A/N:

TEN DAYS. Ten FREAKING DAYS. I can't believe it.

So, as I promised, Mia's POV.

UGH. English tests SUCK.


Mia's POV:

My journal, my journal, I thought frantically. Where did I leave my journal?

Then it came to me. Michael's place. I tried to remember all the details.

I tried to get the picture frame and placed my journal on the table when Michael and Ialmost kissed. I swear our lips were so near, I could almosttaste him.

Oh my god, I am so dead. What if he reads it? What if he reads everything. The truth. About JP, about Lilly, about the breakup. About him. I could almost see him, his eyebrows knitting together as my reality unfolds infront of him.

I ran--in my heels --toward his apartment. Please, don't let him read a single word. Please, please, PLEASE!!

The elevator couldn't go fast enough. People were staring at me as if I've gone totally nuts. Maybe I am.

I opened the door to his room. "Did you see my journal?" I asked to no one in particular, then my eyes focused on Michael, my journal on his hands. "Michael? Did you read anything? Omigod. Omigod. Did you? Give it back!!"

He looked absolutely startled, like a little boy caught eating his paste. "Erm, here." He handed it to me. "I d-didn't read anything."

I sighed a breath of relief. "Thanks." My hand was on the doorknob when he said: "Mia?"

Is he gonna ask me on a date? IS HE?!

"Are you free on Thursday or something," he asked, running his hand through his long hair. It'd grown since the last time I'd ran my hand through it. Well, by a centimeter or two? "I mean, we could hang."

Hang. My heartbeat went so fast, my hands were clammy, and I bet my cheeks were soooo red right now. I looked away, tried to look casual and said, "Sure." Then I was out.

When I was out of the building -- I couldn't help it-- I squealed. Yeah, squealed, like a teenage girl who got her first Seventeen magazine. Like a girl who had her first kiss. Like a girl who was aked out by her still-loved ex to hang.

"I got a date, I got a date," I sang quietly. I got a date, I got a date. I got a date, I got a date.

I wasn't exactly looking where I was going and I bumped into this guy. Part of his latte was on my sweater.

"I'm sorry..." And with that... I ran.


I know it's short but I bet tomorrow I could add a Michael's POV.

~Nessie/Patricia