“Do you even know how?” Maria grinned, a playful taunt in her voice.

“No, but you can teach me.”

“But you don’t have a stereo . . .” Even with a job at Pizza Palace after school and on weekends, it would be a while before Michael could save up enough to fill his tiny apartment with more than the bare essentials.

“No problem.” Michael reached over for a CD he found in Maria’s portable player, and used his powers to make it play. It glowed a neon blue and her eyes widened - she was still learning what these alien powers were capable of.

“Isabel taught me” he explained, and with a small laugh, added “but at no small price. I must’ve fried at least a dozen of her CDs. She was mad but she never gave up on me.”

Once, Maria had envied the closeness he shared with Max and Isabel, but on that dark and stormy night, when he left his foster father’s house, he had come to her. And despite her mother’s worst fears, all they did then was sleep. But in those few hours, without a single word exchanged, a close communion had engulfed them; and Maria knew then that her relationship - her life - with Michael Guerin would never be the same again.

And tonight . . . well, tonight he had asked her to dance. No one ever said Michael was predictable.

“So teach me,” Michael broke through her thoughts. Maria cocked her head, puzzled.

“To dance, silly.” She smiled and stepped into his embrace.

“Well, we won’t do anything too complicated for starters,” she said, bringing her face close to his, aware that her offer wasn’t entirely out of concern for his learning ability. She was sure he’d learn fast, but this was no time to be doing the Texan two-step. She wanted to be close to him, and this was as good a time as any.

To the strains of a slow, mellow song, Michael and Maria swayed, with their arms around each other, her head resting on his chest, and his cheek comfortably snuggled in her hair. When Maria finally lifted her head, her eyes were shining in expectation, and Michael knew what he had to do. His mouth descended on hers. And though their tongues mated in a slow, languorous dance, the kiss was soft and exploring, each party eager but tentative, both waiting for a cue from the other before moving on. It was nothing like the frenzied passion that drove them during the heatwave, where animal magnetism had drawn them together inexplicably in an attempt of one to satiate that thirst for the other. Tonight, with Maria, in his apartment, kissing her, running his fingers through her hair, feeling the pressure of her hands on his chest and his back, Michael realized that he could at last tell Max, not only does it feel good, it feels right.

Max! Michael jolted suddenly out of his stupor. He was still standing at the kitchen door and Max and Isabel were now alternately staring at him and at the blonde angel in his bed. He ushered them into the living area and quietly moved to close the bedroom door so they could talk and not disturb her. And anyway, he wasn’t sure he could cope if she woke up and freaked out at finding Max and Isabel there. When Maria freaked out, there was no stopping her.

“We were doing our homework,” he said, gesturing at the books strewn across his coffee table.