"So, Macy, how's life?" Nick asked Macy for the fifth time, who was leaning over the ledge of the empty school tennis court.

"It's fine," Macy sighed, not realizing who she was talking to. Nick was staring at how her short tennis skirt rode up on her thighs in—he blinked and forced himself to glance up at her eyes.

"Macy," Nick repeated. "It's me, Nick,"

Macy turned sharply and gasped, nearly falling of the ledge. Nick grabbed her hips.

"Macy, don't DO that," Nick cried, his hands still on her hips. His eyes followed his hands and soon, he was staring at the curve of her waist. God, she had all the curves in all the right—Nick moved his hands and soon, his eyes. Macy giggled. She had been watching him ogle her the whole time.

"Now, that is just ridiculous," Macy laughed. "You're so loveless you resort to ogling me?"

"Wow," he blushed. "You saw that?"

"It was impossible not to see it," Macy stopped giggling and started blushing, realizing the seriousness of the situation. "You were—"

"I was NOT undressing you with my eyes!" Nick cried defensively, sure that was what she was going to say.

Macy gave a small smirk. And then it turned in to a really big smile. And then it turned into an uncontrollable giggling fit. Nick couldn't help but smile seeing the teenage girl curled into a ball in the middle of an empty tennis court, giggling out of her mind.

"Macy, are you okay?" Nick said, letting out a snort of laughter at her antics. Then his face fell. Oh. My. God. Since when did Macy Misa have breasts? They were so perfect and little and--Nick tried to focus on her face instead of her…her…body.

"Sorry," Macy gasped through her giggling fit. "You just said—"

Her sentence was interrupted as her giggles faded away. "Sorry, Nick. When I find something's funny, I laugh…a lot."

Nick smiled slightly. "I've noticed."

Macy awkwardly sighed. "Yeah…"

"Listen, Macy," Nick said. "I know you're good at graphic design and you know, designing sets and stages on the computer…"

"Yeah," Macy asked, her eyes widening.

"And I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to design the stage for the JONAS tour this summer,"

"Oh, my gosh! I would love that," Macy said.

"Great," Nick's smile was now a full blown grin. "I guess I can just call you and we'll meet with the people from the record company, and stuff."

"Wow," Macy breathed. "That would be so amazing. Do you, um, do you have my number?"

"Um, no," Nick grabbed a marker from his backpack. "You can just—"

"Right," Macy nodded. Realizing she was still sitting on the floor of the clay court, she stood up and brushed herself off. "5, 5, 5. 8, 1, 4. 3, 2, 6, 8."

"Thanks," Nick put the marker back into his backpack and furrowed his brows slightly at Macy, deciding what to do. "Would—Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? At my place?"

"Dinner? Tonight?" Macy blushed. "Sure, I would love to."

"I'll pick you up at 7, okay?" Nick smiled. Macy shook her head.

"I'll walk to your house," Macy put her finger to Nick's lips when he started to protest. "I insist. It's only about two blocks, right?"

"Right." Nick nodded and waved as he walked off. "Tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Macy giggled. Nick smiled, not sure why she was giggling, and closed the door on his way out.

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Macy paced the room in a towel, wet from her shower, her phone plastered to her ear. "Stella, I have nothing to wear! I'm going over to dinner at the Lucas house, and—"

"Whoa, what?" Stella asked. "You know what, never mind, I'll dig it out of you later. Um, is it casual or dressy?"

"I dunno, THAT'S THE PROBLEM!" Macy cried.

"Did you ask?" Stella's voice crackled over the phone. Macy blinked.

"Um, was I supposed to?"

"MACY! Ugh, whatever. Okay, um, it's a Friday, so I'm guessing casual. Do you have a skirt?"

"Stella…"Macy whined.

"C'mon, Macy," Stella sounded like a school teacher. "Do you have one?"

"Yes," Macy grumbled.

"Describe it." Stella demanded.

"It's white and it's, I guess, pleated, and it's, oh my God, Stella, no! This skirt is way too short!"

"Shut up, Macy." Stella said. "You wear those cute little tennis kick skirts and you're complaining about a white, pleated, probably only just above the knee, skirt?"

"Yeah," was Macy's simple answer.

"Just put the skirt on!" Stella cried. "Okay?"

"Okay," Macy whimpered, placing the skirt on her bed.

"Did you wash your hair when you showered?" Stella checked.

"Ew, Stella, of course I did!" Macy cried.

"Alright, alright, just checking. Now, how about a shirt?"

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"How do I look?" Joe asked, running a comb through his dark hair.

"You look fine, Joe." Nick said, tugging on his shirt for the last time. "It's me. I hate my outfit."

Kevin gasped. "Nick! It's from the StellaVator!" Kevin glanced around. "Patent pending,"

"I know, I just don't think I made the right choice. Did I not push the right buttons?" Nick asked his reflection.

"Um, no." Kevin said, walking over to Nick. "I don't think that's the issue here."

"What do you mean?" Nick shook his head, trying to ignore his brother.

"You like her. Like, like-like her." Joe said. Nick rolled his eyes for believability.

"What?" He asked. "No. This dinner is strictly business."

"Is that why you pushed 'Dinner Date' on the StellaVator?" Joe asked. "Patent pending?"

"You guys really have to stop that 'patent pending' thing," Nick said, trying to change the subject.

"Stop trying to change the subject," Kevin cried. "We know you like Macy."

"So, dude," Joe shrugged. "Why don't you ask her out?"

Kevin tugged off his trendy silk scarf and replaced it with a silk scarf covered in duckies. Joe blinked and looked at Nick again.

"Okay, so, if I did like-like her, which I DON'T, how would I go about it?" Nick said. "She nearly flat lines us whenever we come near her."

"Well, first of all, we know you do like-like her," Joe said. "So, just ask her after dinner when she's washing her hands or something,"

"What?" Nick said slowly. "What are you—oh, my God, you're a FREAK, Joe."

"Ugh. You know what I mean," Joe replied, flopping onto the couch.

"Nick! Joe! Kevin! Macy's here,"

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"Macy, you look," Nick breathed. "You look—"

"Like a girl!" Joe cried. Nick elbowed him in the ribs and he winced in pain.

Macy blushed. Well, only because Stella made her over. Even though she was complaining, she wore the white skirt and tank top. And heels. Stella had to actually COME OVER and shove Macy's feet into them.

"Sorry, I didn't know what to wear, and you all look so casual, and--does that scarf have duckies on it, Kevin?—wow, you guys look great and…I didn't know what to wear."

"It's perfectly okay, Macy. Come on in." Mrs. Lucas laughed at Macy's nervousness. "You look beautiful. And you've always looked like a girl. " She gave Joe a special glare while she led Macy inside the house.

"Hi, Macy," Frankie waved from his pizza box fort. "You look pretty."

Macy blushed again. "Wow, thanks, Frankie."

"My pleasure," Frankie replied. Nick fidgeted. His 9 year old brother was smoother than he was.

"Alright, while the chicken's in the oven," Mrs. Lucas said. "Me and Mr. Lucas AND Frankie—" she paused to look sternly at the pizza fort—"—will leave you guys alone and head upstairs,"

After they left, Kevin turned to Nick and elbowed him.
"Me and Joe are going to WASH OUR HANDS," Kevin winked at Joe, causing Joe to shudder.

"But I don't need to—"

Kevin made a face, then suddenly farted while sitting on Joe's hand.

"OH, KEVIN, THAT IS JUST—EW!" Joe shuffled away, Kevin behind him. Nick turned to Macy knew that he had to say what he was longing to say since they met.