A/N: Thanks very much to the-fraulein and Arch of Wand; I always appreciate your reviews. Since I've just broken my record of shortest time between updates, I'd really love some reviews here. Hopefully, I can keep going at this rate. Feedback helps!

"So, Benny, what are you and Alison doing next week for Valentine's Day?"

Benny grinned. "Everything. Dinner, a show, a romantic carriage ride through Central Park. The works. After all, this is our first Valentine's Day together."

Collins shook his head.

"I don't see how we ever manage to pay the rent living with Don Juan over here."

"How long have you and Alison been dating, Benny?" asked Roger. Roger's only pressing engagement for Valentine's Day was a gig with the Well Hungarians. He wasn't lacking in dates, with a variety of girls, but nothing ever came of them. He had a hard time seeing the girls as anything more than groupies, and no one ever takes a groupie seriously. Besides, Roger had the band. He didn't have time for a serious relationship.

"Nearly six months now," Benny answered with pride.

"I can't believe it," commented Mark. "You were such a womanizer in college and when we first moved here. You practically had a different girl each month."

Benny looked offended. "Come on, Cohen, that's a major exaggeration. And I was never a womanizer. I hate womanizers."

"You know, I've never heard of a manizer before," remarked Collins.

Benny gave Collins a look, although Roger thought he could detect a smile behind it.

"I love the women and they love me. It's not my fault. Seriously, Mark, you know I'd never hurt a girl on purpose."

"No, I know," agreed Mark. "But, really, what's so special about Alison Grey?"

"She's different. She's got something I haven't really seen in any girl I've dated before."

"A hell of a lot of money?" Roger suggested jokingly. His smirk dropped, however, when he caught the glare Benny sent in his direction.

"Sophistication," Benny replied cooly before turning his attention to Collins, who was still laughing quietly at Roger's comment. "All right, Mr. Wise Guy, you can stop sniggering; it wasn't that funny. At least I have a date for Valentine's Day."

"So do I," was Collins' calm response.

Benny was not alone in his surprise.

"What?" "Who?" "Since when?" "Why didn't you tell us?"

Collins smirked at his stunned roommates. "His name is Zak, he invited me to dinner, and it isn't anything serious. Not that it's really any of your business, anyway," he teased.

"You are cruel, man," Roger said with a laugh.

"Me? Never! Come on, Roger, it's your turn now. You have a hot date for next week?"

Roger shrugged, feigning apathy. "No, just a 'hot' gig with the band. But I'll bet Mark and Maureen have some interesting plans." He turned to his now-blushing friend expectantly.

"Well," Mark stammered, "I mean, I thought I'd take her somewhere nice for dinner, of course. And I'm working on this sort of photo album for her with pictures I'd taken of her and some of us together, with some shots of other things she likes, things that make me think of her." Mark paused; the room was silent. "So I'll give that to her at dinner and she'll coo over it and then insist that we go clubbing, because she prefers nightclubs to nice restaurants. I, for one, don't particularly like clubbing, but as I am helplessly in love with Maureen, I'll do as she bids without arguing, and that is how our Valentine's Day will proceed."

After a brief silence, Collins cleared his throat. "Well," he began, "I hereby declare that Benny wins the award for higher budget romance whereas Mark wins the medal for the cheaper equivalent."

"That's no good," Mark observed. "Maureen's anything but a cheap date."

"And Collins, you get the 'Surprise!' trophy," Roger added, just before a rhythm was beat by someone knocking at the door.

"I'll get it," announced Mark. He opened the door to reveal the bouncing dark curls and rather tight clothing of Maureen Johnson, who burst through the doorway, beaming, a suitcase in each hand. She planted a kiss on Mark's lips before dropping her suitcases on the floor.

"Surprise, pookie!"

Roger leaned over toward Collins and said under his breath, "Well, buddy, there goes your 'Surprise!' trophy. You can be first runner-up." Collins sniggered and covered it with a laugh; Benny moved to the couch so he could join in the commentary.

"Maureen," Mark began, finally, looking utterly confused, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm moving in with you, silly," she replied, tapping him playfully on the nose.

"Must have been behind on her rent," muttered Benny. Collins and Roger nodded in agreement.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mark!" Maureen threw her arms open as if to suggest that the move-in was her gift to him.

"But, Maureen, Valentine's Day isn't for a week," Mark pointed out feebly.

"I wanted to get a head start," countered Maureen smoothly. When Mark did not run to embrace her and shower her with kisses, her expression darkened slightly and she began to pout her lips.

"Oh, Mark's done for now," remarked Roger.

"He'll give in any second," Benny agreed.

"Aren't you happy to see me, pookie?" Maureen gazed pitifully at Mark, her pretty actress's eyes looking as if they might burst into tears at any moment.

"And he's gone," declared Collins.

Sure enough, Mark ran to take Maureen into his arms, eager to prevent a temper tantrum. "Of course, Maureen; I'm thrilled." He turned to Roger, who currently slept on an air mattress on the floor of Mark's room, with an apologetic look on his face.

"Um, Roger—"

"Don't worry about it," Roger cut him off and shot his friend an easy-going smile. "Sleeping on the couch is fine with me."

"I'm really sorry—"

"Not a problem, Mark. Seriously. Hey, look guys, I've got to go practice with the band. I'll see you later tonight. Welcome to the loft, Maureen."

Roger gave Maureen an awkward welcome hug and walked out, shutting the door on the loft where everything was beginning to return to normal and normal was beginning to include Maureen. Roger did have band practice, but not for another two hours. He just had to get out of the Apartment of Love. With a sigh, he walked into a bar and sat down, wondering out loud how it was that all of his friends had dates and he didn't.

"I don't get it. I'm confident, I'm better-looking—"

"Well, that doesn't say much. You're better-looking than most guys."

This statement caught Roger by complete surprise, and he turned to face the stranger who had voiced this remark. It was a woman, attractive, but not drop-dead gorgeous. She was very tan, with light brown hair, and of average height, if a little on the short side. The only thing really remarkable about her was her smile. Roger couldn't place what made it so special, but something about that smile caught his eye, and held it.

"Who are you?"

"The name's April."

"Hi, April, I'm—"

"Roger Davis, yeah, I know. I've seen your band play a few times."

Roger racked his brain, searching through memories of small crowds of girls swarming him after a gig. He couldn't place April in any of them.

"I don't remember seeing you before."

"You wouldn't. I was never a groupie."

"Ah. More self-respect than that?"

April shrugged. "I wanted you to take me seriously. And no one ever takes a groupie seriously."

"Good point."

The girl looked him in the eye and said, very seriously, "You're really good, you know. Your band. You're going to go far."

"Thanks." Roger was beginning to feel awkward. "I've got to go to practice, actually, but, uh, it was great meeting you."

"Here." April scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to him. "My number."

Roger raised an eyebrow but took the number, although he doubted that he would ever call it. Despite what this girl claimed, she seemed like an over-confident groupie to him. Roger nodded good-bye to April and walked outside, shaking his head as if to try and shake out the image of that mesmerizing smile.