PART 2


Maria didn’t resist or struggle, and it only took her a minute to respond. The moment his lips touched hers, she closed her eyes involuntarily and let herself lose control.


If she could think at that moment she would have realized that it was the first time in three years that she had let herself loose. But perhaps it was a good thing she couldn’t think, cause she sure would have tried to hide in her mental castle with no windows if she did.


He, on the other hand, was feeling things he never would have believed could be felt. There was a tingling sensation covering his body, from head to toe.


He felt her lips part with a low sigh and her breath burnt his lips. Then the thing he least expected happened, her tongue darted out and licked his lips. It sure was a day to screw up expectancies.


Her hands left his grasp. He wasn’t about to object even if he knew for sure that she was about to put a dagger in his heart. He was beyond caring. Her left hand reached up his chest to his neck and nestled there pulling him closer while her right hand found its way into his hair.


She tasted like strawberry and her hair smelled like wild flowers. Her long, wavy blond hair draped over his face tickling him. He tentatively raised one of his hands to caress her hair. He was sure that she would slap him again for this - well she would TRY again at least -.


He felt that her hair was important to her, sacred somehow, and he knew she wouldn’t let everyone touch it. He didn’t know how but he could feel it. While one of his hands placed itself on the small of her back, between her top and jeans, touching the soft skin without hesitation, his other hand took ages to reach her hair.


He felt her body stiffen against his. But he kept his fingers in her hair. He knew he was doing the right thing, he had no idea where those feelings came from, but he trusted them. Something he didn’t do often.


She had stopped kissing him by now and placed her cheek against his, enjoying the sparks his hand created in her hair.


She didn’t want to open her eyes. She knew if she did, reality would take over, and she would lose his warmth she felt deep inside. The worst part wasn’t the loss of it, but knowing the fact that she was going to be the one to throw it away. So she kept her eyes closed, hoping that the feeling would last for eternity, for it was her first and only since what seemed like forever.


She slowly raised her face, rubbing her skin against his. Electric currents ran through them everywhere they touched. Both her palms were placed on his temples by now, her finger buried in his hair. She was caressing his eyebrows with her thumbs.


She subconsciously knew that she should end it now or she would never be able to. But she couldn’t contain her gratitude inside and she sure wasn’t going to thank him when they parted, that was a given. So she placed a kiss between his right eye and temple and prepared herself mentally to fall back to Earth and get up.


She opened her eyes to find his curious gaze on herself. He was obviously waiting for her to react. She didn’t disappoint him.


She summoned all her anger to surface. When she decided she could trust her knees not to give away, she jumped up and tried to yell at him but her voice came out a whisper.


“What the hell was that?”


“What do you think it was?” he replied sarcastically.


His face was closed off; she had no idea what he was thinking. He appeared nonchalant, but there was no way a human could keep cool after a kiss like that.


She so wanted to snap at him about what happened, but she was planning to keep playing her game, ever the scariest get-your-ass-out-of-this-situation-in-one-piece game.


She had to change the subject according to the rules; otherwise her ass was his, literally. She knew too well that she was undeniably guilty in the situation. So she said, “Who the hell are you?” carefully hiding her curiosity with mock fury.


Now that they were back in the harsh realm that we call reality, he had all his shields up in full power. He realized what she was doing and was glad that she did it. Last thing he needed was a girl following him around, trying to hold his hand.


But he didn’t understand why she would do that. That wasn’t what girls did, they asked for romance and commitment and crap like that. She wasn’t supposed to pretend it never happened, it was his job. He made a mental note about her being weird and played his part.


“I live here.”


“Oh no you don’t. This is my house…”


“Yeah of course. How stupid of me!” He said, his voice full of sarcasm. He pulled out a single key from his pocket and held it up.


“That’s why I have a key and you’re picking the lock.”


Her cheeks blushed from her fury. He was so… so… so annoying!!! Everything about him was annoying. The teasing tone of his voice, the sexy smirk on his face, his way too tight t-shirt stretched over his muscles… “That should be illegal…” she protested silently, “S-hit I’m getting sidetracked!”


She started gathering her bags to avoid looking at him. She looked like a little girl trying to carry her mother’s bags.


Michael would have said she looked adorable struggling with those weird colourful bags, if he had the word in his vocabulary. He bit his tongue trying not to laugh and keep his cool.


“I’m guessing you’re Maria.” His voice was a little more civil now.


“Amy was expecting you next week.”


“Well, obviously I’m early!” She said, annoyed at him for not helping her, and secretly glad that he didn’t, because she had no idea how he would effect her when he was that close. If she kissed him again, there was no talking her way out of it this time.


She pushed him out of her way and headed upstairs to her room. He stood there, waiting for her.


He had known her for a total ten minutes, and he had the most contradicting feelings about her he ever had about anyone. She did the most expected and unexpected things. He didn’t even know what that meant.


“Thoughts”… he corrected himself “…not feelings, only thoughts.”


She came back and threw him a deadly glare. “Change it back. It’s my room!”


“No, princess, it was your room, was being the key word here. It’s been mine for five years now.”


She felt sad. She knew she had no right to expect for her mother to keep her room as it was. She had left her, hadn’t she? It had been her choice; so she had to bear the consequences. But reason didn’t help her feel better. She never was much of a reason person anyway; it was Liz’s specialty.


He saw her defeated look, and knew that it wasn’t because of their little quarrel. He knew Amy and Maria had some issues. Though he never talked to her about it -he wasn’t big on talking-, he was sure Amy loved her daughter and cared for her more than anything.


The house itself was like a Maria shrine and he knew all her childhood stories by heart from his dinners with Amy. Her pictures were all over the house; walls, tables… everywhere…


She was sad, that was for sure… He didn’t know what their problems were, but even if he did, there was nothing he could do to help. He wasn’t exactly the comforting kind of person. He wouldn’t know how to act or what to do.


Max was the sensitive guy; he was just the creepy guy in the shadows. So he did the two things he did the best. He annoyed her and fled the scene.


“Well it’s been a pleasure meeting you princess, but I really have better things to do.” He said walking towards the still open door with that annoyingly sexy smirk on his face again.


“I didn’t catch your name?” she asked, obviously angry.


“That’s cause I didn’t tell you…” he didn’t even look back. He was pushing all her buttons without any extra effort. You could almost say, he was made to push her buttons.


“Well then, Mr. Top Secret, I’ll just call you Bobo, it’s just the same to me.” She muttered in a playful tone… “You look like him anyway…” she added under her breath.


That got his attention. He turned around and said in an exasperated voice “Oh that’s mature. What are you, five? And who the hell is Bobo?”


“It’s the stuffed alien mom made for me when I was four. I still have it somewhere. You have the exact same hair.” She was desperately trying to piss him off and was armed and ready for the worst comeback. But she definitely wasn’t expecting his next actions, or lack thereof.


He had a look on his face for a moment, like she had stepped on his toes. Then he turned and left saying coldly “The name’s Michael. Use it.”


To say that he was confused would definitely be an understatement. He was caught totally unprepared, and waas cursing himself for showing his discomfort like that.


“What if it was the FBI, what if it was someone that suspected you? If you can’t act normal in front of a stupid girl, how will you do it when it’s an agent talking to you?”


He sent the disturbing thoughts away, and headed to the gas station where he had a shift in half an hour.


- - -


Maria put her bags in the guestroom; she was coming to terms with the fact that her room wasn’t hers anymore. She had a big, beautiful apartment in LA for god’s sake; she didn’t need a stupid room in Roswell!


Once she was settled, she decided to go to her mother’s store to get some answers about that Michael guy. Why would anyone want to rent that guy a room? He was creepy. He was the obvious delinquent type. “But that’s Amy we’re talking about.” she reminded herself… She was a delinquent herself once after all.


First she did some investigating. It was for her mother’s safety, she reasoned, not at all about her own insatiable curiosity.


“Let’s see who this spiky Bobo guy is…”


She opened her -well HIS- room’s door silently. The room was suspiciously tidy. The bed wasn’t made but she never once made her bed, so who was she to talk. The walls weren’t painted pink anymore like she had left them but were plain white.


It looked simple, too simple… He didn’t have much furniture, just the basics. There were two Metallica posters on the wall and she saw some CDs that were also all Metallica.


She kept looking around, carefully placing everything she touched back in their places. She couldn’t find any pictures but there were books. Not too many, but she realized that the ones he had were really good.


She wasn’t a big reader but she knew who James Joyce was. He had a really old and worn copy of Ulysses on the nightstand. It looked like he had been reading it everyday for the last ten years. She also found some books on stars and constellations scattered around.


She rummaged through his drawers. Nothing important, just some ordinary junk; pencils, some condoms, and for some weird reason Tabasco sauce bottles… She was losing her enthusiasm when she opened the last drawer.


There were some sketchbooks put neatly on top of each other. Some of them were really old, some were new. She saw charcoal pencils in one little box and single sketches put together in a folder. She took them out with amazement, and held them carefully like they were some kind of archaeological discovery.


- - -


She spent the next hour going through his sketches. All of them were good and half of them were truly enchanting. There were sketches of parks, trees, kids playing, people talking, laughing, working, eating... doing their normal, everyday things.


She was impressed. He drew ordinary life and made it look interesting somehow. He sure had a different way of seeing things. She found it beautiful. He caught the looks or expressions, she never spent one moment to catch in another person. He was a true observer.


She noticed the sun going down and realized the time she spent studying his drawings. She panicked. It would have really sucked if he found her going through his stuff. She put the papers away and left the room with confused thoughts and a new found respect for the spiky haired, weird guy living in her old room.


- - -


Amy came home from work to find her daughter sleeping on the couch. She looked peaceful while she slept. Amy just stood there and watched her sleep…


She remembered the old days when they sat together on that same couch every night, talking. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she couldn’t wipe them. Her daughter was home. Finally. Her baby girl was home…


As she watched her, she saw a tattoo on her right wrist. She moved closer to see what it was. It was her initials. It made her cry more.


There was nothing sad about having your initials tattooed on your wrist. But she had no idea when she had gotten that tattoo. Or why she had decided to grow her hair out. Or how she had become a wedding planner. Or what she did the first thing in the morning…


She regretted the time she had lost so terribly, a huge knot formed in her stomach. She didn’t know the woman her daughter grew to be.


This was her second chance. No way in hell she was going to screw this one up. She would get to know her better and make her smile that genuine smile she only had for her mom. And most importantly she would make her belong again. She wanted Maria in her life and home, and she wasn’t giving up easily this time.

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