Disclaimer: I don't know why I have to say that I don't own The Princess Diaries because you probably should know that, but just to clear everything up, I DON'T OWN IT. There you go.

Oh, and people may be out of character, but I can't write like Meg Cabot. If I could, you would be paying $7.95 to buy my book at Barnes and Nobles.

---Mia's POV---

I sighed, and shoved the headphones into my ears. They weren't very good—well, actually, they sucked. They were the little crappy ones they give you on airplanes, which was where I happened to be right now. On a plane, I mean. On our way to ARUBA. I was so excited I turned my music up LOUD. And I think I may or may not have at some point started singing, and not in my head, either. One businessman glared at me, obviously upset that I had interrupted his call to some equally boring and lifeless business partner. A little kid was attempting to stifle a laugh, his eyes wide as cantaloupes. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. My stomach suddenly growled, making an enormous noise. The little brat suddenly burst out in high laughter. He sounded like he was in labor, all "Hee hee hoo, hee hee hoo." which is how they make pregnant women breathe. I think. I saw something like that on Friends, once. I realized that I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before, and was starving. I pulled a chocolate pudding cup out of my carry-on bag. I hadn't eaten pudding in almost six years. It reminded me too much of Michael, the ex-boyfriend; the guy who I thought I loved. We had silly little arguments over what they were called. He said it was pudding, not pudding cups.

"You don't EAT the cup, it's just in it!" he would always say.

"But what about ice cream cones? You put the ice cream in a cone, but you still call it an ice cream cone."

"That's different. You eat the cone. But if you put the ice cream in a bowl, which you don't eat, you don't call it an ice cream bowl."

"I do" I would reply stubbornly, and he always smiled at me.

"And that's why I love you."

But now I was ready to forget Michael and his stupid pudding. Although I wasn't doing a very good job of it, seeing as I was listening to his band's—Skinner Box's—CD. Whatever. Their music was decent. I just despised the lead singer. But as the pilot asked for all standing passengers to find a seat, I couldn't help thinking about him. What did he look like? What was life like for him? We broke up six years ago, and I had actually dated guys since him, but none of them added up to Michael. Believe it or not, being the princess of a small country called Genovia does not make it any easier to get dates—well, ones that genuinely like you for you. My headphones were starting to hurt badly. I ripped the devious little black things out of my ears, wincing. Damn, I thought, rubbing my left ear, and leaning against the window.

"Hey" the empty seat next to me said. Wait a second. The chair said wha—oh. I turned from the window and saw a gorgeous guy sitting next to me. Oh my god, he really was good-looking. He had bright green eyes and dark brown hair, and lightly tanned skin. Then I realized I was staring at him just a little. Or a lot. My jaw practically fell on his lap. He smiled.

"Um, hi" I finally said.

"I'm M--" he started to say, but was interrupted by a beautiful stewardess. I turned away and snorted. Why did I ever get my hopes up? This was life for me. Hot guy, meet Mia. But don't worry about her, she's no one special. Now, hot guy; meet an equally attractive woman. Walk away with equally attractive woman, and be sure to make out where Mia can see you.

"Can I get you anything?" the stewardess asked, running a finger up Mr. Hottie's arm, and winking a little. Mr. Hottie looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Um, no, really, I'm good."

The stewardess frowned, and turned to me, her eyes glazing over with boredom. "And you?" I shook my head.

"So, um, I'm Michael" the hottie said, his green eyes focused intently on my face. I froze. It couldn't be. This wasn't him. It was all just a horrible coincidence. I couldn't speak. I opened my mouth though. I couldn't just keep staring at him.

"I'm…Mi—Mia" I finally choked out the words. His mouth opened; a little gasp escaped. But he recovered, and attempted small talk.

"I...I like that name. So what are you listening to?" I had taken the headphones out, but my Walkman was still in my hands. I blushed. I was actually listening to a CD by Skinner Box, Michael's old band. Even though I knew the universe wouldn't be cruel enough to seat me next to my ex-boyfriend, so there was no way of him finding out I still listened to his old songs, I was embarrassed just the same.

"Oh, they're just…you don't know them" I stuttered.

"Maybe I do" He smiled; my heart flipped over. "Let me listen." Silently, I handed him the Walkman.

---Michael's POV---

From the first few chords in the songs, I knew exactly who the band was. And I knew exactly who she was, the beautiful girl sitting next to me. When I first got on the plane, I was pissed off. I had just broken up with my girlfriend—actually she broke up with me. She wasn't the greatest, but it still hurt. I saw my seat, then I saw the girl next to me. She was tall and slim. She had fair skin, and bright green eyes, and was wearing jeans, a long flowery tank top, and a jean jacket. Her hair was blonde with some brown-ish streaks. She was amazing.

After I heard the song, I knew it was Mia, the Mia I fell in love with six years ago.

She was also different from the Mia I used to know; the one I had fallen in love with. That Mia had little self-confidence, and although she was beautiful in my eyes, she was an awkward high schooler. But I could see that she was still the same funny, creative, caring girl. She was hot.

I leaned in towards her. "You were wrong. I know exactly who these guys are." She looked alarmed. "I knew the lead singer. He was so hott wasn't he?" I continued. She laughed, and my heart warmed. "No, he wasn't. I remember how he had an eyelid that drooped, and greasy hair. And--" She leaned in closer. We were almost touching now. "He had a weird habit of chewing his toenails. He was digusting." I started to protest in mock horror.

"How could you! I'll have you know that he was constantly being followed by hordes of adoring fans. And he was just named Hottest Bachelor of the Year." I sputtered. She cocked her head to the sides. God, she was so cute.

"Hottest Bachelor? Wait—he's still a bachelor?" she said. I swallowed.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"And why is that?"

"I'm not sure. He said something about a girl he used to know. How he broke up with her, and regretted it for the rest of his life." She turned away from me. I saw a tear start to form in her eye. Damn it, I had just seen her for the first time in so long, and I brought that up right away. What an idiot I was.

"Look, I know who you are. And I'm guessing you know exactly who I am. And I haven't seen you in six years. Six years, Mia. And all I want right now is to talk to you."

"Talk away."

"Mia, I--I never WANTED to break up with you. In fact, it was the last thing I wanted." She stared at me, disbelieving.

"Then why did you let me leave?"

"Well, I thought… I thought you just needed some time to cool off. How was I supposed to know you would jet off to dinky little Genovia after that?"

"Excuse me, but incase you forgot, I'm kinda the princess of that dinky little country, and I had stuff I needed to do. So I wasn't going to wait for you after you broke up with me!"

"I did not break up with you!" At this point, we were getting louder and louder. People were starting to stare. One old woman in the corner was beaming at us, a delirious smile on her wrinkled face.

"Oh yah? Well what does "Mia, I think I need some space" mean to you?"

"Well, if you had let me explain you would have realized that I was just switching COLLEGES so I could have more space in a different city. The campus was too small. I had six roommates in a two-room dorm! I just needed more help, so I was coming to you for advice! But you had to go and assume that I was breaking up with you. You were screaming at me Mia! I didn't know what to do. You were flipping out."

"I was not 'flipping out'. I was upset."

"Oh god Mia, just shut up and kiss me."

---Mia's POV---

No. He did not just ask me to kiss him. In front of everyone. While we were in the middle of screaming at eachother. I just stared at him, breathing heavily. Now, don't get me wrong, almost every single part of me wanted to obey him, to run and throw myself at him. But a small part of me was saying, "He broke your heart. He left you." So I gathered the little bit of pride I had left, turned on my heel, and walked away.

"Excuse me?" I said to the stewardess, the one who had been flirting with Michael. Michael. Oh sh—

"Yes?"

"Would it be alright if I, you know, switched seats?"

"If you can find one." She smirked at me. I went back to my seat, and grabbed my bags in a huff.

"Mia! Mia please, I'm sorry, I know, I'm a jerk." Michael was pleading with me; his eyes were wide with desperation, and maybe a little longing. I put my finger to his mouth, stopping his ramble of words. Hey…his lips were soft, just like I remembered. He grabbed my hand, massaging it, and lightly pressed his lips to my finger. I pulled away.

"Michael, no. I'm sorry it didn't work out. I really wish it would have, but I can't try right now. You broke my heart." And with that, I walked away.