A/N: Ryan Adams! Okay, songfic. Yay.  The lyrics enhance the story, but I GUESS you don't really HAVE to read them… you just should.

Disclaimer: I don't own and never will…

Sad days
Hanging around
And you kick the can with the boys
Run in the park
Sleep until dark
And then go out for more.

Lonely days
I don't give a damn for lonely days
I know you do, and I can't sweat the change

All you wanted from me was nothing
And damn, you gave it to me
Oh, fuck me

God bless the lids on your eyes that you closed when you could have stared
God bless the fumbling tune you sing to yourself when you're scared
God bless the week
God bless the week
God bless the week you go away

What do you say for yourself?
You don't know, and you don't care anyhow
What do you say for yourself?
You don't know, and you don't care anyhow

God bless the lids on your eyes that you closed when you could have stared
God bless the fumbling tune you sing to yourself when you're scared
God bless the week
God bless the week
God bless the week you go away

MICHAEL

"Damn it!" I yelled in frustration. Hastily putting away my guitar, apologized to the band and stormed towards the door. I wasn't about to stick around now. I couldn't get my mind off of her. Sure it was her birthday, but seriously. I shouldn't still be stuck on her; still playing the songs I wrote for her. About her. If only I would think when I played, maybe I could steer myself away from thoughts of her. I mean, I have a girlfriend.

Yes, my girlfriend. Emily. Popular. Cheerleader. Pretty. Smart. Well, smart if you can use the term loosely. She could keep up relatively high grades, but she was no where near as intelligent as Mia. DAMN IT! I had walked an entire city block without thinking about her, but then, no, no, no. My subconscious has to get the best of me. Again.

On the surface, it may seem like I'm being unfair to Emily, but I'm really not. Mia's never around. And it's impossible to still be in love with someone who never comes around. Except for Thanksgivings, and maybe a few other times in a year, if we're lucky. Mia is simply a memory to me. Emily is real. Tangible. Emily still lives in New York. She can experience the city with me. And she can make me forget about my little princess, even if just for short periods of time.

Not to say that I yearn after Mia, or that I spend countless hours on the internet researching the Genovian Royal Family, or subscribe to online European tabloids to keep an eye on her. I just happen to think of her at times when I hear great song on the radio. Songs that remind me of her. Or when Emily makes me go see chick flicks with her. Is it such a crime that when the hero gets the heroine in the end, I think of the Princess of Genovia, and not the princess of plastic sitting next to me?

Man, I really am messed up. But it's merely because it's her birthday. Tomorrow is a new day, and everything will be back to normal. No more thoughts of Mia! Yes. That is my new resolution. I'm only allowed to think of Mia on her birthday. And when she is in the city. And Thanksgiving. The last two usually coinciding. Perfect. I'll only think of Mia approximately two times a year: today and Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving, now those are happy times. With Mia's head case Grandmere paying for Helen Thermopolis to fly to Genovia for Christmas every year, the only holiday that Mia was allowed to celebrate back in the good ol' Big Apple was Thanksgiving. Or, as Grandmere referred to it- 'that stupid American day where everyone competes to see who can eat the most caloric and dreadful foods.'

Each year, Mia would fly in Wednesday morning and spend the next three days with her mother. Then, on the Saturdays, Lilly would drag Mia out of bed at an ungodly hour, and they would tape a special edition of "Lilly Tells It Like It Is." When they would finish, the three of us (and sometimes a few other close friends of Mia's) would grab lunch and head out to do things in different parts of the city. The sun usually set on the Mia and I sitting on the swings in Central Park while Lilly terrorized a handful of the tourists passing though.

The Saturday nights of Mia's stay were always my favorite. We would order food from her favorite Chinese restaurant. Mia has this fetish with chopsticks. She eats EVERYTHING with chopsticks. If you think I'm kidding, you don't know Mia. It drove her Grandmere crazy to the point that she forbid the entire kitchen staff of the palace from allowing Mia to eat with anything that wasn't a fork, spoon, or knife.

While we waited for our food to arrive, Lilly and Mia would argue over which movie they wanted to watch as I sat back and watched them. What can I say? It was amusing. Mia's nosed scrunched up just perfectly when she was fighting with my little sister and it was adorable. When the food finally did arrive, the two would make the delivery boy decide between two or three Molly Ringwald movies and then proceed to watch whichever he suggested.

Sometimes I just don't understand Lilly. We may be related, but we're polar opposites. For one thing, she absolutely cannot stay awake though a movie if she's tired, which is something I am eternally grateful for. Lilly has fallen asleep each year. Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, and Pretty In Pink. She never made it to the end of any of them.

After she had fallen asleep, Mia and I always went off to the kitchen to make more popcorn and just to talk. When she told me of her royalness, Mia had made me swear to never tell a soul. Not even Lilly. She wanted Mia Thermopolis and Amelia Renaldo to be just that, two different people. I was the only person allowed to know because she had slipped, so I was the only person, besides Helen that is, that she could talk about being royal to. And boy did that feel good.

Following our midnight talks, we would settle in on the couch to watch our favorite trilogy- Star Wars- quoting our favorite lines, and keeping up a running commentary throughout the movies. We would usually fall asleep in compromising positions, only to be awoken a few hours later by a screaming Lily and the smell of pancakes.

Our Sunday afternoons were lazy, marked only by a mandatory trip to Serendipity for frozen hot chocolates. She would leave late in the afternoon and I would go back to my pathetic life. Each year I would look forward to the Saturday after the third Thursday in November and then I would dwell on it until the middle December. Sometimes I would talk to Mia online, but not often because of the time difference.

I pondered this as I go off the Metro, and as I walked in the direction of my apartment building, and as I took the elevator up to my floor. I was finally pulled out of my reverie by a girl who looked about Lilly's age standing, looking nervous, outside of our door.

As I walked closer, the girl's figure became clearer. She stood about 5'8". She had longish auburn hair cascading down her shoulders. She was built in a similar way to a certain princess I know. NO MORE THINKING ABOUT MIA! Okay, back to the girl. She was wearing torn and tattered jeans (very un-princessy) and a black pea coat (once again, very un-Genovian, but perfectly New Yorker). She looked as if she was debating whether or not to knock on the door, so I decided to have some fun and make the decision much easier for her.

"Can I he-" I began but my words tripped over my tongue when the girl spun around quickly and turned out to be none other than my (very astonished) Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Grimaldi Renaldo.

A/N: R&R loves! And muchas gracias to my already reviewers! You rock. Seriously.