A/N: Woohoo. Two more chapters after this.

Michael and I finally got back to school, around 5th period.

"There's really no point in going inside," I said as we stood before the doors, which kind of seemed a little foreboding. Lars had already hurried inside, though, muttering something about Wahim getting his dirty paws on Mademoiselle Klein. Personally, I have no problem with Lars shirking his bodyguard duties, but I made a mental note never to mention it to my dad.

"Huh. I guess you're right. Dammit, Mia, you've infected me with your delinquency!" Insert a giggle from me. "Do you want to go hang out at the loft?" I shrugged and nodded, always eager to miss more school. We took the subway, which was oddly fun, as I haven't really done it since I found out I was a princess and all. He loosely held my hand the whole way, looking down when other people passed, though.

"Do you not want to ride with me?" I asked quietly. I mean, it had to be embarrassing.

"What? Where'd you get an idea like that?"

"Because I'm a princess and a freshman and…" I didn't say flat-chested, as I felt that would be just a bit too much sharing.

"No. Mia, you know I don't really like PDA. I told you, some things are private."

"Oh."

"'Oh' is right. Now don't go thinking I'm embarrassed by you or anything. That's ridiculous. I love you." He added the last part in a whisper, as this large blonde family was passing by just then.

I blushed and Michael squeezed my hand. Dream Michael is the coolest guy ever. Except for Real Michael, because Real Michael is obviously too cool to love me. Other than that, though, Dream and Real Michael were just alike. I guess it's just my little fantasy, though, that Michael Moscovitz actually wants to kiss me and hold my hand and skip school with me. Le sigh.

I fumbled with the keys, but finally got the door open. "Hello?" Michael called around the apartment, just to be dramatic. He knew my mom was at the studio. "Nobody's home."

"Oh, my stars," I giggled. "Maybe you should go then."

"Oh, no, Thermopolis," he said, wagging a finger, "Don't think you can get rid of me that easily."

"Darn," I said, "Well, I guess we'll just have to find something to pass the time."

"I've got a suggestion," he laughed.

"We'll put it up to a vote."

"All right, all for kissing: say aye!" But he didn't give me a chance to respond before his mouth found mine. I wasn't too upset, though.

Michael went to the kitchen for drinks and came back to where I was sitting on the couch to hand me a Sprite. "There was a message for you on the answering machine."

"Oh, yeah? What'd it say?"

He gave me a strange grin. "Your mom and Mr. G have gone to visit his parents. They'll be back tomorrow and said Lars would be coming to sleep on the couch."

"Ugh. Lars on my couch?"

"Maybe I'll stay instead. But not on your couch, oh no."

"Where then?" I laughed and popped open my Sprite.

"Well, I was thinking I'd stay in your bed…" He arched an eyebrow. "And you can sleep on the couch. After all, you're supposed to give your guests the best."

"Yeah, I never heard that rule."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Then I guess next time you spend the night at our apartment, you can just sleep in the bathroom or something. And no coming into my room late at night for make-out sessions any more. The only reason I obliged before, you know, was because I was a strict believer in the guest rule."

"Okay, fine. You can sleep in my bed."

"Yeah?"

"But I'm not sleeping on the couch."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of it."

I wouldn't either.

I called Lars and had Michael do a Mr. G impression, informing him that he wouldn't need to come over, as my mom and Mr. G had been kept in town because of the traffic. Michael kept his hand over my mouth as I talked, as I was laughing like a hyena.

"You could so never be a secret agent," he said after he had hung up, shaking his head.

"Darn, there goes my big dream, up in smoke. I always wanted to be Mrs. James Bond."

Michael laughed. "And I think he always wanted to be Prince James Renaldo."

Michael Renaldo sounds way better. A second later, Michael voiced the same thought aloud, right before kissing me.

I made a deal with him, after bickering for seven minutes: we watched Pretty Woman first, Michael seeming a bit more interested in nuzzling my neck than watching big-haired Julia Roberts, though. But as much as he bitched and moaned as I put A Little Princess in the VCR, he was on the edge of the seat by the middle. "But Mrs. Minchin can't do that!" he moaned. "That's so goddamn cruel."

"Tell me about it."

"No one better fuck with my princess like that." He sat back on the couch with his arm around me. "Ready to go to sleep? We do have school tomorrow."

"Ugh. School. Fine, then. But let's finish the movie first."

"If you want to…" I laughed at his nonchalant act. He was way more into it than I was.

I came out of my shower and flopped down beside Michael on the bed. His hair was still damp from his own shower, and I brushed it away from his face. "I kind of love having you as a boyfriend."

His face broke out into a smile. "Well, I love you."

I tried to smile but it was hard. Michael wouldn't love me for much longer. At least not after I woke up. I'd enjoy tonight, though. Not in that way, of course. But in the way of laying in Michael's arms as he whispered corny jokes into my ear. He fell asleep before I did, his head lolling against my shoulder, but I found it hard to drift off. How much longer could this all last? I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes, hoping that maybe this dream could go on forever.

I was in the school hallway, but instead of the dozens of people pushing past me like there usually was, I saw no one. It freaked me out, to say the least, but before I could start panicking, I spotted Michael at the end of the corridor. "Michael!" I called.

He waved, wearing a lopsided grin on his face. I started to walk towards him, but he didn't seem to be getting any closer. "Michael?" I yelled again, now beginning to panic.

"Hey, Mia!" he said, still smiling. He was getting farther away. I broke into a run and he started calling my name again and again, louder and more urgent. "Mia. Mia!"

My eyes flew open to see Michael Moscovitz standing in the doorway of the Moscovitzes' den, looking quite concerned. "You okay, Thermopolis?"

There was no kiss or hand squeeze to accompany his greeting. "Uh huh," I nodded, but I was so not okay. Not in the least. Because it had finally happened. The dream was over.

[The story's not over yet. Liked it? Review.]