Okay so thank you everyone who reviewed, favourited even looked at the first chapter (: Especially those who reviewed :D I'll reply properly to those of you I couldn't PM at the end of the chapter.

So, I'll get writing now and hopefully get this chapter out as soon as I can for all of youu. This was started on Sunday 12th, but it took me about three days because I was interrupted so much last time, so just bear with me.

It's all Meg's .

Thursday 5th July, 10:00am

The phone is ringing for what is possibly the gazillionth time this morning.

Michael's home phone this is – I threw my own cell against the wall hours ago.

If this keeps up I swear there's going to be a murder before midday today.

And I haven't yet ruled out suicide either.

Seriously, is it too much to ask to have at least one decent hour's sleep in this place?

Thankfully, the steam engine beside me shut up about six-ish, but, almost as if someone is actually trying to kill me – and I wouldn't put it past Grandmere, even if she seems to have mellowed just the tiniest bit after I chose Sarah Lawrence, she sure as heck wasn't too happy with me when I snubbed Genovia for a summer with Michael – that immediately coincided with when the phones started ringing.

I suppose I should've at least checked to see who it was that seemed to want to speak to me so very urgently, but –

Aah, finally some PEACE. I think Michael's disconnected the phone line. I always knew there was a reason I loved him so much; not including the smell of his neck, of course.

Now I can just have a nice little nap before getting up to face the wrath of the phantom… uh, caller.

Thursday, 10:30am, In Bed, Eating Pancakes

Okay, so Michael came in about fifteen minutes after his genius feat of disconnecting the phone line with a tray full of pancakes and a hot chocolate and, well, how can you go back to sleep when faced with that?

Plus, aside from being a worldwide-phenomenon-robotic-surgical-arm-builder, Michael makes some damn good pancakes.

Except I'm kind of getting crumbs all over his bed.

See, it turns out it's pretty hard to eat pancakes, whilst balancing a tray on your lap and writing in your journal all at the same time.

And now Michael seems to have decided to re-enter the room just as I was getting the hang of multi-tasking, so I guess I can add 'trying to not look like an idiot in front of all-round-genius-and-Christian-Bale resembling-boyfriend'.

Okay and now he's looking at the journal with his eyebrow raised sort of like he's wondering why the heck I'm writing in it.

Oops. Time to go.

Thursday, 11:00am, Bathroom

Michael cleverly decided to avoid asking me about my apparent inability to quit writing in this journal, and instead asked if I wanted to spend the day with him.

I accepted, and have now excused myself to have a shower.

Thursday, 11:02am, Still in the Bathroom

Okay, so I know this is going to sound really stupid but… I'm scared.

I mean, what if what Tina was talking about yesterday is true? What if… in the plughole… you know, I'll find some, um, unwanted substances.

Don't get me wrong, I am totally and completely mature now; but if he thinks I'm going to start, uh, 'cleaning up after him', then he is so wrong. That is just gross.

Alright, I'll just peak in and see if there's anything there…

Thursday, 11:05am, Still in the Bathroom

I don't want to look.

Fine, I'm going to look.

Thursday, 11:06am, Bathroom

Phewph, the coast is clear, we're good to go.

I should know better by now than to listen to Tina. She may have read every romance novel on this earth, but when it comes down to the real facts, she knows just as much as me.

i.e., not very much.

Thursday, 11:30am, Bathroom

Well, nothing like a nice, long, hot power shower to relax your muscles after a tense morning of countless phone-ringing and pancake-eating.

I wonder where Michael's planning on taking me.

After all the sleep deprivation of late, I'd be happy with just a movie or whatever, but I doubt that's what we're going to be doing.

Anyway, whatever it is, it'll sure beat a day of mall-trekking with Lana and Tina. Not that I didn't enjoy their company yesterday; it's just that, you know, it wasn't so easy on the feet.

Still, at least I have a brand new outfit – and about ten more to spare – for today.

Thursday, 12:00am, Bedroom

Flats, or high heels?

Flats, I think. More summery. And I want to avoid the BFG (Big Friendly Giant) look.

Thursday, 12:30am, Limo on the way to Central Park Boathouse

Michael thought it'd be nice to come back here, seeing as last time we were here it was under very different circumstances.

Those circumstances being that I was practically engaged – well, promise ringed – to another guy, and ready to go all the way with said other guy on prom night whilst completely unaware that he may be using me for fame rather than actually loving me as he claimed to.

Oh how times have changed.

Anyway, he decided it would be nice to have a better memory of being together there, rather than the aforementioned one.

I have to say, I do much prefer going out with Michael than JP.

And not just because of the paparazzi thing either… or the fact that he smells way better.

We just have more fun. I mean, all JP used to talk about was his play, how much he loved me, the future, blah blah blah…

Just the complete opposite of how Michael and I are.

Plus, it is way hotter to be a robotic-surgical-arm-creator than a dumb play writer. No offence to JP or any other person who enjoys writing plays based on their girlfriend's lives, focusing on all the bad things she has done, and making him look like a hero for saying nothing more than that he'll marry her in the end. Oh, swoooon! Not.

Really, I'd rather watch Dirty Dancing any day.

Thursday, 1:30am, Central Park Boathouse Bathroom

I can't believe it. I actually can't. Twice in a row. TWICE IN TWO DAYS. I really hope this isn't a taster of how my life is going to be.

So, it all started off fine – great actually. I hadn't realised how much I'd actually missed being around Michael until now, when I'd finally gotten him back.

Well, maybe I had, but I'd tried to hide it so as not to come off as the clingy girlfriend type.

"So, we haven't got a chance to really, uh, talk since I got back," I started to say, thinking this was the polite way to start a conversation. I mean, I'd been back, what, two days? And practically all I'd said to him was, 'Hey, hand me that box.'

I didn't even know what he'd been doing all the while I was in college, really. I mean, sure, he travelled a bit for surgical arm stuff, but when he went into details about that I kind of switched off a little.

Well you can't blame me. I was a little out of my depth talking to a scientifical genius and all.

"Uh, Mia, what do you mean we haven't had a chance to talk?" Michael said, "You do nothing but talk!"

This is possibly true.

"Well, yeah," I said, "But I just talk rubbish about everything I've done. Shouldn't we talk about you? It's only fair,"

Michael just laughed, and replied "Something tells me you wouldn't much enjoy listening to me telling you the many tales of robotical-arm related uh, fun."

"Hey!" I said, "Just because I'm not as smart as you doesn't mean I don't want to know about stuff like that!"

Well, okay, it kind of does, but I can't let him think that.

So, I simply listened and took in – fine. Pretended to take in - every single word he said.

But, ugh, really, couldn't he be something a little more exciting? Like, I don't know, an astronaut?

Then again, I'm not sure how I'd feel about Michael going into space…

I wonder if they let you take souvenhirs from there? I mean, it's not like they'd miss a tiny piece of the moon or anything. Just a tiny bit, to put on a necklace or something.

And how cool would that be to tell people? Like:

Person: Hey, I like your necklace.

Me: Oh, thanks.

Person (Most likely Lana – who else would care?): Where'd you get it?

Me: The Moon.

Lana: What are you on, geek? You can't get necklaces from the MOON.

Me: Uh, yeah, Michael got it for me.

Lana: Right. And I slept with George Clooney.

Me:…It really wouldn't surprise me.

Sometime during this epiphany (if you can call it that, which I doubt you can) Michael had asked me something.

Of course, since I'd been listening so, uh, closely to the conversation, I hadn't the faintest idea that I was meant to be speaking.

Michael actually had to click his fingers in front of my face a couple of times for me to come back to earth; this was actually very embarrassing.

I wiped under my chin, too, just in case.

"Uh, could you repeat the question?" I asked, blinking and trying to fake like I'd been listening the whole time. Which, you know, is quite hard to do whilst also trying to figure out what the heck you'd been talking about beforehand anyway.

Michael just shook his head, laughed, and said, "Case in point."

Whatever.

Our food came then, and he was too distracted by whatever it was on his plate to carry on with that conversation.

I decided to change topic anyway.

"Do you remember the last time we came here?" I asked.

"Yes. Although I much preferred the carriage ride afterwards." He said.

I blushed. Even though I don't like J.P at all anymore, I still think it was sort of wrong of me to do that.

Oh well, what he did to me was way worse anyway.

"Me too." I said, "But I was just thinking about how much things have changed since then. I still didn't have a clue where I was going to college… I still didn't have a clue I was going to end up back with you."

"You were still engaged-" I glared at him, "Sorry, 'promised' to another guy. A stupid guy."

"Right." I said, "And yet here we are, just like old times. Kind of." The only difference being the fact that I am a published author and he is a robotic arm creator and founder of Pavlov Surgical.

But you know, other than that, just the same old Michael and Mia.

"Well-" Michael started, but he was interrupted by a shouting coming from the river.

Yes, the river.

I knew it was them even before I looked.

Sitting in a stupid rowing boat was Lana and Tina – although they were in danger of ending up in the lake, if how much they were waving their arms about and wobbling the boat was anything to go by.

I am seriously in need of some new friends. Is it really that hard to find normal ones?

"GEEK!" Lana screeched, "IF YOU DON'T GET OUT HERE NOW, I SWEAR I'LL COME IN AND GET YOU! MY EXTENSIONS ARE GETTING WET!"

Apparently so.

Anyway, there is no way on earth I am going out there to be shopped to death like yesterday.

So, I'm back in here hiding again. Michael's on lookout.

…Wait a second.

I can hear something. Sounds kind of like a foghorn.

"POOOOOGGGG!" What is it?

It's getting closer.

It's right outside the door. Hey, I know those shoes…

It isn't…

"POG!"

It is!

Thursday, 5:00pm, Limo on the way home from Lilly and Kenneth's (!) Apartment

So, I may not have been dragged around the mall all afternoon like yesterday, but I was instead dragged back to Lilly's apartment.

Well, hers and Kenneth's.

Which, is you ask me, is even more repulsive than living with Boris.

But, they seem happy enough (whatever) so I guess I'll just have to suck it up.

And try not to gag.

I think I managed pretty well, if I may say so myself.

Thankfully, Lilly let me in turn drag Michael with us, so I was partially happy about that. Of course, as soon as we walked in the door, he was dragged off by Kenneth to be shown… uh, some thing – I sort of tuned out for the explanation – and so I was left Michael-less, and vulnerable.

Well, apart from the six foot two bodyguard by my side, but you know.

I'm half sure Lilly could take him anyway.

It wasn't all that bad, actually. I mean, I'd hardly seen her the whole time we'd been at college, her being all into it, and studying and not wanting to go out and miss some dumb lecture or class or whatever. That's Lilly for you.

Plus, she's been busy with Lilly Tells It Like It Is, which I hear is even more popular of late.

Anyway, I'd totally missed her, especially seeing as we'd pretty much gotten back to being best friends again – although a little differently then the first time – after that whole reunion thing during prom.

So, we spent a lot of time just talking about everything that had gone on.

Which, no surprise, a lot more had gone on for her than me.

Turns out Lilly Tells It Like It Is had gotten like the Korean version of an emmy, or something, so she'd had to go and uh, collect that.

Also, seeing as she ended up interviewing this Korean singer person, who, since, has become some kind of nationwide superstar, and Lilly is the only one to have interviewed her, well, that got a reaction.

A big reaction.

Turns out Lilly was invited to the same office that hired Beverly Bellereive (remember her? The one that I spilled my guts to about Rocky and pretty much everything else I could have? Well, the very same) for a kind of trial.

And, Lilly being Lilly, she passed with flying colors.

There was just one small problem, apparently, that they found it a little hard to overlook.

"I mean, I guess I get the whole 'no piercing' look. I have to appeal to a younger audience too. But can you believe it?" Lilly had said, "Seriously! And I quote, 'The nose could prove a problem'. Like I wasn't even in the room! And what's that even supposed to mean, anyway?"

That you have a nose that faintly – oh, who am I kidding. If you had a pet pug the phrase 'dogs look like their owners' would never have been more appropriate – resembles that of a pug dog.

"There's nothing wrong with my nose, is there?" Lilly asked, "Mia, what's wrong with my nose?"

To lie or not to lie?

Well, having barely gotten through the mess – and countless therapy sessions - all my lies got me into last time, I chose the second.

What a big mistake that turned out to be.

"Well, I mean…" I'd started, still sort of unsure.

I've probably said it before, but Lilly can be pretty intimidating when she wants to be.

"Mia." She came right up close to me, and I flinched away a little, "Is there a problem with my nose?"

"I wouldn't say… problem," I stuttered, "It can appear a little on the… squashed side."

"What do you mean 'squashed'?" Lilly said. Well, demanded would be a little more appropriate a word.

"Well, it's just, you know, sort of small, and a little wider than usual. And from a certain angle it can look as though the tip is sort of pointed up-" I said, but was interrupted.

Really. She asks me a question and then doesn't shut up long enough for me to answer properly. What does she want from me?

"WHAT?" Lilly practically shrieked. "Mia!"

"Yes?" I said.

"Are you saying I need a nose job?" she asked, still only centimetres from my face.

I don't know whether it was my imagination or not, but I think she was actually snarling slightly.

You notice these things when you're that close to people.

"If you want to then, sure, I wouldn't stop you. You could always say that it was because you had breathing issues. If that excuse is good enough for Ashley Tisdale, it's good enough for you." I said.

And then, without any warning – well, other than the fact that Lilly picked one up off of the couch we were sitting on – a cushion came hurtling towards me.

And hit me. Right in the face.

All because I was the thoughtful friend that I am, and instead of lying – probably to make her feel better, but lying all the same – I told her my honest opinion.

Three years of therapy and that's what I learn. To not lie to people.

And this is my reward?

Getting hit with a cushion? And not very softly, either?

"Ow!" I cried, with good reason. The corner got me right in the eye; I probably had mascara streaks all down my face with all the watering it was doing, "What did you do that for?"

"You just told me I needed a nose job!" Lilly yelled.

"You asked me for my opinion and I gave it to you!" I said.

"Why can't you do what friends are supposed to do? You know, like 'Oh, it's okay Lilly, those idiotic, big shot producers don't know what they're talking about. The absolute absurdity of what they said about your nose shocks, and saddens me, to my very core. You'll get another chance, you're a spectacular interviewer, and plus, who wants to work for their IDOL'S company? Come here, my incomparable friend, here's a tissue; whoever wouldn't want to hire you is so eminently moronic that it is in fact laughable.'" Lilly said.

Uh, maybe because I'm not a butt-kissing lesbian who happens to be the one person in the world – other than Grandmere – that speaks like that?

Lilly didn't much appreciate me pointing this out though, resulting in her lobbing another cushion at me.

I ducked this time though.

So, instead of hitting the intended target – me – it ended up hitting a different obstacle that just happened to walk into the room at that time.

Michael.

"Hey!" he said, as the cushion hit him full in the face. I have to hand it to her, Lilly has great aim. Even when her throw goes wrong, it always ends up with someone getting hit in the face. "What was that for?"

Lilly just snorted and hurried to the bathroom (I bet to go look at her nose. Who knew she was so vain?), shouting after her, "Sorry, I was aiming for your girlfriend!"

He looked at me with an eyebrow raised but I just shrugged. Michael himself should know what his own sister is like.

"Kenny finished showing you his, uh…" I asked.

Well, if it had been Kenny – oops, Kenneth – explaining it, you would have forgotten, too.

"Yep. Kid's pretty smart, but he's got a long way to go before finding a cure for cancer." Michael said.

"Mm." I said. "Well, if the coast is clear, we may be able to sneak away…"

Michael laughed, quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me off of the sofa, and away we went.

And now, seeing as our day together hadn't exactly gone as planned, he had offered to take me out to dinner instead.

Which is a very nice offer.

Except that, just now, when I asked why he'd decided to enter the room just as Lilly and I had been sort of fighting, he said "I think we both know who would win in a fight between you two. I figured I'd help you out."

"I did not need your help! I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles." I said.

"Right." Michael said.

"You think you know me so well, don't you?" I said.

"Uh, yeah, because I do." He said.

"No you don't," I said.

"Mia, I've known you since you were about four." He said.

"So?" I said.

"See, I knew you were going to say that." He said.

"Whatever." I scowled, not wanting to lose the battle. Stupid, clever, hot Michael.

"I knew you were going to say that, too." He said.

"Shut up."

"And that."

"FAT LOUIE! Ha, bet you didn't think I was going to say that!"

"I did, actually."

I guess I'll just have to find a different way to shut him up.

We'll see if he's still saying that when he finds his lips otherwise occupied.

Thursday, 10:00pm, Our apartment

Best. Date. Ever.

Friday, 4:00am, Michael's bed

Sorry the last entry was a little on the brief side.

I figured it didn't need much more explanation.

Well, that, and Michael sort of distracted me.

Did I say how great it is living together?

It's great living together.

I may even be able to overlook the snoring – which isn't, thankfully, as bad tonight.

But only because I love him.

And apparently, I take so long in the bathroom – only because I write in here, which he totally knows anyway – that it makes us even.

Whatever.

AN; Done! Finally!

Sorry it took so long. I seriously suck at writing what Michael, and Lilly say. I hope I got their characters right!

Anonymous Review responses

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Love Ellenn

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