Disclaimer: This is story inspired by....Meg Cabot, the queen of all that is Princess, as long as it is Diary.
Author's Note: Um...The ball dropping, for any of you that have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, is an American tradition. Everyone tunes their TV in to a news station to watch this huge ball of little lights and things drop to the ground a minute before midnight of New Year's Eve. Oh...and Lilly is such a killjoy. Seriously.
Tuesday, January 1st, 12:00 PM, the loft
Last night went better than I expected. Except Michael risked getting in major trouble with his parents for me, but it ended up ok. I had all this sparkling apple cider, and found out AFTERWARDS that it has like 1% alcohol in it. From now on, I vow to check the label before I start drinking things.
Sometimes I think that Michael can read my mind, because he knew that night that I was feeling horribly about the whole thing with Lilly.
"Relax," Michael said to me, getting his fingers stuck in my massive head of hair in an attempt to smooth it down. "It's ok. We'll tell her tomorrow, and everything will be fine. Promise."
"I don't WANT to tell her!" I said, wiping my eyes. "Imagine what she'll say...she'll hate me...Can't we just lie?"
Now that I think about it, Michael TOTALLY should have taken that as an insult, but he's too caring.
"Mia, she's done this kind of stuff to you all the time."
"No...no she hasn't," I said, putting my head on his chest.
"Yeah, of course she has! What about...what about when she ran away with Hank?"
"You mean when she helped Hank. And what about it?"
Michael made a face at my defense. "She could have told you where she was going. I mean, her reasons for not doing it were ridiculous!"
"But remember? She had a good excuse...she said, 'Do you know how fragile the male ego is?' and 'You know how fatalistic boys can be.' "
"Exactly! And if that was true, then I wouldn't be sitting here with you while you tell me things like this."
A short laugh protruded through my tears.
"And what about when she interviewed you when you slept over? Did you give her your permission?" Michael continued.
"No, but she told me that was because I would have said no anyway."
"So she knew that you wouldn't want her to do that, and she went ahead with it anyway."
I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve. "I guess so."
"And what about when she inconsiderately scheduled that walk-out during your own stepfather's Algebra class, so your only option was to pull the fire alarm and risk suspension."
And suddenly, all that was going through my head was "OH, CRAP!" I lifted my head off his chest to look at his face.. "Was it that obvious?"
Michael laughed and sat back. "It was just a hunch."
I lied down and put my head in his lap and just sat there, thinking. After a few minutes, I spoke.
"You're right. She always does this stuff to me."
Michael laughed, smoothing my hair down again, only this time I noticed, more carefully. "I'm always right."
And then we realized what time it was. And then night went, the ball dropped, and lips touched...
And afterwards, we were both so tired that we fell asleep on the couch.
Author's Note: Um...The ball dropping, for any of you that have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, is an American tradition. Everyone tunes their TV in to a news station to watch this huge ball of little lights and things drop to the ground a minute before midnight of New Year's Eve. Oh...and Lilly is such a killjoy. Seriously.
Tuesday, January 1st, 12:00 PM, the loft
Last night went better than I expected. Except Michael risked getting in major trouble with his parents for me, but it ended up ok. I had all this sparkling apple cider, and found out AFTERWARDS that it has like 1% alcohol in it. From now on, I vow to check the label before I start drinking things.
Sometimes I think that Michael can read my mind, because he knew that night that I was feeling horribly about the whole thing with Lilly.
"Relax," Michael said to me, getting his fingers stuck in my massive head of hair in an attempt to smooth it down. "It's ok. We'll tell her tomorrow, and everything will be fine. Promise."
"I don't WANT to tell her!" I said, wiping my eyes. "Imagine what she'll say...she'll hate me...Can't we just lie?"
Now that I think about it, Michael TOTALLY should have taken that as an insult, but he's too caring.
"Mia, she's done this kind of stuff to you all the time."
"No...no she hasn't," I said, putting my head on his chest.
"Yeah, of course she has! What about...what about when she ran away with Hank?"
"You mean when she helped Hank. And what about it?"
Michael made a face at my defense. "She could have told you where she was going. I mean, her reasons for not doing it were ridiculous!"
"But remember? She had a good excuse...she said, 'Do you know how fragile the male ego is?' and 'You know how fatalistic boys can be.' "
"Exactly! And if that was true, then I wouldn't be sitting here with you while you tell me things like this."
A short laugh protruded through my tears.
"And what about when she interviewed you when you slept over? Did you give her your permission?" Michael continued.
"No, but she told me that was because I would have said no anyway."
"So she knew that you wouldn't want her to do that, and she went ahead with it anyway."
I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve. "I guess so."
"And what about when she inconsiderately scheduled that walk-out during your own stepfather's Algebra class, so your only option was to pull the fire alarm and risk suspension."
And suddenly, all that was going through my head was "OH, CRAP!" I lifted my head off his chest to look at his face.. "Was it that obvious?"
Michael laughed and sat back. "It was just a hunch."
I lied down and put my head in his lap and just sat there, thinking. After a few minutes, I spoke.
"You're right. She always does this stuff to me."
Michael laughed, smoothing my hair down again, only this time I noticed, more carefully. "I'm always right."
And then we realized what time it was. And then night went, the ball dropped, and lips touched...
And afterwards, we were both so tired that we fell asleep on the couch.