A/N: Okay, I'm SO SORRY for taking so long with this. Really. I can't keep complaining about the authors who make us wait forever for new chapters to their fics when I can't update new chapters myself. All I can say in my defense was that I had a major case of writer's block. Anyway, to the reviewer who said that the second chapter's POVS were OOC, I re-read them, and yes, you're right. Someday I might rewrite them, but right now, I've decided not to do anyone's POV in this chapter and write from a third-person point of view. So, if you're still reading after that little spell of rambling, enjoy the final chapter of Mia Thermopolis: Two-Timing Girlfriend.

Tuesday, November, 17th

Mia smiled hesitantly as Michael and Lilly got into the limo.

"Hey," she said to Michael.

Michael grinned back. "Hey."

Lilly groaned. "Are you two going to be making ga-ga eyes all the time now? Tell me in advance so I can figure out where to hurl."

Michael rolled his eyes and Mia giggled. Then Mia frowned and bit her lip.

"What's wrong?" Michael asked.

Mia sighed. "Kenny."

"Oh, yeah," Michael sighed as well. "How do you think he's going to react?"

Lilly raised her eyebrows. "Michael, she broke up with him yesterday and started going out with you a couple hours later. How do you think he's going to react?"

Michael slumped in his seat. "I wouldn't blame him if he laced my burger with arsenic."

"Maybe…" Mia suggested, "if we don't act like a couple-at least for a while-"

Lilly snorted. "Good luck. Here's a hint: You might want to quit acting all lovey-dovey, otherwise everyone'll know something's up."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Eight days later…(A/N: Michael and Mia have decided that they can-er engage in public displays of affection since Kenny's made it clear he's cool with it.)

Mia walked up to Michael and held up three tickets. "What are these?" she demanded.

Michael raised an eyebrow. "They look like tickets."

"I found them in my Algebra notebook. They're three tickets to see Beauty and the Beast on Broadway." Mia shot him a look. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, now would you?"

"Me?" Michael asked, affecting an innocent look. "Come on, how could I get three tickets to Broadway?"

"That's kind of what I'd like to know," Mia said.

Michael sighed. "Fine. I've got connections, and I thought that you, me, and Lars could go see it. After all, I don't think that your parents are going to let me go anywhere with you without Lars following us."

Mia raised an eyebrow teasingly. "You have connections."

Michael sighed again. "All right, my dad analyses one of the actors and I managed to wrangle some seats. Happy?"

Mia grinned. "Yes." She hugged him, then asked, "Hey, I thought you said that any guy without an ounce of testosterone couldn't watch the show without projectile vomiting. What changed your mind?"

Michael shrugged. "I still think that, Mia. Come on, there's dancing utensils in there, for God's sake."

"So why'd you get them?"

"Here's your chance to prove me wrong."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Absolutely not," Phillipe insisted.

Mia sighed. "Dad, you don't even know him!"

Grandmere walked into the suite, asking, "Know who?"

"I know that I don't want him anywhere near you," Phillipe shot back. "Besides, what do we really know about this boy?"

Mia groaned. "I've known his family for EIGHT YEARS! I have sleepovers with his sister all the time, he's gotten into an Ivy League college, and I know that I really, really like him."

"Like WHO?" Grandmere demanded.

Lars pulled the dowager princess aside and explained what was going on. As he was doing so, Phillipe and Mia continued arguing.

"Let me get this straight. Your mother's actually agreed to let you go out with this delinquent?" Phillipe asked.

"For God's sake, Dad, he's not a delinquent!"

Grandmere interrupted. "Let me get this straight: You were kissing this boy in the janitor's closet, got caught, want to go out with him, and I'm finding this out NOW?"

Mia gulped. "Yes."

"Oh, for God's sake, Phillipe, just let her go," Grandmere told her son.

Phillipe and Mia's jaws dropped, and she barked, "Close your mouths, please."

"Mother, have you lost your mind?" Phillipe demanded. "You're actually suggesting we let her go-"

"Phillipe, really, how much trouble can they get into at a musical with a bodyguard?" Grandmere asked.

Mia hugged her grandmother. "Thank you so much!" she gushed, then turned to her father. "See, Grandmere thinks it's okay."

Phillipe rubbed his head, then sighed. "Fine. But on one condition…"

~*~*~*~*~*~

CracKing: You're SURE I have to meet your dad?

FtLouie: For the hundredth and hopefully last time, yes, Michael, you HAVE to meet my father.

CracKing: You know, I think I liked it better when you were in awe of me.

FtLouie: When was I EVER in awe of you?

CracKing: Come on, Mia, admit it. You worshipped me.

CracKing: Hell, you were ready to create a statue in my honor!

FtLouie: I am so sure!

CracKing: Oh, you were too. Hey, I saw you checking me out when I didn't wear a shirt.

FtLouie: It was kind of hard not to, seeing as how you prance around without one everytime I come over.

CracKing: Excuse me, but I do not PRANCE.

FtLouie: Oh, you SO prance. Not that I minded…

FtLouie: I can't speak for Lilly though.

CracKing: What happened to the sweet, shy, oh-so-innocent Mia who never said a naughty word or a bad thing about anyone?

CracKing: Oh, wait. I forgot. You were introduced to my psychopath of a sister.

FtLouie: (rolling eyes) ANYWAY, my dad's going to interrogate you, so be prepared. You know, what college you're going to, what's your major, why you decided to seduce his only child…

CracKing: Okay, hold it right there. I DID NOT seduce you, all right? You kissed me back!

FtLouie: Michael, after what happened in the janitor's closet, my father views you as the Anti-Christ. You should have seen his face when I told him. It was like I was asking him if I could go out with Marilyn Manson.

CracKing: This is just the kind of impression I wanted to make. How'd you convince them to let you go?

FtLouie: By agreeing to let my dad interrogate you for a solid five minutes.

CracKing: Damn. I'm screwed.

FtLouie: Got that right.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Mr. Gianini smiled as he let Michael in. "Hey, Michael. Come on in."

"Thanks," Michael said. He took a deep breath. "How's it looking out there?" he whispered.

Mr. Gianini whispered back, "Her father's out for blood."

Michael grimaced, then walked toward the kitchen, where Mia's parents were waiting for him in chairs.

"Ms. Thermopolis, Your Highness," Michael said nervously.

"Hello, Michael," Helen said warmly. Phillipe nodded coolly.

There was a long awkward moment where no one knew precisely what to say.

Then Phillipe cleared his throat. "So. I hear you're going to Columbia."

"Yes, sir."

"What's your major?"

Michael took a deep breath. "Computer technology."

Phillipe nodded. Thankfully, Helen chose to interrupt.

"Michael, is your sister really going to-"

Then Mia came out and Michael's jaw dropped.

She was wearing a silvery-grey dress that set off her eyes, sliver clips in her hair, pale pink lip gloss, and silver shoes to match.

"Wow," Michael said softly. "You look-wow."

Mia giggled, then grabbed his arm. "ByeMomDadFrankcomeonLars," Mia rushed out, dragging Michael towards the door. Lars followed them, smirking in amusement.

"Ah, young love," Mr. Gianini remarked.

"Puppy love, you mean," Phillipe countered cynically.

"You are such a cynic," Helen said. "What if it's not?"

Phillipe looked at her skeptically. "Please. It'll be over in two weeks."

"Unlike you, Mr. I-Have-A-New-Girlfriend-Every-Week, Mia takes after me when it comes to romantic interests." Helen stated.

"Let's hope she takes after me in every other respect, because if she doesn't, then Genovia is doomed," Phillipe shot back.

"My God, you two are like little old ladies bickering over the last can of prune juice," Mr. Gianini observed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At the show….

Michael tapped Mia's arm, "Mia, are the forks supposed to shove each other?"

"Of course not," Mia whispered back. "Why?"

" 'Cause the forks are doing just that-oh man! They're fighting on the stage!" Michael yelled.

"Okay, now I KNOW that's not supposed to happen," Mia stated, her eyes growing wide.

Lars peered through his binoculars. "Princess, the clock and candlesticks are now getting into it," he informed them.

Michael sat back in his seat, throughly enjoying himself. "This is better than pay-per-view wrestling."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the limo…

"Come on, Mia, you have to admit that was the most fun you've had at that show."

Mia grinned. "It was definitely the most interesting show I've seen."

Michael laughed. "How about you, Lars?"

Lars considered, then said, "I am now convinced that America is the strangest country on the face of the earth, and Americans the strangest people. Nowhere else can you find dancing forks attacking each other while the heroine and the teapot are trying to rip each other's hair out."

Both Michael and Mia started laughing. "We're here," Lars said. He stepped out to let Mia out of the limo. Michael got out after her, and took her hand.

"Is Lars going to kill me if I kiss you right now?" Michael inquired.

Mia looked at her bodyguard. "Lars, turn around so you won't have to witness this."

Lars turned around oblingingly. As he waited he thought grimly, All those months of training and studying on terrorist attacks and I'm guarding two teenagers with overactive hormones. Good God Almighty.