[Author's Note]
Here I am, updating. Happy? I hope so. But first:
Controversial-roses: I did not slam into his back, I slammed into his shoulder. By the way, he smells really good. Teeheee. "You have no idea how much I love you!" STALKER! Hahaha, nahh, I'm just kidding. I love you too, Mreenster.
SoCalSurferGirl: Haha. Hmmm...by any chance, does this Justin think the sky's too timid [because it never speaks], think deja vu is freaky, and think all chandeliers are haunted?

Such Great Heights
Chapter Four
Calm Before the Storm

"I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images, and that when we kiss they're perfectly aligned."

After that torture session, I couldn't help but treat myself to some ice cream in Central Park. I was still in my Grandmere attire, but I could really care less. It must have looked odd seeing a girl dressed rather primly, walking through Central Park with a dripping ice cream cone and a messenger bag covered with Greenpeace pins slung over her shoulder. And then there was Lars, walking next to me and eating his own sundae talking on and on about something I couldn't even pronounce, let alone have any clue of what it was. I just nodded and smiled, pretending to follow along while I gazed off into the skyline and savored the ice cream before it melted.

I heard my cell phone ringing and dug it out of my messenger bag, flipping it open and holding it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey!" I recognized Michael's voice and smiled, stopping to sit down on a bench. Lars followed closely behind.

"HI!" I said probably a bit too enthusiastically.

"How was the meeting with the oh-so-dreadful Grandmere?"

"So amazingly horrible that I'm now treating myself to chocolate ice cream to make myself feel better."

"You're just giving yourself an excuse for eating ice cream, aren't you?" he asked, laughing.

"Well...yeah. I couldn't help myself. So what are you doing?"

"I just got back from rehearsal, which really didn't even slightly resemble anything close to a rehearsal, since we got no work done."

"Hey, what are you doing tonight?" he added, just as casually as if he was asking what the weather was going to be.

"Um... nothing. I think." I paused, at a loss for words. It shouldn't have been such a surprise, but it surprised me for some odd reason I couldn't exactly distinguish. "Why?" I dared to ask.

"Because I was wondering if you'd want to grab something to eat with me," he replied.

"Um...yeah. Sure. I mean, of course I want to," I said unsteadily, though the smile on my face was growing wider by the second.

"Alright. I'll pick you up at seven?" I glanced at the clock. Five o' clock. I had plenty of time.

"Uh huh. See you then."

"Yeah. I...uh...well, I love you, Mia." he finished.

"I love you, too," I hung up and let out a squeal. Lars gave me an odd look and then laughed more than I have ever seen him laugh before, causing me to blush and punch him in the shoulder. Which, of course, didn't affect him at all considering I have no arm strength whatsoever.

"It's about time you two are together. If I had to go through any more of you two pining over each other and going through various other people with the hope of replacing each other, I might've went and killed myself."

I paced up and down my room anxiously, taking a peek in the mirror every three seconds to make sure I looked okay. I mean, It was, technically, our first date. After much consideration, I had settled on my favorite pair of jeans and a vintage shirt. I'd left my hair down and attempted to put a bit of makeup on, which I hoped worked out okay because I rarely did so.

The doorbell rang and I ran to the door, not wanting anyone else to get there before I did. I stopped, took a deep breath, and opened it.

There was Michael, standing there with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing jeans, a Star Wars tee-shirt, and a pair of Chuck Taylor's. His hair was adorably messy and he was just standing there, waiting to be let in as I stared.

'Hey..." he said, trying to gain my attention, which I must admit worked.

I shook my head and blinked, telling him to come on in. I could hear Rocky charging down the hallway and braced myself for embarrassment. He ran right up to Michael and charged into him, talking in some language unknown to any human being. I sighed and picked him up, struggling to keep him in my grasp and he writhed around in my arms like some sort of fish. I was unbelievably grateful when my mom came and rescued me from the monster who happened to be my brother. She picked him up and sent him off back to his room to put on his pajamas, and thankfully, he didn't object. He dashed off back into his room screaming happily at the top of his lungs.

I was used to this.

"I'm so sorry," I said, turning to Michael, who seemed purely amused by the whole ordeal.

"So where are you two going tonight?" she asked, turning to me and Michael. She hadn't been very surprised when I let her know who I had a date with that night, but just smiled to herself as if she knew it would happen all along. I've been getting that reaction from a lot of people lately.

"A restaurant not far from here," he replied.

"Sounds nice."

"We'd better go," I said hurriedly, hoping we could get out of there before Mr. G came down and started interrogating Michael on how he was doing, et cetera, et cetera. He had the tendency of doing that with former-students, and I wasn't all to eager to hang around and wait for him to embarrass me.

"Alright, have her back by midnight."

"I will," Michael promised as I dragged him out of the door.

"So where's Lars? Doesn't he follow you everywhere?" Michael asked as we walked down Bleecker Street.

"Nah, not tonight. I convinced him you'd protect me."

"Oh, I see. I have some big shoes to fill, then. Why do you have a bodyguard, anyway?"

It was the absolute perfect opportunity to tell him. "Because I... I'm a pr--. I mean, my father's overprotective." I chickened out. "And rich," I added, to make it more believable. God, why was I doing this?

"That sucks. Well, at least you got a cool bodyguard like Lars."

"He always seemed to like you. I don't know why. Maybe he knows us better than we know ourselves."

"He probably does," Michael said laughing.

We came to a small restaurant in a relatively short amount of time, talking and laughing the whole way there. It was nice to talk to Michael like this, with no pressure.

He grabbed us a small table away from the window, which was logical, considering if he sat in clear view he would be spotted within seconds. He pulled out my chair for me, and I was stunned considering no boyfriend I've had ever pulled out my chair, or even opened the door for me. But then again, my previous boyfriends weren't all that great manners-wise.

"It's amazing how little you've changed," I said to him as he sat himself down. Grabbing his menu and scanning it.

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking up into my eyes. He always seemed to be staring into my eyes when he talked to me. I always admired him for it.

"Well, you've been away on tour for the past year, getting famous and all of that, and yet you're still the same Michael."

"Who did you expect?" he asked, amused. "A self-absorbed, materialistic, pop culture icon? Pfft. Puh-lease." I laughed. "Besides," he continued, "I don't even like the fame that much. It's alright, I guess, but it gets frustrating after a while. I do it for the music."

"You always were music-obsessed."

"And you always had horrible taste in music."

"I did not!" I defended, laughing.

"Oh, you did to! Come on. Beyonce? I was the one who introduced you to the good stuff. Like Brand New and Rooney."

"Well...yeah," I gave in. "But I still like Beyonce!"

Michael laughed. "You, my love, are a very multifaceted person."

We left the restaurant after eating the biggest meal I've ever had, stepping out into a torrential downpour, raindrops the size of very small rodents.

Maybe I'm exaggerating. I have the tendency of stretching the truth to make my life more interesting, but come to think of it my life isn't all that boring anyway.

But I digress.

So there I stood, getting soaked and yet not really caring. I looked up towards the sky and savored every drop of it. Michael grabbed my hand and smiled down at me, his hair wet and droplets of water dripping off the edge of his nose. He leaned down and kissed me, neither of us really pulling away until the thunder started.

"As much as I love the rain," Michael said, "I think our best bet would be to call Lars to come pick us up. I'm really not into the whole 'getting hit by lightning thing'."

I laughed and nodded in agreement, leading him under the awning. I took out my cell phone and dialed Lars. He picked up and said he'd come ASAP after Michael assisted me in giving directions, since I'm totally oblivious to names of streets and how to get places.

I shivered, cold from the wetness that had overtaken every parcel of clothing on my body.Michael took one glance at me and sacrificed his hoodie for me, as if he'd read my thoughts. I slipped it over my head and became instantly warm, though it was way too big for me and also kind of wet. The inside was still dry. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said nonchalantly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"I love you Thermopolis," he said softly into my ear.

"I love you too, Moscovitz," I said as the limo pulled up. We hopped in as quickly as possible, soaking wet and our shoes squeaking.

"Did you go for a swim?" Lars asked, amused to bits, even though his face didn't really show it. He never really displayed his emotions in his expressions. I guess it's a bodyguard thing.

"Close to it," Michael shrugged. Him and Lars shared some sort of meaningful look while they thought I wasn't looking, and Lars gave some sort of nod of acknowledgement or something. I will never understand guys.

Come to think of it, Lars has never liked any of my previous boyfriends... except Michael. He's always really warmed up to Michael.

Go figure.

Michael walked me to my door in the rain, giving me a quick kiss before shoving me through the door, saying "You're going to get sick if you stay out here any longer."

I lingered in the doorway and stared at him for a minute, standing there with his dark hair dripping and his clothes plastered to his face. I was about to tell him, then and there. I came this close, I swear I did.

"I need to tell you something..." I started. "I...I'm...in love with you." Okay, close enough, right? Why is the word princess so hard to say around him.

"I've been in love with you for a long while, Thermopolis. It's nice to hear." He grinned, took my hand in his and kissed it, running back into the limo.

I was digging my own grave, and knew it. But I'd rather bury myself alive than ruin my chances with Michael Moscovitz.

[Author's Note]
Okay, now it's your turn to review.
Oh, and Maureen, I added that little "go figure" line in there just for you ;D