Leila: You’ll get another glimpse into what Max’s life is like in this part. I’m glad you like this characterization of Liz. I wasn’t sure you would. Be warned, though: Sometimes you might not like her.
Jan: Max is very confusing because he’s such a devious, manipulative person. He thinks about things differently than most other people would. His mind works in sicker ways.
Alison: Well, if you’re interested in the Kyle/Tess stuff in this fic, then I think you’ll be happy to know that I’ve got a lot of stuff planned for them. (And you’re totally bringing comeuppance back! One of my English professors said that word yesterday. No joke. Weird!)
spacegirl23: If you think Max is annoyingly hot, then you feel the same way about him that Liz does in this.
Christina: I’m glad you and others are actually liking Liz’s character in this. I thought no one would. What’s interesting about her is that nobody in the fic really knows what kind of person she is . . . except Max. He knows she’s not the nice girl most people think she is. And you’re totally right that Maria won’t give up on her painting idea, even though what Michael said hurt her. She’s very determined, and it seems like anytime she wants Michael to do something, he gives in and does it. So whipped already.
killjoy: I promise that you’ll still like where this heads with K/T. The last part was a bit of a setback, but it’s easily fixed.
Mercedes: What exactly happened between Michael and Isabel? Hmm, I can’t tell you yet. All I’ll say is that it was something that hurt Michael badly (obviously), and now he’s keeping it all bottled up inside. Poor guy.
Thanks for the wonderful feedback! I really appreciate it!
Part 11
Maria was so upset when she woke up the next morning. She walked by Michael in the hallway, and he said good morning to her, but she didn’t say anything to him. He didn’t want to paint her? Well, that was his loss.
She sat down at the counter with a bowl of cereal in front of her and began to eat her breakfast. She saw Michael slip into the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and a minute later, she heard the water start to run. She shoved another spoonful of Frosted Flakes into her mouth when an idea occurred to her, a much better idea than that stupid Michael-painting-her idea.
She hopped down of the stool, abandoned her cereal bowl, and walked around the counter to turn on the kitchen sink. She turned the handle all the way to the right so that only hot water would come out. Then, with a mischievous smile in place on her face, she slinked towards the bathroom. She opened the door quietly and stole a glance at the bathtub/shower. Michael had the curtain pulled. He couldn’t see her. So she wasted no time turning on the sink, turning that knob all the way to the right as well. He didn’t seem to hear her or the additional running water, because he didn’t pull the curtain back or say anything. She slipped out just as quietly as she had slipped in and shut the door. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall, right next to the bathroom door. She waited a few minutes, and then she heard a delightful sound.
“Shit, this is cold!”
She laughed at her prank and listened as the shower water quit running. She heard Michael climb out of the bathtub, almost slip on the tile floor, and turn off the sink. He threw open the door, and stopped when he saw her. He was only wearing a towel, but for once, he didn’t seem embarrassed. He just glared at her, apparently not amused. “Funny,” he remarked sarcastically.
“I thought it was.” She was pissed, and she had wanted him to know it. Now he knew. “You’re in hot water,” she said.
“No, actually, I’m in cold water, thanks to you.”
She shrugged and headed back out into the kitchen to finish her breakfast. “That’s what you get for rejecting me as your artistic muse.” She really hadn’t expected him to do that, and she still didn’t understand why he had. All she knew was that she was pissed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I mean, can you believe that? What kind of guy in his right mind says, ‘Gee, Maria, I’d rather not paint your picture.’” Maria huffed as she spilled all her frustrations out into the open for Liz to hear before their English Composition class began that day. “He should’ve felt honored at the mere suggestion. I’m just as gorgeous as Isabel. Even more so because, unlike her, I have a vivacious personality.”
“Vivacious?” Liz echoed, seemingly impressed with Maria’s choice of adjective.
“Yeah. I’m a spunky vixen. I can’t believe Michael doesn’t wanna paint me.”
“Why do you think that is?” Liz asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not good at getting into Michael’s brain. There’s a lot going on there. God, I swear, he is so strange sometimes. Like when I was trying to set him up with you at the Halloween party, remember?”
Liz nodded.
“Yeah. And he didn’t even try to go along with it. I mean, what’s his problem? You’re a right good catch.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure,” Liz mumbled.
“Doesn’t he realize he would’ve been lucky to get lucky with you, even luckier to date you? He would’ve been a whole freakin’ lot of lucky to paint my picture, but no, he doesn’t even care to give it a try.”
“Yeah,” Liz said. “He sounds very stubborn.”
“He can be.” Maria growled and shook her head. “Whatever. I don’t even care anymore. What about you? You look like you need to rant about something.”
“Oh.” Liz looked down at her lap and shook her head. “Exactly the opposite, actually. I don’t wanna talk about my life. Any of it.”
“You sure?” Maria urged.
“Yeah, it’s pretty topsy-turvy lately. Like the other day . . .” She trailed off and shook her head.
“Like the other day what?” Maria wanted to know.
“Well, I guess it’s not really a very big deal, but I kind of . . . kissed Kyle.”
“Kissed—you kissed Kyle?” She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. The thought of geeky Kyle kissing anyone was hilarious. “As in ex-boyfriend Kyle. You kissed him?”
“Yeah.” Liz smiled a little and shook her head. “Don’t ask me why.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story. It’s just . . . it was a spontaneous, bad decision. So bad. I probably gave him all sorts of false hope.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t think Kyle has those kinds of feelings for you anymore,” Maria assured her friend. “He’s too busy crushing on . . .” She quickly stopped herself before she spilled Kyle’s obvious secret. “Never mind.”
Now it was Liz’s turn to prod. “Who?”
“I don’t know if I should tell you.”
Liz shrugged. “It’s not like I’m gonna care.”
Maria sighed, thought it over for a moment, and decided there was no harm in it. Liz wasn’t the type to gossip, and she and Tess didn’t hang out in the same circles. There was no reason not to tell her. “Kyle’s got it bad for Tess,” she said quietly so that no one else in the classroom would hear. “You know, my old roommate?”
“What?” Liz shrieked.
Maria was taken aback by that passionate response. “Apparently you do care.”
“Oh, no, it’s just . . . it’s interesting; that’s all,” Liz sputtered. “Kyle likes Tess. Kyle . . . likes Tess. Tess . . . has a boyfriend.”
“A loser boyfriend,” Maria grunted. “Seriously, I don’t know why anybody would ever wanna be with a guy like Max Evans. He’s scum. He’s worse than scum.”
“Oh.” Liz looked away. “Is he?”
“Yeah. Anyone who dates him has to be deaf, dumb, and blind. It’s not like there’s any perks to being with him, except for money. But the sex isn’t great. Not that I would know or anything. It’s just that I heard things, him and Tess, the late nights, all the male pleasure sounds and no female pleasure sounds to go along with it. He’s probably a loser in the sack.”
“Actually . . .” Liz waited a moment. “That’s probably true.”
“I swear, Tess would be so much better off with a guy like Kyle, but it’ll never happen. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s just like you and me. She can’t make it work with nice guys. Kyle doesn’t stand a chance.”
“You’re right; he doesn’t,” Liz agreed. “Listen, I have to go.” Liz suddenly grabbed her backpack and stood up.
“Wait, where are you going? Class hasn’t even started yet,” Maria said, not wanting to be left alone for a full fifty minutes with a creepy professor and a bunch of over-zealous English majors. Liz was her lifeline in this class, just like macroeconomics.
“Yeah, I know,” Liz said as she headed for the door, “but I’m thinking about dropping it.”
No! Maria thought. She didn’t want that to happen.
“I’ll see you later,” Liz said, waving as she left the classroom.
Maria grunted and shook her head in disbelief. Why were her friends being so exasperating today?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tess was busy painting her fingernails pink before it was time to go to her 12:30 class when there was a knock on the door. She set her nail polish down and went to answer it excitedly. “Max? Are you already done with class today?” When she pulled open the door, she came face to face with someone who most definitely wasn’t her boyfriend. “Oh. Liz.” What the hell is she doing here? she wondered. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Liz echoed.
They stood in awkward silence for a minute, and finally Tess said, “Maria isn’t here.”
“Oh, no, I’m here to see you,” Liz explained. “You know, I gave it some thought, and I came to realize . . . Lynn, the girl I referred you to . . . she is really, really good, but she’s got a lot on her plate right now. And my plate’s kinda empty. So if you still want to . . . be on my plate, there’s room. If you still want to.”
Tess stared at the brunette in confusion. “You’re offering to tutor me?”
“Yes.” Liz smiled. “I think we could really get something accomplished.”
“Like me passing biology?” Tess liked the sound of that. “I’m in.”
“Great,” Liz chirped. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Well, do you want my cell or email so we can schedule tutoring time, or--”
“Just drop by the tutoring center tomorrow. I should be there all afternoon,” Liz said. “We’ll exchange contact info and set up meeting times then.”
“Okay,” Tess said, surprised by this new development. She had been one-hundred percent prepared to hate Liz until now.
“Okay,” Liz said. “I’m feeling good about this.”
She sounded . . . incredibly positive. “Me, too,” Tess agreed, trying to figure this girl out. When she’d spoken to her yesterday, Liz had seemed . . . impatient and angry. Now she seemed almost way too chipper.
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Liz said, heading down the hallway.
“See you.” Tess closed the door and muttered to herself, “She is so weird.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Michael got back from class that afternoon and found Maria sitting on the couch watching TV and reading a magazine simultaneously, he felt relieved. He really needed to talk to her. “Oh, good, you’re home.” He slung his backpack down by the door and went to join her on the couch. He leaned over to see what she was reading and made a face. “Is that Playgirl?” Had to be. There were pictures of naked men.
She completely ignored him and turned the page.
He looked away, not wanting to see any of the . . . spreads in that magazine. “What, are you not talking to me now or something?”
She still didn’t say anything.
He rolled his eyes, supposing he should have seen this coming. “Great, the silent treatment. That’s real mature.” He picked up the remote control from the coffee table and turned the TV off, thinking that might provoke some kind of vocal response. But instead, she just yanked the remote control from his hands and turned the TV back on wordlessly.
“You’re gonna have to say something eventually,” he said. “We live together. We see each other every day.”
“No, I don’t have to say anything ever!” she snapped, immediately realizing she had broken her silence. “Oh . . . curses.”
He laughed a little, glad that she had already given in. A Maria DeLuca who didn’t talk was like a cop who didn’t eat doughnuts. It was just so wrong in so many ways.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked. “There’s nothing funny about this.”
“About what?”
“This.” She looked annoyed, and much to his surprise she voluntarily tossed her perverted magazine aside and turned off the TV. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from him, pouting.
“You’re pissed,” he stated the obvious. “You’re funny when you’re pissed. That’s why I laughed.”
“No, I’m bad news when I’m pissed; that’s what I am,” she assured him.
“I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me.”
“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a selfish person. And the one time I try to do something selfless, try to do someone a favor, it gets thrown back in my face.”
She’s not joking, he realized. She was serious about this, seriously upset. He’d really hurt her feelings. That in enough itself was incredible considering the fact that Maria rarely ever admitted to feeling anything at all.
“Maria, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to do that. That wasn’t my intention. I know you just wanna help me, and I’m grateful for that. But when I said I can’t paint a picture of you . . . I meant it.”
“You said you don’t want to,” she corrected. “Which, personally, I don’t understand. I’m just as hot as Isabel. And so what if she has bigger boobs than me? When it comes to legs . . .”
“Maria, I have my reasons, okay?”
“I know; I talked to Kyle. He told me all about your artwork’s evolution . . . and the screeching halt it’s come to lately.”
“Screeching halt?” he echoed in horror. “That’s overstating it, don’t you think?”
“No, not really. I thought your midterm painting was good, Michael; but then I looked at those paintings of Isabel, and they’re so good. And I just thought I could help you out because . . . I’m pretty, and I’m your friend. And I felt so good about myself after I finished that test yesterday, and I only felt that way because you wanted me to feel that way. And I just wanted to return the favor and make you feel that way, too, but apparently it was a really stupid idea.”
“It wasn’t,” he assured her. He stared at her and realized for the first time how amazing it would be to paint her. She was beautiful and lively and . . . so damn annoying, but adorable at the same time. “Maria, the truth is, I would love to paint you,” he told her. “I think it would be fun and frustrating and probably really difficult because there’s a lot to you. I’m not sure if I could capture it all with a few brushstrokes, you know?”
She blushed a little, and there was even a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “That’s so true,” she agreed.
He laughed a little. “Maybe someday, alright? But not now. It’s not that I don’t wanna paint you, or even that I can’t. It’s that I’m . . . not ready.”
“Because of Isabel?”
“Because I haven’t painted anyone since Isabel.”
“You haven’t painted anyone but Isabel,” she pointed out.
“Exactly. So if I were to paint you, or anybody else . . .” He licked his lips, trying his best to explain what was stopping him. “It would mean that she and I are really over.”
She moved in closer to him and placed her hand atop his. “Michael. You and Isabel have been over for awhile now.”
She was right. He hated to admit it, but she was right. Isabel had left four months ago. She wasn’t coming back. It was really over. They were really over.
He felt pathetic.
“She’s a bitch, as far as I’m concerned,” Maria said simply.
“No, she was . . . well . . .” He wasn’t quite sure how to explain Isabel Evans anymore. At one time, glowing adjectives would have done the trick. Not anymore.
“You loved her?” she filled in.
He didn’t say anything in response to that, but he had. He had loved her. He just hadn’t known her very well.
“Look, I don’t know exactly why you guys ended,” Maria said, “but eventually you’re gonna have to move on. And when you do, I’ll be here.”
He raised his eyebrow inquisitively. What exactly was she implying?
As if reading his mind, she quickly added, “In a painting capacity. Not romantically, obviously.”
“Obviously.” He smiled a little. Yeah, Maria drove him crazy enough as his roommate. As his girlfriend . . . well, he’d probably lose his mind.
Apparently no longer mad at him, she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek, then rose to her feet, picked up her Playgirl magazine off the floor, and headed for the hallway.
“Maria,” he called, stopping her.
She spun around to look at him, and he came to a realization. Maria was offering him something Isabel never had: friendship. Support. It sounded crazy, because she wasn’t a giving person, but she wanted to give something to him, the chance to succeed. He wanted to succeed, even if that meant forgetting about Isabel.
“Don’t go out and get drunk tonight, okay?” he said with a newfound determination in his voice.
She gave him a confused look and asked, “What do you mean?”
He smiled and explained, “I’m painting a picture tomorrow, and I need my subject to be sober.”
Her eyes lit up with excitement, and her mouth stretched into a wide grin. She giggled and bounded towards him, throwing herself into his arms for a big bear-hug.
“Uh,” he groaned as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “There we go.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” For the first time since she had moved into Apartment 521, he was really glad to have her there.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max sat on the couch with his father, Phillip, the next day. They were discussing business, as usual, and papers and forms were strewn all about. Max couldn’t even see the coffee table anymore. It was just a mass of documents related to the Evans hotel chain.
“Even after you factor in Mason’s investment, I just don’t see how the New York chain can benefit from a golf course,” Phillip said. “I talked it over with my financial advisor. He agreed.”
“But tourists like to golf, even in New York City,” Max insisted. He wasn’t even technically an employee with his father’s company, but he got paid better than all of them combined, and he knew his father valued his opinion.
“Well, I’m not sold on it,” Phillip muttered.
“That’s okay. Once you die, I’ll build the golf course. Then we’ll see who’s right.” Max grinned and snickered as there was a knock on the door. “Excuse me.” He stood up and went to answer the door. “Liz,” he said, smiling as he stood face to face with his dark angel. “What an arousing surprising. It’s too bad you didn’t stop by earlier. We’re in the middle of something right now.”
“Save it, Max.” She grabbed his arm and literally yanked him out into the hallway. He shut the door, intrigued by her obvious anger towards him. Perhaps it would lead to fast and furious sex right out here in the hallway where anybody could see them? It wouldn’t be the first time they made this spot their own personal mating ground.
Much to his disappointment, she started talking. “I just wanted to let you know I’m gonna be tutoring Tess after all. And before you even conjure up fantasies of the two of us dressed as schoolgirls giving you head at the same time, know that I’m not falling into your little scheme. If you wanted to see fireworks, don’t hold your breath, because all you’re gonna see is generosity. I’m helping your girlfriend out of the goodness of my heart.”
He grunted, fighting to suppress a laugh upon hearing that rehearsed speech. “What goodness?”
She glared at him and shook her head. “You’re one to talk. You’re amazingly over-confident and arrogant Max. What makes you so sure I won’t tell Tess everything I know?”
“And what do you know?” he asked in response.
“That you’re completely infatuated with me.”
He grinned and leaned in closer to her. It took everything he had not to bend her over and just do her right there. “You won’t do that,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know you. Like it or not, Miss Parker, I know you better than anyone else. I know that, if you’re not doing something just a little bit wrong, you don’t feel right. That’s why you never could’ve made it work with your old boyfriend. That’s why that kiss you so conveniently had me witness was only a pathetic attempt at making me jealous.”
A flicker of delight flared through her eyes, and she asked, “Did it work?”
He pursed his lips together, refusing to answer, and leaned back against the door to his suite crossing his arms over his chest.
She smiled mischievously, understanding his answer without actually hearing it, and turned her back on him to walk down the hallway. He stopped her just as she was about to turn the corner towards the elevator by saying, “I hadn’t thought of that schoolgirls fantasy until now.”
She shot him one more enticing look, then kept on walking.
Fuck, he thought. I’m gonna have to take a cold shower after my father leaves.
He slipped back inside and said, “Sorry about that, Dad. Where were we?”
“Golf course,” Phillip mumbled. “I’m reconsidering. Who was that?”
Max sat back down next to his father and replied, “A girl I fucked senseless last year while Tess and I were on hiatus. I’ve been running into her a lot lately. I’d kill to get inside her again.”
“She must be good,” Phillip remarked.
“She’s fascinating.”
“Do you love her?”
Max laughed. “She loves me.”
“And Tess?”
Well, that was the beauty of it, wasn’t it? “She loves me, too.”
Phillip smirked and nodded his head in approval. “That a boy.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As much as he would have liked to, Michael couldn’t deny his nerves when it came to painting Maria. He spent the majority of his Saturday morning trying to act nonchalant about it, because she seemed perfectly at ease. But inside, he was freaking out. He wasn’t even sure if he could paint her. Maybe he couldn’t really paint people. Maybe Isabel was just a fluke. Maybe it wasn’t the paintings that were so great, but the feelings behind the paintings. Maybe this whole idea was a mistake.
Maria seemed so excited about it, though. They ate breakfast together, and she talked all the way through her Frosted Flakes, saying that she’d never had her picture painted before, that, oddly enough, she was a virgin in this department. That part made him laugh a little, but he was still nervous. This whole thing, painting, artwork in general . . . it had a big element of symbolism. To him at least. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted this painting to be amazing or to be horrible.
“Maria, you almost ready?” he asked as he arranged pillows on the couch. They had opted for an indoor session. No way was he ready to paint this out in the open.
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” she called from the bathroom. She’d been in there for a good ten minutes ‘preparing.’ What the hell was she doing, putting on a mountain of lip gloss? She really didn’t need any. Her lips looked good no matter what.
He flattened out some of the pillows and draped Maria’s favorite blanket, a Santa Fe University blanket, over the back of the couch. He wanted it to look natural. All he wanted was a nice, natural painting, maybe Maria curled up on one side of the couch, running one hand through her hair, not even necessarily looking at him.
He stepped behind his canvas and was about to start mixing up some appropriate colors when there was a knock on his door. He groaned and went to answer it. “Kyle, I’m all out of milk. Just break down and go to the grocery store . . .” He trailed off when he opened the door and came face to face with two familiar figures: his parents. “Oh.”
“Hi, honey!” his mother Sylvia exclaimed. “Oh, come here!” She threw open her arms and enveloped him in a hug. For a little woman, she sure had a lot of strength when it came to hugging.
“Mom,” he choked out. “Can’t . . . breathe.”
“Oh, sorry.” She released him, and then it was his father’s turn. John Guerin wasn’t quite as big on the hugging, but his hugs resulted in a fair share of oxygen deprivation, too.
“It’s good to see you , son,” John said.
“Yeah, you guys, too.” Michael took a step back and asked, “What-what’re you guys doing here?” He hadn’t been expecting them at all.
“Well, we’re attending a production of King Lear at the Von Wright theater tonight. We thought we’d stop by and surprise you,” his father explained.
“Well, I’m surprised.”
“Are you really? We haven’t seen you since August,” his mother reminded him. “You know we get to missing you.”
“I know.”
“Can we come in?” his father inquired.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He felt like an idiot for keeping them out in the hallway as long as he had. He opened the door wider and allowed them entrance into his apartment. Luckily it was clean. He closed the door and said, “So, King Lear, huh? Sounds . . . interesting.” Actually, he thought it sounded incredibly boring, but then again, he’d never been as into Shakespeare as his parents were.
“It’s gotten good reviews,” John remarked.
His mother glanced into the living room and must have noticed his canvas set-up, because she glanced back to him and asked, “We’re not interrupting anything, are we? You look a little frazzled.”
“No, you’re fine. I was just gonna . . .” Before he could finish, Maria swooped out of the bathroom wearing a long, silky, black robe.
“Alright, Mr. Big Artist,” she said, twirling the robe’s ties around playfully. “I’m ready to do it!” All of a sudden, she tore open the robe and dropped it to the floor, revealing the fact that she was wearing . . . nothing! Nothing underneath!
“Ah!” his mother shrieked, shielding her eyes.
“Maria!” He didn’t even know what else to say.
“What?” she asked innocently.
John stared at her in awe and wonder. “Wow.”
“I don’t get it,” Maria said, finally seeming to notice the other two people in the living room. “Are we having an orgy?”
Michael rubbed his forehead, trying to prolong the inevitable headache, and said, “Maria, this is my mom Sylvia and my dad John.”
“Your parents?”
He nodded, embarrassed for her since she hadn’t the desire to be embarrassed for herself. “My parents.”
“Oh!” She quickly bent down to pick up her robe and get back into it. “No wonder they look so old. Sorry about that slight case of nudity.” She came forward to introduce herself and shake his parents’ hands. “I’m Maria. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about both of you. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me.”
Sylvia stared at her quizzically and said, “No, actually, we haven’t.”
Maria shot Michael an astonished look. “You mean you haven’t told them anything about me?”
“Was I supposed to?”
She huffed. “Oh, whatever. I’m Michael’s roommate. I’ve lived with him for about a month now.”
His mother seemed surprised. “His . . . his roommate?”
“And a friend,” Maria added. “A good friend.”
“A girlfriend?” John asked.
“No, a good friend,” she emphasized. “Yeah, I used to live with Tess Harding, my ex-BFF, who you might or might not know because she’s also a friend of Michael’s. But we stopped getting along, mainly because she’s dating this total loser, Max Evans. And yes, that is the same Max who is brother to one Isabel Evans, primo bitch who left your son in July.” She sighed. “Oh, it’s a tangled web we weave.”
Unsurprisingly, Sylvia said, “I’m confused. If you’re just Michael’s friend, what was that little strip-tease all about?”
“Oh, that wasn’t a strip-tease. That was simply removal of a garment. I could show you a strip-tease if you want. I could probably even teach you a few moves to keep your hubby here satisfied.”
“Please don’t,” Michael muttered, praying she wouldn’t find a way to make this even worse.
“Please do,” John piped up.
Michael made a face. “Oh, Dad . . .” He really did not want to have to extract his father out of Maria’s ass. That would just be . . . unpleasant to say the least.
“Jonathon!” his wife scolded. “She’s not even half your age.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Guerin,” Maria assured him readily. “I’m a very sexual person. I don’t blame you for being attracted to me.”
“Oh . . . kay. I’m gonna puke,” Michael informed them. “Mom, Dad, the reason why Maria was just naked . . . actually, I don’t even know why she was just naked.”
“Michael’s painting my picture today,” she explained. “It’s gonna be a nude.”
“It’s not gonna be a nude.”
“I want it to be a nude.”
“I don’t.” Crazy. She had to be crazy.
“Why not?” She smiled, teasing him. “Are you worried you’ll pitch a tent on the second brushstroke?”
“Oh my god.” Did she not realize that the very people who had conceived him and put diapers on him and driven him to kindergarten every day were standing right next to her?
“I’d be offended if you didn’t, Michael.”
“Maria, I really think you should just not say anything else, okay?” he suggested.
“Why not? Your dad seems to be enjoying the sound of my voice.”
Michael cast a glance at his father and noted the happy-go-luck on his face. “Hmm, yes,” John said, nodding.
“I’m starting to think we should’ve called first,” Sylvia said quietly.
“No, you’re fine,” Michael assured them again. “You know what? We’ll just postpone the painting, and the three of us can go out to lunch.” He was starting to think that his parents’ arrival was destined. He wasn’t meant to paint Maria’s picture.
“Well, aren’t you going to invite Maria?” his father asked.
He really hadn’t been planning on it. She wasn’t exactly making the best first impression so far.
“Yeah, aren’t you?” Maria joined in. “I made you go out to eat with my mom.”
“Actually, I’m fine with you staying here, okay?” he told her. “Fantastic. So, Country Buffet or . . .”
“Michael.” His mother gave him a pointed look. “That’s rather rude. We raised you to be a gentleman.”
“Oh, you raised him very well, Mrs. Guerin,” Maria assured her. “Much better than my mom raised me.”
“Oh, well . . .” Sylvia looked confused, clearly wondering whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Thank you?”
Maria smiled.
“Michael . . .” his father urged.
Michael sighed and gave in. He really didn’t want this. Maria was his friend, but he really didn’t think his parents were going to like her. They hadn’t liked Isabel. “Fine, Maria, come to lunch with us if you really want to,” he said.
“Oh, I do,” she replied. “I love getting to know people. I’m like a little social butterfly. Or sexual butterfly, actually. Usually when I ‘get to know’ people, it involves a little bedroom activity, you know what I mean?” She laughed and playfully punched Michael’s father in the arm. “Not this time! Sorry, Mr. Guerin.”
Michael forced himself to smile to keep form screaming and suggested, “Why don’t you just go get dressed?”
“Okay. It won’t take me too long. I’ll go commando.” She smiled and skipped into the bedroom.
“Wow,” John managed again.
Sylvia took that opportunity to state the painfully obvious. “She’s promiscuous.”
Michael nodded his head in agreement. “She’s a lot of things.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria, Michael, Sylvia, and John ended up at a fancy restaurant that afternoon, some French restaurant with a name Maria couldn’t even begin to pronounce. While they were waiting for their food, Sylvia got up to go to the bathroom, and Maria went with her. She really wanted Michael’s mom to get to know her and to like her. As for his dad . . . well, he already liked her. No problem there.
“So,” Sylvia said as she leaned in towards the mirror and reapplied her lipstick. “Are you a junior like Michael?”
“Yeah,” Maria answered as she examined her butt in the mirror. Was it getting bigger? Was that a good thing? “Technically, I think I’m still a sophomore,” she admitted. “I’m not very educationally-oriented. I’ve failed a few classes in my day. But, yeah, this is my third year here at the university, so I tell people I’m a junior.”
“Michael took summer classes one year,” Sylvia declared proudly. “I think he’ll have enough credits to be a senior at the end of this semester.”
“He’s really smart,” Maria remarked, leaning back against the sink counter.
“Well, he’s very driven,” Sylvia added. “Even when he was younger, I never had to force him to do his homework. He always did it willingly.”
Maria laughed a little, reflecting on how different she and Michael really were. “My mom never had to force me to sneak out of the house. I always did that willingly. And she never caught me. I’m so sly.”
“Is that a good thing?”
She shrugged. “Sure. I always had a lot of fun. I still do. Gets me into trouble sometimes, but at least I’m living life, you know?”
“I suppose that’s all that matters,” Sylvia reluctantly agreed. “Well, how did you and my son come to meet? You don’t seem anything alike.”
“We met freshman year in math class,” Maria informed her. “He helped me and Tess cheat and therefore pass. We’re forever indebted to him.”
“So, you must be pretty good friends, you and Michael,” Sylvia went on, obviously trying to sort some things out.
“Well, we’re a lot closer now that we’ve been living together.”
“It’s funny he’s never mentioned you.”
Maria shrugged. “I think I embarrass him sometimes. I’m really loud and out there. I don’t care what people think about me just as long as they do think about me.” She smirked.
“Hmm.” Sylvia seemed very skeptical of her. Maria was well aware that she might not be making the best impression, but she couldn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t. She just couldn’t.
“Should we get back out there?” Maria asked. “Our food might be here.”
“John and Michael are probably discussing politics. We’ll give them a minute,” Sylvia decided. “So, how exactly did this living arrangement with my son come about? I think I know him pretty well. He never expressed an interest in having a roommate. Well, unless you count Isabel, but she wasn’t really living with him. Was she? I don’t know.”
“Well, to be honest, I kinda just invited myself to live with him,” Maria confessed. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I actually don’t have a whole lot of other friends. Michael tried to get me to leave, but he’s a such a softie. He let me stay.”
“And are you helping him pay rent?”
“Well, I will be eventually. I just studied for the first time ever. Gotta make these changes in small increments, you know. Can’t take on too much at once.”
“Your first time ever?”
Maria laughed. “Now that is funny. It sounds like you’re talking about the loss of my virginity. God, that seems like a lifetime ago.”
Sylvia looked mortified. “What are you saying?”
“Well, I like sex. I have sex often. Because I like it. Do you see how we’ve come full circle here?”
“Oh, so you have a boyfriend.”
“No.”
Sylvia frowned. “No?”
“Well, I mean not usually.”
Sylvia cringed and said, “Oh, Maria, I’m worried I might be forming a stereotypical perception of you. Please tell me I’m wrong.”
“What, slutty party girl?” Maria shook her head. “You’re not wrong. But hey, at least I’m honest, right?”
Sylvia laughed nervously. “Right. I’m sorry, I have to be honest, too . . . I’m not sure if I can picture you and my son living together.”
“Well, obviously we won’t live together forever,” Maria said. She didn’t have a precise timeline or anything, but she figured she would move out sometime during the spring semester. “But for now it’s working out well. He lets my stuff occupy all the counter space in the bathroom. He buys me all the food I like to eat. He lets me hog all the covers.”
Now Sylvia looked genuinely alarmed. “You . . . the two of you are—you sleep together? In the same bed, I mean?”
“Yeah,” Maria didn’t see the big deal. “I mean, there’s only one bed to sleep in. Although, sometimes he sleeps on the couch, like the other night when we had this little non-lover’s spat. Or if I bring a guy home . . . obviously he doesn’t wanna be there for that. Or like Halloween; I was getting busy with this guy named Brad—so delectable. Anyway, we were getting really loud, and then my brother was in the bathroom getting it on with . . . god, what was his name? Jason? Justin?”
“His name?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you, Marty hooks up with more guys than I do. If he ever gets Michael drunk . . .” She laughed, “Well, Michael better watch out is all I’m saying. We’ve seen him naked, and Marty can’t get past it.”
Sylvia just stared at her in horror, mouth agape, eyes wide open. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Maria just smiled and shrugged. Did she have to say anything?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael and his father sat at the table, waiting for the food they had ordered and for the women who had abandoned them for the sake of the powder room. Michael wasn’t sure whether he wanted Maria to rejoin them or not. On the one hand, seeing his father literally salivate over her was a tad bit disturbing. On the other hand, hearing him swoon over her was just as bad. Lose/lose situation. Of course.
“Are they still in the bathroom?” he asked, craning his neck to peer back where both the bathrooms were.
“Apparently,” his father muttered. “You know how women are.”
Michael made a face. Maria was a woman? Since when? He’d always thought of her as just a wacky girl.
“Hey, so that Maria . . .” John grinned. “She’s really something, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed, afraid of where this was going.
“I mean, she’s really something.”
“Well, she’s clearly crazy.”
“I don’t think your mom likes her,” John went on. “I do.”
Michael’s sarcasm was evident when he said, “No, really?”
“Oh, yeah. If I wasn’t a married man . . .”
“If you weren’t fifty.”
“Did you see the way she looked naked? Now that . . . does she run around like that a lot?”
Michael thought about it and shrugged. “I don’t know. Not really. Sometimes. Why are we talking about Maria?”
“Because, she’s . . .”
“Really something, I know.” Michael sighed. “Look, she’s just a friend, and I’m letting her stay with me. That’s all.”
“I’d let her stay with me.” His father grinned again. “All night long.”
“Dad!” There was only so much he could take. His brain was becoming filled with so many horrible visuals, he was beginning to think he was scarred for life.
“What? I’m only human,” John said in defense of his perversion.
“Yeah, well, so is Maria. You know how many men look at her and think she’s just a piece of flesh?” It really bothered Michael when guys did that. It bothered him even more that Maria provoked them to do that, like she had last week when she and Tess had done that dancing up on his counter. He grunted and shook his head.
“And you’re telling me you’ve never looked at her that way?” his father said. “Isabel worked a number on you, didn’t she?”
“Dad . . .”
“Well, regardless of what Maria means to you, she must be good for you. Last time we saw you, you couldn’t even talk. You were so broken up.”
“Well, that was a month after Isabel left.” He’d barely even left the house that month.
“Yeah. You know, she was another good-lookin’ girl. How do you do it, son? Are these my genes at work? Can’t be. I never . . . no offense to your mother, but . . . you know, Maria’s got these legs. I bet they could wrap around a man twice. And Isabel . . . well, we both know what Isabel had. Any verdict on those, by the way? Are those real? Please tell me you found out.”
Michael rolled his eyes and reluctantly told his father what he wanted to know about his ex’s breasts. “They’re real.”
“I knew they were. Well, that’s good, ‘cause her personality always seemed a little fake to me. Maria, on the other hand . . . that girl’s as real as it gets!”
“Why-why’re you even comparing the two of them? Completely different circumstances. I’m not dating Maria.”
“Well, not yet.”
“What do you mean that?”
“You know what I mean.”
He actually laughed at the suggestion. “No, no way. Never gonna happen. We’re totally different people.” He’d always said that whole ‘opposites attract’ myth was just that, a myth.
“Boys, we’re back!” Maria’s voice rang out suddenly as she and Sylvia returned to the table. Sylvia had made sure to sit in between her husband and the new object of his affection, of course.
“I’m so glad,” John said, smiling a huge, dumb smile.
Maria smiled back at him, apparently enjoying the obviousness of his desire. “You didn’t have too much fun without us, did you?”
He laughed too loudly as though something were funny. “Oh, of course not.”
Michael held his head in his hands and closed his eyes. This was a nightmare. Everything about this was a nightmare. His mother didn’t even have to say anything to indicate that she didn’t like Maria at all, and his father liked her way too much. He would have rather been at work than at this lunch.
“Well, Maria just told me all about herself,” his mother remarked randomly. “All about herself.”
“Really?” Michael glanced at Maria, wondering just how much she had told. Modesty wasn’t something she valued by any means, and she just smiled at him.
“We were also discussing your upcoming birthday,” his mother went on. “It’ll be here before we know it. Your father and I still don’t know what to get you.”
“I suggested a prostitute,” Maria chirped.
“Oh, she’s amazing!” John exclaimed, almost falling backward out of his chair.
“A prostitute?” Michael echoed, confused as to how that was a present. Was the prostitute the wrapping, and the gift inside was a vast new array of STDs?
“Yeah, you so obviously need one,” Maria said. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing when you get up during the middle of Gossip Girl and go to the bathroom . . . for ten minutes.”
Damn, he thought, she caught onto me. “I have a shy bladder,” he denied.
“Not that shy.”
“I-I really can’t have this conversation.”
“Masturbation is perfectly normal, Michael,” Maria assured him. “You don’t have to feel ashamed.”
“That’s right,” John agreed readily.
“Oh, can someone please shoot me?” Michael grumbled in distress. He couldn’t believe that his own mother was having to listen about him jacking-off, and his dad . . . well, his dad’s subtle admission that he did as well wasn’t really surprising in the slightest. But it was still disturbing. He wasn’t even going to be able to eat his food when the waiter finally brought it out. His gag reflex had already been activated one too many times that day.
Sylvia cleared her throat and obviously fought to stay cordial as she said, “Maria, I’m not sure how they do things in your family, but you’re out to eat with the Guerin family now, and we don’t have these kinds of conversations at the dinner table. Or at all, actually.”
“Well, maybe we should,” was John’s response.
“Oh, John, don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m just saying, there’s a fine line between being inhibited and being imprisoned. Maybe we all just need to let loose a little.”
Maria smiled. “My thoughts exactly.”
Let loose? Michael thought. Maria had told him to do the same thing numerous time. And he had. A little. The Halloween party and . . . well, there was pretty much just the Halloween party. The thought of his dad loosening up, though . . . that would probably result in some sort of step-sibling, and as for his mom . . . well, she didn’t have it in her to do such a thing.
“Oh, here comes our food,” Sylvia said, sounding nervous. “Let’s eat.”
“If you got a prostitute for your birthday, you’d have something very tasty to eat,” Maria said to Michael.
“Oh god,” he muttered. “It never ends.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Liz stayed at the tutoring center until closing that day, waiting for Tess. She was beginning to get worried that Tess had backed out, decided not to have a tutor. That wouldn’t be good. It would derail her entire plan.
Much to her relief, the buxom blonde walked in at 5:00, just as the tutoring center was about to close. “Hey,” she said, “sorry I’m late. I had an interior design club meeting today. It ran super late. But I’m here now.”
“I see that,” Liz said, noticing the unbuttoned buttons of Tess’s top. Something told her it wasn’t so much an interior design club meeting as a sex with Max meeting that had delayed her. The thought made Liz insanely jealous.
“Anyway, I brought my class schedule, and my work schedule,” Tess said, taking two sheets of paper out of a manila-colored folder. “I only intern twice a week for, like, three hours a day right now, so the work schedule isn’t that bad. I think it should be pretty easy to come up with a tutoring time.”
“Okay, I’ll look it over,” Liz said, taking the schedules from her, “and then I’ll get back to you, alright? Did you put your phone number on here?”
“Phone and email,” Tess said proudly. “Liz, thanks again for this. It really means a lot to me that you’re willing to help me.”
“It’s my job,” Liz said simply. Really, she didn’t care if Tess passed biology or not. She only cared that Tess eventually dumped Max, freeing him up for someone who could really handle him.
“Yeah, but it’s really generous of you,” Tess said, “of all the tutors, actually, to give of yourselves, your free time and your big brains and your . . .” She trailed off and reached into her pocket when her phone vibrated. “Oh, just a minute.” She flipped it open and read a text message, then laughed lightly to herself. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Liz asked. If Max had sent her something, she wanted to know.
Tess laughed again. “You know Michael, right? Michael Guerin.”
“Danced with him on Halloween.”
“Yeah, well, he just sent me a text message. ‘My parents are in town, Dad wants to make babies with Maria.’”
“Maria’s meeting his parents?”
“Apparently. God, that can’t be good. The day Maria makes a good impression on anyone’s parents is the day I throw away my black Chanel sunglasses. Not gonna happen.”
Liz forced herself to smile, holding back bitterness upon learning that this girl had enough money to buy and wear Chanel sunglasses. Bitch. It was probably Max’s money. That made it even worse.
“Michael’s parents are kinda conservative, too,” Tess went on as she texted a reply back to Michael.
“Like Maria’s mom?” Liz asked. She had met Amy DeLuca once before, and she’d made a good impression, of course. Then again, she made a good impression on everyone. They all thought she was sweet and at least relatively innocent. Suckers.
“Maria’s mom’s just blind to life,” Tess said. “Michael’s parents . . . I don’t know, I’ve never met them, but if they’re anything like Michael, I’d say they’re not very big on wild, risky behavior. But apparently his dad wants to bone Maria, so . . .” Tess shrugged. “Who knows? Parents can be so weird.”
“Yeah,” Liz agreed, even though she’d always thought of her own parents as perfectly normal. All of a sudden, she saw an opportunity to inject Kyle into the conversation, so she seized it. “You know, my ex-boyfriend’s dad is really great. He’s the Sheriff of Roswell, so you’d expect him to be all gruff and mean, but he’s actually really nice.”
“Who’s your boyfriend?” Tess asked.
“Ex-boyfriend,” Liz made sure to clarify. “Kyle Valenti. You know him?”
“Kyle Valenti.” Tess smiled. “Yeah, actually, I think I do. I saw you kissing him the other day. You two looked pretty hot and heavy. Are you sure he’s just an ex?”
“Oh . . .” Crap, Liz thought. She had forgotten that Tess had probably seen that, too. She had to set the record straight. “No, that was just . . . a way of saying hello is what that was. But he and I have been over for awhile now. In fact, I don’t think he’s seeing anyone, which is a shame. He’s a really great guy.”
“Seems nice, from what I can tell,” Tess remarked. “You should get back together with him. You’d make an adorable couple.”
“Uh . . .” Adorable wasn’t what Liz wanted. She wanted that fire and passion and . . . well, sometimes it bordered on hatred. She had all that with Max.
“Anyway, I’ve gotta go,” Tess said. “My boyfriend’s taking me out to dinner tonight.”
“Oh, that’s . . . great.” Liz hoped the disappointment on her face wasn’t too obvious. It wasn’t fair that Tess was with Max. She couldn’t possibly work with him. She was way too . . . simple.
“I’ll talk to you later, Liz,” Tess said as she left the tutoring center, toting her Chanel purse in hand. “See you.”
“Yeah,” Liz said before muttering under her breath the one word that described her entire state of mind: “Fuck.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael’s parents came back to his apartment and stayed there until it was time to go see their play. They told him they would find a hotel to stay at and that they would be back tomorrow morning to spend some more time on him. He could only pretend to be excited about that. He loved his parents dearly, but his whole weekend was pretty much shot now. He wouldn’t have time to paint or do any other homework before Monday.
“Uh, I just wanna go to sleep,” Michael groaned after he had shown his mother and father the door. He plopped down on the couch next to Maria (who, as always, seemed to have much more energy than him), and closed his eyes. “Wake me up next semester.”
“Oh, come on, today wasn’t that exhausting,” she said. “It was fun.”
He opened his eyes again and turned to give her an incredulous look. “Fun?”
“Yeah.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah, I like your parents.”
Michael laughed a little and said, “My dad sure likes you.”
“Well, he’s got good taste.” She smiled and scooted in closer to him. “No, seriously, he’s a laugh riot. And I can tell he’s just dying to let his hair down.”
“He’s going bald,” Michael pointed. Technically, the man didn’t have any hear to let down.
“Well, so to speak. He’s clearly only restraining himself ‘cause of your mom. No offense to her. I like her, too, even if she doesn’t like me. But she is majorly uptight. I bet she puts a ton of academic pressure on you.”
“Well, sometimes,” he admitted, shrugging. “It’s alright, though. I pressure myself.”
“At least she knows you and accepts you,” Maria went on. “When we were in the bathroom at the restaurant, I asked her if she thought you were a virgin, and she said she knows you aren’t but she doesn’t have a problem with it as long as you’re being safe. So much cooler than my mom.”
“Yeah, they’re good parents,” he agreed. He complained about them only sometimes, but compared to someone like Amy DeLuca, they were downright sane and a joy to be around. “I just wish they wouldn’t stop by unannounced like this. I didn’t even get a chance to . . .” He trailed off.
“What, prepare me? Coach me?” she filled in. “Trust me, it’s better this way. I just am who I am, and everyone learns to love me eventually. I guess Papa Guerin’s a quick study.” She grinned and licked her lips.
“Oh, don’t remind me,” he groaned dramatically.
“I take it as a compliment; my desirability spans generations.”
“Well, that’s one way to look at it.”
She tilted her head to the side and inquired, “What’s the other way?”
“Uh, he’s horny. He’s fifty and he’s horny and that’s gross.”
“Don’t you wanna be horny when you’re fifty?”
He hadn’t really thought about it. “I don’t know.”
“Of course you do. Think about it, Michael. You’re already halfway to forty.”
“So are you,” he noted.
“Not the point.”
“What is the point then?”
“That he’s an all-around cool guy, and you’ll be lucky to ever be half as cool as he is.”
He grunted and insisted, “I’m cool.”
She laughed out loud. “Yeah, right. Since when?”
“Since . . . alright, fine, my dad’s cooler,” he acquiesced. “Did you know he went to Woodstock when he was eleven?”
Her mouth gaped. “Get out. What, was he a hippie?”
“No, he just went to Woodstock.”
“For the sex?” she guessed.
“No.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“Rock ‘n’ roll?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Hmm.” She thought about it and mumbled, “I’d go for the sex.”
He chuckled lightly. “I’m sure you would.”
“God, Woodstock . . .” She sighed wistfully. “That’d be a blast.”
“Ah, a little crazy.” From what he knew, it wouldn’t have been his cup of tea.
“And hence a blast.”
Michael rested his head back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “He still gets tears in his eyes when he hears Jimi Hendrix’s rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner,” he remarked randomly.
“Sentimentalist, huh? Yeah, apparently my dad got tears in his eyes when he found out I was floating around my mom’s belly,” she replied. “And not happy tears. More, ‘oh, shit, I’d better get out of dodge’ tears.”
“He’s a jerk?” Michael concluded. He’d figured as much since Maria rarely ever talked about her father.
“Big-time. I’ve got an absentee dad and a blind-to-the-real-world mom. No wonder I’m such a piece of work, huh?”
He leaned in and spoke quietly when he told her, “I kind of like you that way.”
“Me, too,” she said. “Sometimes. Well, I’m gonna go take a shower.”
“I’m gonna go to bed,” he announced, rising from the couch. He headed down the hallway, yawning. “You gonna join me?”
“Later,” she replied. “I gotta do a little research first for a project.”
He scrunched up his forehead in confusion. “Project?” Maria was really getting into the swing of studying. Good for her.
“Yeah,” she said as she got up from the couch and slipped past him. “I’ll come steal the blankets from you later.” She smiled and slipped inside the bathroom, shutting the door.
He laughed inwardly and headed into the bedroom. He figured he’d better enjoy having the blankets all to himself for as long as he could, because whenever she settled in beside them, he always gave them up.
TBC . . .
-April
And yes, Maria tends to be wild in my college fics. It's probably because I like to live vicariously through her. 
For real, I love this song.
