For Kat, who gives so much love to the Schwartzibrow. Schwartzibrow almost appreciates this more than monetary compensation for Schwartzibrow's efforts.

Michael's POV

God, she had so much powder on, it was shining at me the whole time the movie played.

Not that I was looking at her or anything.

It would be easier to make fun of the princess (in my head) if she wasn't so not-a-whore. But this whole make-up thing just doesn't suit her. And she already told me it wasn't her idea. I don't know…I just don't hang around girls that often who suddenly don't want me.

Sure, I made fun of her and everything. I hurt her feelings pretty badly. But they usually bounce back! Not to sound arrogant, but I'm a wanted man. The ladies are pretty resilient when it comes to lusting after me.

She's not even looking at me! She's just staring resolutely at the screen, watching that retard Patrick Bell, instead of me. Seriously, I'm nice enough to take her to the movies and PAY for her ticket. But what does she do in return? Shower some other guy with her affection!

Patrick's just a pretty-boy with absolutely nothing between the ears. I've hung out with the guy before. Believe me, he's nothing special.

Too bad Amelia's the only one in the theater ignoring me. I could do with a little less intention from her friend, who is plainly gaping at me, not even trying to hide it. And the bodyguard has his beady little eyes trained on my every move, but come on, like I'm going to try anything. She's a stupid 14-year old.

Plus, I think she's beginning to return my annoyance. She's like Lilly, but much more attractive.

I mean, rabid. That's completely what I meant.

Lilly may be pudgy, but Mia's all bone. Neither of them have the best hairstyles. And while Lilly seems to stomp everywhere, Mia just trips.

Of course they don't like me! They're…well, mutant girls. Immune to the sexual drive.

I felt something brush my hand as I reached for the popcorn and glanced up quickly to see Mia stuffing a handful into her mouth, her cheeks red.

So maybe not so immune…

Mia's POV

The credits rolled and Michael stood, looking down at me. God, he's tall. "Ready?" he asked, no trace of a smile, real or fake, on his face now.

"Uh huh." I stood just as the clenched teeth reappeared. He walked with me down the aisle, ignoring the stares and whispers of fellow moviegoers watching our trek down the aisle.

"Did he hold your hand?" squealed Tina in her ear.

"Keep it down," I hissed. Michael was only a foot away! "And no, he did NOT hold my hand. Don't be ridiculous."

"He sure wasn't watching the movie," said Tina coyly.

Whatever. Did she not hear my tirade on Michael Wilson? He's a self-absorbed douchebag and that's about it. The only thing special about him is his ability to make the ladies swoon, and James Dean can do that for me any day.

As we were exiting the theater, Michael—completely out of nowhere—grabbed my hand. I could practically hear Tina dying of joy, even though she was a full ten feet behind us.

Who does he think he is, just holding my hand like that? I'm not one of his stupid lovesick fans who hyperventilate at the very sight of him.

I will admit that I'm a bit short of breath right now, but that's only because it's a long walk from the door to the theater to the street, where Michael's car was waiting.

Michael's hand is way nicer than his personality. Like, if he could transfer the nice way in which his warm hand was enclosed over my much smaller one, swinging just a little between us as his thumb brushed my knuckles…well, he'd have one hell of a boy.

"Sorry about that," said Michael, once we were safely inside his Mercedes. "The paparazzi were swarming at the end of the block."

Is that the angle he's going for? Like we're dating? Does that mean I have to go on more of these horrifying outings? And what about Kenny?

Sadly, that's the first time I've thought of him all day. But obviously, I've been preoccupied by not getting too annoyed with the idiot (Michael, that is).

"Right," I said. I was so glad that Tina and Lars were in a car behind us. They would make this all way more awkward than it already is. "Look, I'm sorry you got roped into hanging out with me, but I didn't plan this. You don't have to do me any favors."

Michael actually looked downright stunned for a second or two, but then he shook his head a little, giving me a strange expression. It wasn't fake, but it wasn't really nice or mean.

"I am sorry…for what I said, ya know. About the Josh deal. I get in trouble for my mouth a lot."

I figured out his expression…it was apologetic. Michael was sincerely sorry. And I know how he acts sorry…there's way more pout.

Michael's POV

It's kind of freaky, but I'm finding myself feeling sorry for Mia. I hardly ever feel anything for anyone!

But she seemed so surprised when I held her hand. And I'm acting in a movie of her life right now…it's not too peachy. Plus, she just went out in public looking like a circus clown.

"So you are just here because you feel bad for me?"

Basically, yeah. I just shrugged, though. "You've got it tough, I know. So I thought maybe I could stop being such a pain in the ass."

And maybe she'll return the favor.

I'm really not a bad guy, though. She should know this. I mean, she and her friend are totally going to blab about all this to YM or whatever.

I'm telling the truth, though. Not just to save my career either. My mom thinks I'm freaking adorable…though not in the same way most girls do, of course.

Mia's giggles interrupted my thoughts. "You don't even know me!"

"Yeah," I said slowly. "I've read all about—"

"Michael," she interrupted me, still laughing. "Some director and my grandmother's idea of me is far, far different from my real life." She broke off into giggles again, motioning toward her face. "My best friend doesn't even see that this is sooo not my thing."

I laughed too. Not at her, for once. "I get what you mean. I mean, people just think they know Michael Wilson." She raised an eyebrow at my use of the third person, which, I'll admit, sounded a bit stuffy.

"Of course they know you! You're all over every single magazine and on television and in movies."

"Hypocrite!" I cried, pointing at her triumphantly. "I just know Jacques's idea of you, Amelia, but YOU just know my agent's idea of Michael Wilson!"

"Stop doing that!" she said, laughing. "You're not a queen or anything."

"The Enquirer begs to differ," I countered. Geez. Since when was I having fun with the princess? "And I'm not Michael Wilson."

"Oh?" she said, eyeing me as if I was out of my mind. Which, seeing as how I was giggling like a school girl with…a school girl, I just might be.

"I'm Michael…Moscovitz." Damn, just rolls off the tongue.

"Well, I'm Mia Thermopolis," she said, grinning wickedly as she stuck out a hand in greeting. I shook it heartily. "Nice to meet you."

It was kinda nice.

We pulled up at the loft, and for a moment, I was a bit sorry I'd made sure this afternoon was brief. I also noted with a frown that the bodyguard and friend had stopped too.

"Wanna come up…for dinner, I mean?" said Mia, looking at me nervously. "It's just take-out. But I kinda wanna wash off all this make-up and maybe we could play Mario Kart…"

Who says no to Mario Kart? Seriously?

"I'd love to," I found myself saying, opening the door of the car.

I just hoped that Deena girl didn't plan on hanging out too. It's in my creed to only befriend one teenage girl per decade.

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