!" Maria clutched her cell phone as she dropped her bag on her dresser. "Not only does he blow me off for dinner, and run out on me at the Crashdown, and ignore me all day, but when he finally calls, it's all 'Hey, Maria,' like nothing happened." She sat on the end of her bed, studying the message in lip liner that still covered her mirror. It made it harder to get ready in the mornings, trying to see her reflection between the strokes of the scrawled message, but she still wasn't going to get rid of it. "Maybe he didn't know how to talk to you about it," Liz was saying on the other end. "No, he's all 'How's it going?' and then he said he needed to go. So what was the whole point of calling me in the first place?" "You did leave him a message asking him to call you," Liz reminded. "He called you back; isn't that an improvement from last time?" "I guess. It was just infuriating. I mean, it's like one step forward, seventeen steps back with him, you know? At this rate, after the movie tomorrow, he�ll probably forget we even met." "Well, that�s not terribly likely," Liz pointed out. With a sigh, Maria admitted, "I know that. But that doesn�t make it any easier, you know?" There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. "Maria, you're not having second thoughts, are you? About the date?" "Of course not, Liz. Why would I have second thoughts?" Maria protested as she sat on the edge of her bed. "It�s just... well, the last time Spaceboy and I went on a date it didn't work out so well, remember? And it didn't help to have you and Mr. Perfect Evans there showing us up." "Neither Max nor I will be at your date tomorrow, so you don't have to worry about it." "I�m not worried. I mean, I'm going to be spending time with Michael, which is what I want. Plus, he promised I could pick the movie." "He did?" "Uh-huh. Except now I can't decide what to choose. I mean, I could make him see something he'd never in a million years choose, like What Women Want, but it's not as fun if he's not going to argue about it." Maria found herself smiling. "Or we could see Vertical Limit, which he'd probably hate a lot less, but then it's kind of like he won, you know?" "Comedy?" Liz asked. "Nothing good playing." "Horror?" "I think we've had enough of that around here without watching it on film, thank you very much." Liz chuckled. "I know what you mean, 'Ria." "Oh well, it's still two hours in a dark theater with Michael," Maria said, feeling a little more upbeat. "And if I play my cards right, maybe we won't see much of the movie anyway." "Maria!" But her best friend didn't sound shocked, just amused. ***** With a grunt, Michael dropped down onto the couch, ignoring greetings from the Evans siblings. He crossed his arms over his chest and wondered how long he'd be stuck there before he could escape. "Can I get you something to drink?" Tess offered brightly, playing the perfect hostess. "A Coke or something?" Michael emitted another grunt, this one slightly in the affirmative. Tess seemed to get it, though; with a small smile, she headed for the kitchen. "You're late," Max said calmly as he shuffled through the copies Michael had drawn during their last translation attempt. "Yeah, so?" Michael waited a moment; when it became obvious that neither Max nor Isabel was going to comment further, he asked, "So what's the plan of attack this time, Commander-in-Chief?" "We'll keep trying to decipher the book," Max said. Michael gave a derisive snort. "It worked last time," Isabel pointed out. "You made the connection between the book and the handprints in the cave." "Yeah, for all the good that did us," Michael grumbled half-heartedly, but he reached for the book. "Okay, fine then. What do you want me to do? Make more copies?" "You mean you'd actually follow our instructions?" Isabel said. "This is Maximillian's little project, not mine. Not yours either, Iz--so you don't need to give me any instructions, do you?" He turned to Max. "So copies or what?" "We already started a chart of the symbols," Tess put in as she re-entered the room. "How many times they occur and in what combinations. We could continue with that." She set a soft drink on a coaster in front of Michael. Grabbing it, he took a swig, savoring the heat of the hot sauce she'd added. "So hand it over then," he added, reaching out again for the book. "I'll do more copies and you guys can count." "How's the practice coming?" Isabel asked as Max handed over the metal-paged volume, then tossed a pencil to Michael. "Practice?" Max asked. "Michael's been working on his powers," she reminded him. "So how's it going?" Taking a moment to focus, Michael summoned up a small ball of light and sent it careening around the room, darting over Tess' head and circling around them, much like the obstacle course he and Alex had set up in his apartment. When he finally let it flicker out of existence, he looked over at his rather startled friends. "Dunno. You tell me." "Michael, that was incredible!" Tess breathed. "Yeah, they call me the Amazing Firefly," he said with a shrug. Isabel, though no less impressed, was more practical. "What about the rest?" "Changing metal still sucks," Michael admitted. And he'd worked on that. A lot. "But other stuff is getting easier." "That's great, Michael," Max put in, his voice warm. "Yeah, we'll save a fortune on fireworks come July," Michael said sarcastically. "Or the next time we have a power outage." "Shut up, Iz." "Or need to jumpstart a car," she added. "Michael's not so good in the automotive industry," Max pointed out with a grin. "Remember when he blew up the Jetta?" "Shut up, Maxwell." Tess, who'd been watching the back-and-forth like a spectator at a tennis match, smiled. "Too bad he can't jumpstart our brains, then, so we could read the rest of the book." Michael opened his mouth to retort, but before any words could come, what she'd said registered. He glanced over at Max, then Isabel. From their expressions, they were on the same track as he was, but no one said anything. Maybe they were scared to. Not that he was scared, exactly, but what if it would actually work? Finally Tess broke the silence. "What did I say?" What the hell. "Jumpstart isn't the right word," Michael said slowly. "But if I can connect with you and--" Isabel leaned forward. "Nudge?" "--maybe it can get us through this block." The rush of excitement Michael felt didn't show on his best friend's face. "I don�t know. It could be risky," Max said slowly. Bridling, Michael shot to his feet. "I'm supposed to be good at making connections, right? Or at least I was, that's what Nasedo said. Maybe that's the reason I was included in on this whole interplanetary rebirth thing, anyway. I sure wasn't one of the Royals, remember?" Tess' voice was plaintive as she asked, "Would somebody please explain what you're all talking about?" Max looked at his second. "Michael?" "Go ahead and tell her. I don't want to talk about it," Michael said after a moment. He began to pace across the room, his mind busy, only half listening as Isabel and Max told Tess what they knew of his history. Nasedo had said he was good at making connections, right? That was his specialty, before his sister's death transformed him into some kind of a power plant. And he'd been concentrating on the other side of his powers, trying to get a strong enough handle on them to finish his secret project. He hadn't tried connecting with anyone since he and Nasedo had dealt with the other shapeshifter--Michael didn't want to think of him as his uncle. Maybe he should have been practicing connections instead. Max could connect; he did it when he healed, and so did Isabel, to dreamwalk. But if it had been Michael's strong suit, how much better could he be at it? Maybe he could connect all four of them, kind of like the way the light in the cave had zoomed through their handprints. Maybe he could-- He heard his name, pulling him from his thoughts. The three others faced him. He didn't look at Tess; he didn't want any more pity. Max looked a little grim. "Let's try it," he said. "I have the most experience with connections, so try with me." Suddenly, Michael didn't feel so sure of things. What if he reverted back to his old self and screwed it up? Messed up Max's brain, the way he'd messed his own up...or even worse, blew his best friend up? "No. It should be me." Tess sounded very firm, and quite unworried. "If it's an experiment, we shouldn't risk you, Max. You're the king. Besides, Michael knows both of you better than me. If he can connect with me, it should be even easier with you two." Michael found himself, somewhat to his surprise, still reluctant. "I don't want to blow you up, either," he said gruffly. He could hardly miss how Tess' eyes lit up. Did she really feel so left out of things that not wishing her a gruesome death was a prize? Michael decided he didn't want to think about it. "Yeah, whatever," he said, not really in response to anything. "So we gonna do this or what?" "Yes," Tess said without hesitation. She pushed him back over to his former spot on the couch and shoved the glasses, books and papers aside to perch on the coffee table in front of him. "Go ahead, then." "Uh, I'm just gonna try to connect and then, I don't know, give you a boost or something," Michael said, feeling awkward as he reached out to her. "I gotta touch you, I think." But Tess, with no reluctance, slipped her hand into his. Michael cast one glance over at Isabel and Max. "If it looks like something's going wrong, stop me," he ordered. Max nodded gravely. "Nothing's going to go wrong," Isabel assured him. Somehow, he wasn't entirely convinced. Still, he'd give it a shot. Tightening his fingers around Tess's hand--and noticing that it was even smaller than Maria's, and that her fingers were cold--he took a breath and closed his eyes. The connection came easily, and with more confidence Michael addressed himself to the matter at hand. When he'd connected to Nasedo in order to imprison Bob, he'd needed a lot of prodding from the shapeshifter to get the connection in place. This time, it came without effort, and he could feel Tess's power building as he fed it. Loud laughter, male and female, pulled him away from his focus; he snatched his hand away from Tess's, opening his eyes. "What?" he snapped. But Max and Isabel weren't looking at him. They sat, hunched over, laughter exploding out of them. Isabel actually looked less poised than Michael had ever seen before. She looked at Tess and gasped out, "Kyle Valenti in a tutu?" "Many, many Kyles in tutus," Max corrected her, still laughing. "I lost count after eight." Michael swung around to look at Tess in confusion. "It was so easy!" she said. "Almost no work at all. And I kept adding images and it never got any harder." Isabel was a little calmer now, though a wide smile still graced her face. "But why that particular image?" "I wanted to show you something you knew wasn't real," Tess explained. "Besides," she added with a shrug as she stood and moved back around to the other side of the coffee table, "Kyle's got good legs." "Oh?" Max said quizzically. "I hadn't noticed." "If we can cut the comedy, maybe we can focus on the fact that it actually worked," Michael said rather roughly. "Well, of course it worked," Isabel replied, sounding indignant. "I told you it would, didn�t I?" Michael didn�t exactly remember it like that, but whatever. It wouldn�t pay to argue with her about it, not when there were more important things to think about. "Try me next," Isabel commanded. "Since when do you get to give me orders?" Michael grumbled, but he reached for her hand. It was even easier this time, as if connecting to Tess had just been a mild warm-up. And then he was reaching across for Tess with his free hand, and pulling her into the mix. The power thrumming through them felt different now--more complex and yet purer at the same time. Concentrating, he barely saw the two girls reach out and change the coffee table between them from wood to plastic, then metal and glass. It flowed from form to form like liquid. Max grabbed for Isabel�s free hand. Without really thinking about it, Michael reached through the golden-brown that was Isabel until he found the deep green that was Max, and pulled him into the connection. It felt complete. He could do anything, mend anything, control everything, destroy the world, hold back death... anything he wanted. Nothing could stop him. He just needed to stretch out his hand and�- But his hands were being held, and he couldn�t release them. He couldn�t get free. What had happened to his power? He was caught. Trapped-- "No!" he shouted, yanking his hands from the girls� and breaking the connection. Blinking, he sat collapsed in his seat, taking deep, shuddering breaths. The others looked at each other, not saying anything. Finally, Max spoke. "Well..." he breathed, then trailed off. "That was amazing!" Tess piped up. Smiling, she raised a shaking hand to push her hair behind her ear, then dropped into an empty chair. "Quite a rush," Isabel agreed. "If you could bottle that, you�d make a fortune." Strange, thought Michael. None of them seemed to have had the same experience he had. Otherwise they�d be acting a little more�well, weirded out by it all. He certainly was. "You guys didn�t...you know, lose control?" "No, nothing like that," Isabel said. "It just felt like I could see everything. Like I was flying above the world, and I could see everything people did, or said, even what they thought." "Like dreamwalking everyone at once?" asked Max. His sister nodded. "It wasn't like that for me," Tess put in. "But I could control them. Make them all see whatever I wanted them to, without even trying. If I wanted to." That wasn't particularly reassuring. "What about you, Maxwell?" Michael asked. Max looked at Isabel. "I could see, too, but I could see everything wrong. Sickness, death, poverty, pain...It was almost overwhelming. I could see it all, and I knew I could fix it. All of it. Without even breaking a sweat." "Great. I�m surrounded by Sally the Psychic, Machiavelli, and Mother Teresa on steroids," Michael burst out. "You didn�t feel it?" Max asked, surprised. "Yeah, I felt it. All of it. It felt...powerful." Isabel frowned. "And that�s bad?" she asked. Bad? It hadn't felt bad at all, not until the end. That part wasn't so good. "Dunno." "In any case, we proved that you can connect us," Max said. "For all the good it does us." "But wasn�t that the whole point?" Tess put in, maddeningly reasonable. "Thought the point was to try and read the book, not to make you three all-powerful," Michael snapped. Max frowned. "I don't think that's what we meant, Michael." "Oh yeah? Then how come I--" Michael cut himself off. "Well, anyway, are we going to try and read this thing or not?" "Michael--" Isabel scolded, sounding exasperated. "Well?" he said, not backing down. "Let's see if connecting helped," Max said, trying to calm things. Reaching for the book, he opened it and studied the first page, then flipped through it, stopping here and there. Finally he looked up. "Nothing." Some of the excitement in Tess's eyes died down, and Isabel sighed. "We'd better continue on the way we were," Max directed. Michael rolled his eyes. Great. More copying, then. He reached out and grabbed the book. Tess's and Isabel's hands got there first. "Let me take--" "I'd like to--" Both cut off as Michael's hand joined theirs on the book Max was holding out. Or rather as a light shot up from the page under Michael's hand and spread in a sudden burst to where Max held on, then to Isabel's hand and Tess's. The light flashed into such brightness Michael could hardly see anything, then with a quick flicker it died out as suddenly as it had come. "What the hell?" He let go of the book and leaned back into the couch, blinking hard to try and clear his head. But Max was still staring at the book, and so were the others. "I can read it!" Isabel said, her voice quivering in excitement. Max nodded, his eyes scanning the pages. Michael glanced sideways at the book. "Yeah, of course you can read it. It's in English, Iz." Sure enough, the alien characters had shifted to familiar letters. "So it didn't really need to jumpstart our brains, it just needed to translate itself," Max said. "Maybe it needed to read our minds to know how to translate it," mused Isabel. "And it must have needed all four of us touching it to set it off," Tess added, trying to read the page upside down from her spot across the coffee table. "That has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Three heads turned away from the book. "Michael," Isabel began. "Do you always have to be so rude? Tess is absolutely right--" "Not Tess. I know she's right--I was here when the whole thing happened, remember? I mean the idiots who wrote the thing. Making it take all four of us to be able to read it? Stupid. What if one of us had been killed or something? Where would their fantastic plan to save the world be then, huh?" "Guys? I don't read upside down very well, even if it is in English," Tess broke in. "What does it say?" PART 54 Slumping back into the recesses of the couch, Michael watched as Isabel and Tess clustered around Max. Their erstwhile leader was still holding the book he'd just finished reading aloud, the pages that were all about the king and his link to the planet, and to his people along with it. The being who would be reborn, to save the planet and those people, according to prophecy. The king who inhabited the body of his best friend. Only problem was, it didn't say how Max was supposed to do it. All it talked about was how vital this 'king-bond' was to the health of the planet, like the whole planet was some sort of symbiotic parasite, needing its partner to thrive. Just like Bob had told him, before he was forcibly shifted into concrete... Michael shook his head, deliberately ignoring the girls as they jabbered away at Max. He'd thought the connection he'd forced on Maria was bad - though she didn't seem to mind. How much worse was this link of Max's? He hadn't had much choice about it, either. Sure, given the chance to help all those people--as long as it didn't hurt any of the people he cared about--Max would say yes. Hell, even Michael would probably say yes. But it wasn't up to him. "I don't know," said Max, answering a question Michael hadn't heard. "It's a lot to take in." "So do you feel it, Max? This link with our planet?" Tess asked with excitement. Frowning, he replied, "I don't think so. At least, I can't tell anything's there." "Well, home is a long way away," she offered. Uh-oh. She didn't know. But then she hadn't been there when Nasedo had confirmed it, that night in his apartment. And no one had thought to tell her... "Tess?" Michael blurted. "It's not home. Not any more." She looked up at him, her brow wrinkled. "What do you mean?" "We can't go back there. When they recreated us, they had to change us so we could live here on Earth," he explained, looking down at his hands to avoid her eyes. "We can't go back." "How do you know?" she whispered after a moment. "Nasedo." "Oh." He glanced at her then. She bit her lip, then tossed her head. "What's next, then, Max?" she asked, turning back to the king. "I don't know," Max admitted. "It's good to know what the book says. But it's not enough. We need to know more before we can plan anything." Michael wasn't so sure waiting was a good idea. Now that they finally had a clue what was going on... Maybe there was a rush. It had already been fifty years. If their planet was--no, it wasn't their planet anymore. They were stuck with Earth. But if that other planet needed its king-link to thrive, what had happened to it during those years while Max was in the pod? For all they knew, the whole planet could be dead, and all its people with it. If not, maybe it needed help, and fast. And, once again, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He had the sudden urge to punch something. Hard. Instead, he stood. "I got stuff to do anyway," he said. Max nodded. "Okay. Let's meet up to talk about this again later in the week, once we've had some time to think. And we should let the others know about it." "Let me guess, Max. You'll call Liz?" asked Isabel. "She's very logical. She can probably help us figure out-" He paused when he saw the smile bloom on his sister's face. "Yes. I'll call Liz." "Kyle," claimed Tess quickly. "I've got Alex. That leaves you with Maria, Michael." Michael grunted, and Isabel continued, "It's good. Now you'll have something to talk about on your date." "Yeah, right. We're going to a movie. She'll be pissed if I talk during it." "Then you'll just have to get her alone afterwards, won't you?" she pressed. If he was able to get Maria alone, it certainly wouldn�t be to talk about the book. But he limited his comments to a scornful headshake, and strode to the door. He'd go take his frustration out on a few inanimate objects. With luck, he could get some good practice in. ***** It was with no small amount of trepidation that Michael knocked on the Evanses' back door the next day. Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he shifted nervously from foot to foot. If he was this uneasy right now, how was he going to be when he saw Maria? Swallowing convulsively, he tried to ignore the queasiness in his belly. This was stupid. It was just Isabel. She'd vet his appearance, he'd ignore all her comments, and then he'd be off to pick Maria up...if you could call it picking up when you didn't have a car. But it was no big deal. It was just a date, right? He'd had them before. Well, one, officially. Of course, it had sucked... The door swinging open pulled him out of his thoughts. But it wasn't his almost-sister who stood there. "Maxwell." "Hi, Michael," his best friend answered as he moved aside to let Michael enter. "Thought you'd be at work," Michael commented. "The furnace at the U.F.O. Center broke down, and Milton can't get a new one installed until next week, so we're shut down." "You could fix it." "I could, but then I wouldn�t get a Christmas vacation, would I? And I'm not going to risk the attention. Besides, Isabel has been bugging me for help with the Christmas prep anyway." "Better you than me," Michael muttered. Leading the way into the kitchen, Max turned to study him. "So this is the famous date outfit?" "Yeah. What about it?" Michael shot out, feeling suddenly very defensive. A voice came from behind him. "It's almost perfect." "What do you mean, almost?" Michael swung warily around to face Isabel. "Take off your jacket," she ordered. "Let me see the whole thing." Michael didn't move. "You can see the whole thing just fine, Iz." "Jacket. Off," she insisted. With a sigh, Michael shrugged out of his jacket, feeling suddenly unprotected. Which was stupid, because the simple denim of the jacket wasn't exactly going to stop a bullet or anything. Isabel grabbed it from his hands, then thrust it at her brother so she could study the entire ensemble. "Almost perfect," she repeated to herself. Michael couldn't figure out what the problem was. He had--only somewhat reluctantly--put on the garments. He'd even given in to her demand and cleaned up his boots, though he'd had to use some manual labor to get them looking okay enough to pass muster with Iz. He wasn't about to tell her that, after getting dressed, he'd looked into the bathroom mirror--carefully avoiding his ruined cheek--and gotten as good a view of himself as he could manage in the small looking glass. Then he'd undressed and taken the second shower of the morning. He'd even shaved. It wasn't really that bad. He didn't feel exactly uncomfortable or anything; somehow Isabel had done a decent job with the fit. There was, to Michael's great relief, no necktie or girly color involved, just a simple long-sleeved black t-shirt, a soft burgundy pullover sweater, and dark gray cargo pants. He didn't feel stupid, or foolish, or anything. He just didn't feel quite like himself. But he wasn't going to admit any of it to Isabel, or Max, for that matter. She reached up towards him. At his involuntary twitch she snapped, "Hold still. I need to fix this." Fix what? Confused, he looked down and watched her smooth away some non-existent wrinkles. She studied him clinically, then reached out once more. "Enough," he said, stepping back. "We done yet?" Isabel's eyes rose to meet his. "I suppose so. You actually look very nice, Michael." Yeah. Like 'nice' was his goal in life. "Whatever." Putting his hand out towards Max, Michael snapped, "Jacket." But the garment that was laid over his arm was not the familiar, faded denim. "What the hell's this?" "Your jacket," Max answered with an all-too-innocent look. Right. "I'm not an idiot, you know. I can remember what I put on half an hour ago." He glared down at the sleek black leather hanging off his outstretched arm. "This isn't mine." "It is now." "Come on, Maxwell. Hand over the real one," Michael said, growing irritated. He didn't have time for this. "But this one will look so much better," Isabel interjected. "Besides, I think Maria has a thing for leather." "Yeah?" Michael asked, his interest piqued. She had worn head-to-toe black leather that one day during the so-called 'Spirit Week'. She'd looked pretty damn appetizing in it, too...But that wasn't the point. "Well, so what?" he added quickly. "Look, just give me my jacket." "Michael, just take it already!" "You know I don't do Christmas--" he snapped. "Who said anything about Christmas?" "And I sure as hell don't take charity!" Max sighed. "Michael, it's not charity." "Yeah, and I'm President of the Chess Club." "Really? I didn't know you played chess," Isabel put in dryly. "I wouldn't have thought that strategy was your strong suit." "I don't want--" "All right. Have it your way," Max said with another sigh. Reaching into the broom closet behind him, he pulled out the familiar denim. "Here." Michael looked at him, easily reading the disappointment that his best friend wasn't even trying to hide. Why did Max have to make him feel guilty for wanting to be independent? Not bothering to stifle the curse that came to his lips, Michael ignored the jacket Max held out and slid into the black leather. The scent of it teased his nostrils, and he took a deep breath of it before facing the others, glaring a challenge at them. Smiles graced both faces. "Thanks, Michael," Max said simply. Michael shrugged, the leather moving easily with the motion. "Thought that was supposed to be my line," he muttered. "We know you too well for that," Isabel said, but her tone was warm. That was hardly fair. The concept of gratitude wasn't entirely foreign to him. He'd thanked Isabel just yesterday, for dreamwalking Maria's uncle. That wasn't exactly out of the habit. Of course, that had been part of the bargain that had gotten him into this whole new clothes mess in the first place... Some of his thoughts must have hinted their way across his face, because Isabel rushed on, "You'd better get moving, Michael, or you're going to be late." With a start, Michael glanced at the wall clock. She was wrong; he had plenty of time to walk over to Maria's. But he grasped onto the excuse without hesitation. "Yeah. Gotta go," he mumbled. Without looking at either of them, he headed for the door. "See you, Michael," Max said behind him, while Isabel ordered knowingly, "Have fun!" With a small shake of the head, Michael let himself out the back door. He hadn't gotten very far when he heard Max calling after him. "Hey, Michael!" "What?" he answered with a sigh as he turned back around to face his friend, who was standing in the doorway. "Check out the pockets." "What?" he repeated, but thrust his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. His fingers met with something cool and hard. Fishing it out, he realized he held a familiar set of keys. Jeep keys. Max grinned at him. "Have it back by morning!" he called, then disappeared back inside. Michael was left standing there, keys in hand, speechless. ***** Swallowing hard, Michael took one last look behind him at the street. There was no one there, he noted with relief, to see him humiliate himself. If he did humiliate himself. Iz and Max seemed to think he'd be okay, but he wasn't sure about it. Still, time to bite the bullet. He took a deep breath and strode up to the DeLucas' front door. He was going to get this right if it killed him. Which it just might do. Squaring his shoulders, he knocked. Well, actually, he meant to knock, but it came out more like pounding. Great. He was already off to a bad start. He waited for a few moments, watching the door. It didn't open. He raised his fist to knock again, but let it drop before it hit the door. Maybe he had the wrong time. He didn't own a watch, after all. And he was probably early, since he had driven from the Evans house rather than walking. Or maybe she'd just changed her mind, and didn't want to go out with him. Maybe she wasn't even there. He turned to look, but there was no sign of the Jetta--maybe she'd left so she wouldn't have to run into him. Maybe her mother had told her about her uncle, and she was pissed at him. He frowned. He should have told her about it when he'd had the chance, but no, he'd put it off. Looks like it was backfiring on him now, wasn't it? Gritting his teeth, he turned away. He was three steps away from the door when he heard her. "Going somewhere, Spaceb--" Her voice cut off mid-word as Michael spun around so fast that he almost fell over. "Hey," he said. Maria was staring at him. "What?" he demanded, knowing his tone sounded harsh but not able to change it. "Michael?" "Yeah?" She looked at him long enough for him to become fidgety. Then, a smile slowly spread across her lips. "Spaceboy..." she said finally, "You clean up good." "Uh...it was Isabel," he admitted. "Well, she does really good work." "Uh, so...you ready?" "Just let me get my jacket," she said, and whirled back inside the house. Michael let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. As she reappeared in the doorway, he held up Max's keys. "I got the Jeep, so..." Maria smiled at him, this time almost blinding him with it. "Let's go, then." ***** Maria eyed him, not bothering to hide her interest, as she sat in the Jeep's passenger seat. He didn't return the favor, but his fingers tightened on the steering wheel, she noted. As far as she was concerned, the date could have ended right then and it still would have been the best she'd been on. Michael--stubborn, so-not-the-perfect-boyfriend Michael--had picked her up in an actual car--Jeep--vehicle or whatever, and had worn an obviously new--and pretty darn flattering--outfit. She wasn't surprised that Isabel had had a hand in it, but still, he'd worn it. He'd made the effort. She could feel herself grinning. "What?" Michael demanded, although he kept his attention focused on the road. "I can't believe I was nervous about this," Maria admitted with a laugh. This got his attention. "What, about you and me?" "No, not about us, but about the date itself. The last time we tried it, it didn't work out so well." "Maria..." he began. "No, Michael, it was my fault too. I had all these crazy expectations of what it should be, and I tried to impose them on reality, instead of just enjoying being together. Which is all I'm looking for today," she rushed to assure him. Michael's jaw tightened. "I tried to do what Max would do, and screwed things up. But I'm not Max." "No, you're Michael. And I don't want Max, I want you." His shoulders relaxed. Almost imperceptibly, but not quite; she still saw. "Okay then," he said. "But that's why I was so nervous, I think. I didn't want you to, you know, think I was trying to pressure you into anything." "That's not your M.O., Maria. You don't try to pressure people into stuff. You just jabber at them until they give in, in self-defense." He shot a glance at her, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. "Hey!" she exclaimed, but she felt herself smiling. "So, nervous?" he said, going back to the point. "Not any more. But you should see my room. I've got clothes draped everywhere. I must have tried on fourteen different outfits." Not that Michael had given any sign that he'd noticed what she was wearing. "You should have had Isabel tell you what to wear. It makes things simpler." "And she has excellent taste," Maria said. "You look really nice, Spaceboy." He didn't look at her, but she thought with some amusement that his face reddened. "'Course, you're pretty good-looking anyway, even without the clean clothes." It wasn't really teasing if it was honest, was it? And yep, there was the red again. Michael made a valiant effort to change the subject. "So what are we seeing, anyway?" "Blushing aliens," Maria continued irrepressibly. "Would you cut it out?" Letting out a purposely dramatic sigh, Maria relented. "I don't know why you have a problem with me complimenting my boyfriend, but fine. So, the movie?" "Yeah?" "After careful consideration of what's playing, I decided that what you really need to see most is 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.'" There was silence from the driver's seat. "But since, from what I hear, Isabel has already tried to foist the Christmas spirit off onto you, with no success, we'll be avoiding that one." "Good." "Besides, Jim Carrey or no Jim Carrey, it can't possibly be as good as the original. So you're getting a reprieve." "Good," he repeated. "Even though I could probably be more persuasive than Isabel," she mused. "Plus, you agreed I could choose. So if I really wanted to see the Grinch, we probably would." "Maria-" he began, then took a deep breath. She grinned at him, then pointed out the window. "There's a parking spot," she said before he could get out whatever it was he'd been about to say. "Come on, Spaceboy. I'm in the mood for some popcorn." email me |