Michelangelo Vargas smiled over at his girlfriend Amelie Bonnefoy. "There are so many things to choose from to do today," he said to her. "The day is young and there are endless possibilities! Let's take advantage of all of it!"

"You sure think very optimistically, don't you?" Amelie said, smiling kindly at him. "Though it is supposed to be hot today, I think we could do many things if we do them early enough."

"You think so?" Michelangelo asked, smirking at her. "You see, I am not lazy like my cousins, Feliciano and Lovino. I can walk or wander all day if that is what you wish to do. I can do anything you wish to do, for today is in your hands."

Amelie blushed. She had never held such power in her hands. None of her previous boyfriends had ever let her decide what to do on a date. "No man has ever asked my opinion like this before," she admitted, looking down at her shoes. Her mind wandered back to her first encounter with Michelangelo to when he had asked her out.

.

Six Months Previous

Amelie was walking down the high school hallway, minding her own business, as one usually does, when a boy with beautiful auburn hair strolled past her. She was so distracted that she ran into another boy with dark hair and dropped her books. Blushing furiously, she scrambled to pick them up while the boy she had ran into walked on, muttering under his breath about how she should watch where she was going and how her glasses didn't help her see well enough.

The boy with the auburn hair quickly ran over to her and helped her pick up her books. "Pardon me, but you have the most beautiful golden hair I have ever seen," he complimented, examining her closely. His eyes were a bright green, reminding Amelie of grass at the beginning of spring.

"T-Thank you," Amelie stammered, face as red as a maraschino cherry. She stood to her full height and bowed her head so he couldn't see her blush too well. "Your hair is quite magnificent as well, if I do say so myself," she softly said. "It's a very vibrant color."

"Thanks," he easily said, grinning. "It's natural! I'm Michelangelo, but you can call me Mike if you'd like! What's your name?"

"Amelie," she quietly said, before looking up at him. "My name is Amelie Bonnefoy," she repeated a little louder and with more confidence.

"Bonnefoy, you say?" Michelangelo asked, smiling wider. "Would you happen to be related to Francis, by any chance?"

"He is my older brother and guardian," Amelie answered, nodding her head. "What of it?"

"Francis is friends with my cousins, Feliciano and Lovino Vargas," Michelangelo said, leaning against the lockers next to her. He began to pick at the peeling paint on one of them. "I knew your hair color looked familiar. You two have the same shade of gold in your hair, no?"

Amelie blushed more. "Yes, we do," she softly said. "That's what happens when you're related to someone. You share genetics with them. I should've guessed that you were related to Feliciano and Lovino." No one else could pull off being so charming so easily if not from that bloodline, she continued in her head.

"And how, may I ask, is that?" Michelangelo asked her, laughter in his eyes.

"You look like them," Amelie answered. "Well, you look more like Feliciano than Lovino, but you get what I'm saying, right?"

"Of course," he said, laughing. He reached out and grabbed one of her hands, almost causing her to drop her books again. His lips grazed the back of his before letting go of it once more. "I'm afraid I must get to class now. It was wonderful talking to you, Miss Bonnefoy. I hope we can speak again soon."

"Of course, Mike," she softly said.

He winked at her and then disappeared off down the hallway.

.

Four Months Later

"Amelie," Michelangelo said as he sat in her living room on night. They were working on a partnered English assignment, and he wasn't really feeling it. There was something else on his mind. "I have something I want to talk to you about."

"What is it?" she asked, looking over at him, though she kept glancing over at her fingers as they typed away on the keyboard of her laptop. She was still trying to get a good grade, whether he cared or not about the assignment.

"When you see me, what do you think?" he asked. "What is the first thing that comes to mind?"

"Mike," she simply answered. "That's the first thing that comes to my mind. I think, 'There's my best friend Mike.' Is that a good enough answer for you?"

Michelangelo sighed and leaned back against the upholstered back of the couch. "I guess," he said. He couldn't stop watching her work. She was like a learning machine while he felt so helpless, helplessly in love with her.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I'm here to listen if you want to talk."

"Let's treat it like a discussion," he suggested. "How do you feel about that?"

Amelie shrugged. "I guess we can."

He took a deep breath. "Amelie, I'm going to have to ask you to put down your laptop for this. It's very important to me, whether or not it's important to you."

She looked up and gave him a curious look, but she slowly set the laptop down on the coffee table. "What's this about, Mike? I don't understand what you're trying to do."

"Close your eyes for a moment," he instructed. "Go on, just do it." He smiled when he saw her eyes flutter shut. After taking a deep breath, he leaned in and softly brushed his lips across hers. "Well, what do you think?"

"What was that?" she asked, eyes snapping open. "What did you do? I felt something!" Her hand flew up to her lips as her fingers gently touched them.

"I kissed you," he softly said. "What did you think?"

"You kissed me?" she asked, looking over at him in confusion. "You kissed me without my permission?!" Her cheeks were bright red. "You do realize what this means, right?"

"What?" he asked, almost scared of the look on her face.

"I'm going to have to get my revenge," she told him, voice blank and emotionless, just like the expression that was currently on her face.

Michelangelo shrank back against the couch. "And how will you do that?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice even.

"Like this," she stated before jumping at him and kissing him back, full on the lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moved to sit on his lap as she did so, gasping out slightly when his arms circled around her waist and pulled her closer.

Michelangelo couldn't believe it. He was really kissing the girl of his dreams. His eyes had only been on Amelie since the day he had met her, and now he was kissing her the way a boy kisses his girlfriend. What were they? Would she date him if he asked? There was only one way to find out.

Amelie's cheeks were flushed when they broke apart for air. "Wow," she breathed.

"You're incredible," he stated, dumbfounded. He quickly found his words as he said, "There's something I want to ask you, Amelie."

"What is it?" she asked, eyes widening behind her wire-rimmed glasses.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, smiling sheepishly. "I know I kinda suck at pretty much everything, but-"

"Yes," she answered before kissing his lips. "Yes. I will."

"You will?" he asked, surprised. Then he smiled widely. "Then it's settled. You're my girlfriend now. And you're perfect for me. I'll try my best to be as perfect for you as I can."

.

Present Day

And perfect for her, he really was. Amelie had never felt a stronger connection with anyone else she had ever dated. She really felt as if Michelangelo were the one. Her heart always felt warm and fuzzy whenever she was around him. It made her wonder if she was in love or not. She wondered if she should tell him.

Michelangelo looked over at her, grinning from ear to ear, a smile plastered to his face. His eyes held a look of adoration that was reserved only for her as he asked, "Well, what do you want to do?"