Michael reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. He was about to pour himself a glass when Maria emerged from the bedroom with—shocker—a textbook in her hand. She sat down on the couch, opened the book, and switched the television channel from MTV to CNN before she began to read.

Michael studied her skeptically for a moment, unable to believe what he was seeing. Studious Maria? No way. She was up to something.

He put the milk carton back in the refrigerator and went to join her in the living room. He plopped down beside her on the couch and asked, "What're you doing?"

"Studying," she replied simply. "And watching the news."

"Why?"

She smiled a one-hundred percent fake smile and answered, "'Cause it's fun."

He gave her a knowing look. "Maria."

She sighed in resignation and said, "Well, you can't blame a girl for trying."

"So this is your last ditch effort to convince me you're a good roommate?"

"Kind of," she admitted. "Look, I know I'm not the best person to live with, but I'm not the worst, either. I'm not a pyromaniac. That's gotta count for something."

"Maria . . . I know you need a place to stay," he acknowledged, "but . . . you can't stay here."

"I had a feeling you wouldn't budge," she mumbled dejectedly. "At this time tomorrow, you'll be shoving me out the door. Well, good for you. But before you start doing your happy dance and rejoicing-"

"I don't have a happy dance," he interrupted.

"You should know that it's not that funny. I'm scared. I don't have anywhere to go or anyone to go to." She pouted. "I guess I'll just live in my car."

He pressed his lips together and let out a heavy breath, willing himself to remain steadfast in the face of her persuasion. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

"Yes, is it working?" she replied eagerly.

It was. It definitely was. And he hated that it was. This was his apartment, his and his only. All he wanted was to be left alone.

"Did you go look at apartments?" he asked her.

"A couple, but they smelled like cat pee and grandpa. Plus, I'm not responsible enough to pay rent all by myself. I'm no good at that."

"Then get a job," he suggested.

"I'm no good at that, either."

"Well, you can't . . . you-you can't stay here," he stuttered. "Why don't you just move back in with Tess?"

"No way, Michael. That girl went from being my best friend to my best frienemy. I refuse."

"Well, move in with another friend."

"I don't have any other friends," she told him.

"Sure you do."

"Well, not, like, close friends. I mean, sure, Liz, but she still lives in a dorm. And all the guys I know, besides you . . . they're not roommate material."

God, this girl knows how to work me, he thought, struggling with some inner indecision. "Well, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I want you to let me stay. Just for awhile. I'll be a better roommate, I promise."

He sighed heavily, wondering if he should believe her or not. Honestly . . . he didn't. A tiger couldn't change its stripes. Neither could Maria. She wasn't going to become a completely different person just for the sake of staying in his apartment, and that was a good thing. Maria was who she was, but . . . could he live with her?

"Please?" she begged.

He held his head in his hand, rubbing his forehead out of stress, and cast a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She was giving him the puppy dog look; and damn it all to hell, it was working.

Against his better judgment, he said, "Fine, you can stay here."

"Really?" Her face lit up with excitement.

"Oh, god, what am I saying?"

"Thank you, Michael!"

"But this is still temporary," he reminded her. "You find another place to live, you go live there. You understand?"

"I understand," she said, smiling in appreciation.

"Oh, god, what am I getting myself into?"

She giggled and said, "Thank you, Michael. You're the best." Then she leaned in and pressed a big, thankful kiss to his cheek before slamming her book shut, springing to her feet, and skipping down the hallway into the bedroom, probably to unpack again.

He touched his cheek and smiled a little, hoping he had made the right choice. As much as living with Maria drove him crazy, he couldn't send her out there to struggle on her own. He wasn't that kind of guy.

...

Michael ran into Tess as he was walking out of his Art History class the next day. She stopped and asked him if Maria had moved out. He could tell that she was pretending not to give a damn, but she really did. Instead of standing out in the middle of campus talking to her, he invited her out to lunch since they both had a few hours to kill before their next classes.

Right outside the Student Union was a café infamous for its coffee-flavored ice cream. They went there, opted for smoothies over ice cream, and talked. Michael told Tess that he had decided to let Maria stay with him for awhile longer, and she just sat there looking shell-shocked. He waited for her to speak, but she was the personification of silence.

"Aren't you gonna say something?" he asked her finally.

"I would, if I wasn't speechless."

Great, he thought. That didn't sound good.

"Wow, Michael, you've really gone and done it now," she remarked. "I guess I don't get it. Yesterday, you were giving her the old heave-ho. Now you're laying out the welcome mat. What changed your mind?"

He sighed and reluctantly admitted, "She did."

Tess gave him a knowing look. "Hmm, she's very conniving like that."

"She said she was gonna live in her car."

"She's a liar," Tess's responded quickly. "And you know it. Think of all the people she's slept with. Maria uses guys like Kleenex. Once they've served their purpose, she throws 'em away and reaches for the next one. It's all very cyclical."

"So you think I'm just another guy in the cycle?"

"I didn't say that," Tess was quick to assure him. "Things are different with you. You guys aren't dating. And please don't ever start, because you'll end up in the mental ward."

"I'll remember that."

"But she's still using you, Michael. She likes your apartment; she wants to stay there. So—surprise, surprise—she makes you feel sorry for her and you agree to it."

"Indefinitely," he emphasized. "I told her she could stay indefinitely."

"Oh, come on, Michael, you and I both know Maria chops the prefix off that word. Indefinitely, to her, means the same as definitely. Like for all time. Say goodbye to life as a bachelor. You just shot yourself in the foot. And just for kicks, you shot yourself in the other foot, too. And once she throws her first Apartment 521 kegger, you're gonna feel tempted to shoot yourself in the head; but please refrain. Blood's a bitch, and you've got white carpet." She smiled.

He was pretty sure even a casual observer would notice the terror etched onto his face if they walked by and cast him a glance. "Well, this has been nice and encouraging," he mumbled sarcastically.

"Hmm." She just shrugged and slurped down the rest of her smoothie.

Michael was about to ask Tess whether or not he should exile Maria from the bedroom and force her to sleep on the couch when one of the most arrogant people he had ever met sauntered up to the table.

"Michael, Michael, Michael," Max said, resting his hand on the back of Tess's chair. "I know my sister left you heartbroken, but lunching it with my girl? She's outta your league."

"Hello to you, too, Max," Michael mumbled, forcing himself to be civil. He didn't hate Max the way Maria did, but he definitely didn't like the guy, either.

"Hi, honey," Tess greeted her boyfriend. She puckered up her lips for a split-second as though she were expecting a kiss, but Max didn't give her one. So she skipped straight to asking, "How was your day?"

"Monotonous," he replied. "And it won't get any better anytime soon. I've got a meeting with my dad this afternoon."

"Gee, Max. The guy's not even dead yet and you're already taking over his company."

Max shrugged unabashedly. "It is what it is." He turned to Michael then and asked, "So, Guerin, you hear from Isabel lately?"

"Have you?" Michael asked in return, deliberately not answering.

"No," Max admitted. "All I can figure is that she's too busy to call because she's off at some expensive beach resort having sex with someone who's not you."

"Max!" Tess cut in sharply. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"The Union. I have to buy my cousin a birthday present."

"Sounds good." Max smiled at Michael and said, "See you later, man."

Michael didn't say anything. That guy really knew how to piss someone off. People could say all they wanted to about him, but the fact of the matter was that Max Evans was highly intelligent, knew just what buttons to push and when to push them.

"I'm sorry," Tess whispered as she grabbed her purse and stood up from the table. She laid a ten dollar bill down to cover her portion of the expense and said, "Good luck with the Maria situation. Thanks for lunch."

He waved goodbye to her and reluctantly watched her head towards the Union with Max. He knew now that the Evans siblings were very much alike, and if Tess wasn't careful, she was gonna be abandoned.

...

Max couldn't help but smile at the slight mental torture he had just inflicted upon Michael by simply mentioning Isabel's name. It wasn't that he had anything against Michael, specifically. He just enjoyed making people's lives difficult, which was part of the reason why he would someday be the next Donald Trump. Of that much, he was certain.

"God, Max, you're such an ass sometimes," Tess mumbled angrily. "Why would you taunt him like that?"

"Relax, I was just having a little fun."

"No one else was."

He stopped right on the steps of the Union, turned to face her, and took his hands in hers, attempting to project sincerity when he said, "You know what? You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."

She seemed hesitant to believe him, but, as usual, she came around to it. "Just be nicer to him next time."

"I will." Different day, same promise. The kind he never kept. "Come on." He led her towards the entrance doors of the Student Union.

"What do you think I should get my cousin, a university sweatshirt or a lamp?"

He might have actually taken the time to answer the unimportant question had he not pulled open the door to the Union just as Liz was walking out. Their eyes locked, and even though she looked as though she were going in slow motion, she wasn't. She brushed right past him at normal speed, but he couldn't help fixating on her. Maybe it was the thrill of having her before but not having her right now . . . he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he wanted her back, wanted to bend her over the counter and put it to her good, because she'd really enjoyed that last time.

"Max."

Tess's voice broke through his reverie, and he disliked it.

"Are you even listening to me?" she asked impatiently.

He shrugged and smiled. "More or less."

...

Maria burst into hysterical laughter as her brother Marty told her a story about a party he had been to last night. She almost rolled off the couch—she was laughing that hard—but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back upright.

"Whoa, cowgirl!"

She laughed again, the snorting kind of laughter you could only do in the company of siblings.

"Don't you wanna hear the rest?"

"Oh my god, yes," she replied eagerly. "Tell me the rest."

"Okay," Marty said in his usual feminine tone. "So I told the girl, 'Honey, I appreciate the offer, but you're gonna have to take your fashionista self off the field, 'cause I'm up to bat and I'm not hittin' straight. I'm hittin' a curve ball, you know what I mean?' And it was a home run, baby!"

Maria howled in laughter. "So what'd she do?"

"She left like I told her to. But here's the delicious part: At the end of the night, I hooked up with her boyfriend."

"Ah!" Maria half-screamed, half-laughed. "Marty!"

"If he wasn't gay before, he is now, little girl."

"Oh my god, scandalous!" she exclaimed, loving her brother's tales of sexual exploits.

"I know, I know."

"Was he good?"

"Oh, sweetie, it was the best sex of my life," Marty told her in all seriousness. "That boy rode me like the midnight train to Georgia!"

She collapsed into a fit of laughter yet again, and he joined her this time. They held onto each other's hands, both wheezing and gasping for air, and they only calmed down when the door opened and Michael walked in.

"Oh, hey, roomie," Maria greeted, struggling to catch her breath.

"Hey," he returned. "Hey, Marty. Haven't seen you for awhile."

"And that's just a damn shame," Marty said, "because you, sir, just get foxier and foxier every day. Am I right?" He turned to Maria.

"Pretty foxy," she agreed, smiling at her friend.

"You got kind of a bedhead look goin' on. Very 90's. Very post-modern grunge," Marty remarked. "I like it. It works for you. Your clothes on the other hand . . ." He turned to Maria and said, "Well, it's nothing a shopping spree can't fix."

"Shopping can fix everything," she agreed. "We all have to go soon."

"Fabulous!" Marty exclaimed in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah, I can't wait for that," Michael muttered less enthusiastically. He tossed his backpack down next to the couch and headed down the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Maria asked him.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he replied.

"Oh!" Marty cried out and bit down on his fist in order to silence himself at the thought of naked Michael covered in water. Maria laughed at him, and Michael promptly added, "Alone."

Maria laughed some more, and once Michael shut the door to the bathroom, Marty took his fist out of his mouth and said, "Now that is a perfect specimen of a man. The dirty little things I would do for five seconds with that guy."

"Sorry, Marty," she said sympathetically. "Michael definitely goes for the feminine persuasion."

"And I can be very feminine."

"Except for your genitalia."

He frowned and groaned in disappointment. "Oh, it's not fair."

"It never is," she agreed.

"I'm serious. Straight people get guys like Michael. Who do we adorable homos get? Oh, Clay Aiken. Watch me swoon."

"Poor baby." She pouted, then inquired, "So if Michael was gay, would you be all over him?"

"Girl, are you kidding? If that boy had one gay bone in his body, I'd be on him like stank on a hog. Bark on a tree. Britney on Madonna. You couldn't pry me away. I hate him for being heterosexual, I swear. And I hate you for living with him."

"You hate me?"

"I'm so jealous," he admitted. "But really, Maria, if I can't have him, you might as well."

She made a face at the idea. "No, stop."

"What? You're telling me you've never thought about it?"

"Thought about what?"

"Honey, you've known this guy for . . . how long now?"

"A little over two years."

"Right. And in all that time, you never once imagined what it would be like to have a roll in the hay with him?"

She thought about it and blushed as she confessed, "Well . . . maybe a couple times."

"See?"

"But that's not some huge revelation. I think about that with every guy I see."

"But you're in a great position right now, living here with that sizzling piece of man meat. If I were you, I'd get in an even better position: flat on your back with your legs in the air!"

"Marty, you are such a perv!" she teased.

"I bet he's huge," Marty went on to speculate. "Is he huge?"

"What? I don't know."

Marty gasped in astonishment. "You mean you've never seen it?"

"Not Michael's."

"Well, that's just wrong. Honey, we have to find out. Now's our chance. Come on!" He sprang to his feet, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up off the couch and down the hallway.

They crouched down on the floor outside the bathroom door, and Maria covered her mouth with one hand to keep from giggling. Poor Michael. He wasn't going to be happy about this invasion of privacy, but there were just certain things you had to sacrifice when you had a roommate who had a horny, gay brother.

They gently pushed open the door to the bathroom, only a few inches. Maria peered inside, and Marty poked his head beneath hers, peeking through the curtains of her hair. They watched in silence as Michael checked himself out in the mirror, knocked over Maria's wide array of lip gloss on accident, set it all back up again, and then began to undress. First his shoes and socks, then his shirt. Then his belt, then his jeans . . . Maria could tell the unintended strip tease was driving Marty crazy. And to be quite honest, she could see why. Michael looked pretty damn good in nothing but his skivvies.

When he pushed his boxers down to pool at his feet and stepped out of them, Marty lost it. "Mamazita!" he exclaimed, throwing open the door. He and Maria both fell forward into the bathroom, and Michael hollered and grabbed a towel to wrap around himself.

"Ah!"

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord!" Marty yelled. "I knew it! I knew it was huge!"

Maria rolled around on the bathroom floor and laughed. Being a Peeping Tom was so fun.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" Michael demanded, still trying to secure the towel around his waist.

"You, in my dreams," Marty answered unabashedly.

"Oh, god," Michael mumbled, holding his head in his hands. "Why me?"

"Because . . . you're gorgeous," Marty replied, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees and then onto his feet. "I know this. Maria knows this. You know this."

"You're gorgeous, Michael," Maria echoed, still lying on the floor.

"Thanks," he muttered. "Do you guys think you could . . . leave?"

"If you want me to, I'll stay," Marty volunteered.

"No, I want you to leave."

"Are you sure? Soaps and suds, no sexual duds."

"Marty," Maria said, raising herself back up to her feet before Michael could say anything in response to that little rhyme. "What does that even mean?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "but it sounds hot."

"It does!" she agreed.

"Guys," Michael cut in emphatically. "Leave."

Marty pouted at Maria and said, "He's kicking us out."

"He's no fun," Maria agreed. "Oh, well. Come on, Marty. I'll cook Hot Pockets for dinner."

"Actually," Marty said, holding up his watch, "I've got a date at eight and I can't be late."

"It's 4:30," Michael pointed out.

"I know," Marty acknowledged, "but I have to find something to wear."

Michael just stared at him and shook his head.

Maria giggled and playfully hit her brother on the shoulder. "Alright, well, thanks for stopping by today."

"And violating me with your eyes," Michael added.

"We'll shop soon," Marty reminded her. "Hugs, everybody. Hugs and kisses."

"I'm not hugging or kissing anyone in this room," Michael said adamantly.

Maria hugged her brother and whispered, "Get laid tonight."

"You, too, girly." She could practically hear him grinning before he pulled away. "Alright, well, it's been fun," he said. "Farewell, sister. And Big Boy . . . TTFN." He waved goodbye and practically skipped out of the bathroom.

Maria turned to look at Michael. He didn't look amused. "What? It's better than little boy," she pointed out.

"What's TTFN?" he asked.

She was amazed that he didn't already know. "Ta-ta for now. God, Michael, haven't you ever watched Winnie the Pooh?"

"Uh, yeah, when I was in playgroup."

"Well, one of these days, we're just gonna rent every Pooh movie and watch them all," she decided. "And you'll enjoy yourself."

"Why-why am I gonna enjoy myself?"

She smiled confidently. "Because I said so."