[Here's where things start to get nifty. Enjoy.]

Things are certainly looking up.

I was laying on the Moscovitzes' couch with my eyes closed, listening to the sounds of Maya making pancakes in the kitchen. But then I felt something brush against my shoulder. I jumped up and shrieked, thinking it was a roach or something. After carefully opening my eyes, though, I saw Michael Moscovitz perched on the edge of the couch, looking at me as one might view an interesting animal in the zoo. "Is everything all right, Thermopolis?"

I sat beside him, feeling quite embarrassed over the whole incident. "Uh, yeah. You just kind of freaked me out."

He smiled and touched my cheek. "Sorry about that."

His hand remained there, though, until Maya called us to breakfast. I followed Michael to the kitchen, a little perturbed. But happy too. It's not every day a girl gets awoken by her crush (aside from the hysterics) and then touched by him. Michael's hands are super-soft though, and his fingers are long and beautiful. They probably get a lot of exercise, with him playing the guitar all the time and all.

Michael sat down at the kitchen table and eagerly shoveled pancakes into his mouth, ignoring a reproving look from Maya. "Small bites, Mr. Michael," she said, shaking her head. He grudgingly picked up his knife and sliced the pancakes into smaller portions.

"So, Mia," he said, swallowing a mouthful. But right at that moment, Lilly walked into the room, her hair looking particularly frizzy and out-of-control.

"Do you really need all of that, Michael?" she asked with an arched brow, as Maya set another plate down in front of him. Lilly's one to talk. I mean, she's my friend and all, but she so does not have the abs of Michael. Lilly sat down at her own plate and eagerly explained the episode of Lilly Tells It Like It Is that we were filming that day, in which we were apparently going to attempt to convince passersby that we're deaf with some sort of ridiculous sign-language Lilly made up. Bring. It. On.

I don't have attention-deficit disorder or anything, but it was seriously hard to listen to Lilly. It's all Michael's fault, though, not mine. He kept smiling at me the whole meal, and brushing his bare foot up against mine. I just kind of looked down at my plate, the color rising in my cheeks.

I got up to rinse my plate. "I'm going to go get my jacket, Lil, and then I'll be ready to go."

She nodded and I walked out of the room, grabbing my jean jacket from Lilly's room. I was heading back to the kitchen, when someone jumped out and pushed me into the closet, shutting the door behind us.

It was pitch-black inside, but before I could say a word, I felt these lips pressed up against mine. Don't get me wrong, I was freaked out and everything. But the kiss felt good. My attacker slipped his (I assumed it was a boy) hand around my waist.

So here I was, in the Moscovitzes' hall closet, making out with some guy I couldn't even see. His tongue was in my mouth. But I still wasn't saying anything, until his hand slipped under my shirt and then I was all, "No way, buddy" and I kneed him in the groin. Because that's what you're supposed to do to rapists, right? Even ones who can kiss marvelously. Otherwise I'd end up like those teenage mothers on Dateline.

"Agh! What the hell, Mia!" the guy said. I opened the door and he fell out of the closet, his face screwed up in pain. "What was that for?"

And then I saw who the pervert was. Michael Moscovitz. I had been making out with Michael Moscovitz in his closet. And…Oh. My. God. I kicked him in the balls. He must hate my guts. "Oh, God, Michael! I'm so sorry!" I squeaked, and then I hurried back down the hall to Lilly. Things always seem to be a bit clearer around Lilly, even when we are pulling insane stunts for her public access show.

"Lilly?" I finally spoke up. We were standing underneath a tree in the park, a cool breeze blowing past. Lilly wiggled her hands around as an elderly couple passed. They stared at her and quickened their step.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, is your brother feeling all right?"

"What do you mean?"

I shivered and pulled my jacket a little tighter. "He was just acting a little strange this morning."

"Are you talking about the closet incident?" Dammit. Does Lilly always have to know everything that goes on in her house? I guess it's better than me actually having to tell her though.

"Yeah, you heard about that?"

"Well, I followed him when he left the kitchen and saw him dive at you. And then I heard his squeal of pain and talked to him after you scurried out of there. He didn't say much, but he had that look of total agony that boys tend to get when their lower region's been attacked."

I stared. How could she be so matter-of-fact about all of this? One: her brother practically raped me. Two: This was her brother, kissing me, in a closet. And Three: Why the hell was Michael kissing me?

"So what happened?" Lilly asked, performing some strange shuffle routine as a woman and her two-year old passed, looking as if she desperately wanted them to understand something. The toddler watched avidly but his mother pulled him away, looking daggers at us.

"Um, he kissed me?"

"And that's a problem, why?"

"God, who kidnapped Lilly? Michael sexually assaulted me and that's all you have to say?"

Lilly looked highly amused. "I wouldn't say he sexually assaulted you. But the closet thing is a bit tacky."

I left Lilly an hour later, still quite bewildered. At home, I put in my OK Go CD and went to the computer to check my email. There was a message from Michael:

Cracking

Mia, I'm seriously sorry about what happened this morning. Don't know what came over me. But is there something wrong? Because you've never freaked out like that before. At least not about kissing. Call me when you get home and we'll talk. Hope you had a good time with Lilly, or at least didn't get arrested.

Love, Michael.

I stared at the screen as my jaw dropped to the floor. Love? LOVE?!

[Hehehe. I know what's going on, do you? Review and give your opinion.]