That's how he wanted to think of Maria. He wished there was some way of going into his brain and cutting out the piece that held the memory of her dream. He wanted his Maria thoughts to be able to get a PG rating again.

He scrubbed the table so hard, it made his arms ache, refusing to allow himself even a glance at Maria. Then he moved on to Sarah's high chair, the kitchen cabinets, and the floor. Sarah had done some throwing before she got to the spitting. The girl had a good arm.

"Okay, she's done. Can you get me a towel and some clean clothes?" Maria asked.

"Dylan, get us a towel and some clean clothes for Sarah," Michael called. He decided it was okay to look at her now. She was talking to him. He couldn't stare at the floor like an idiot. Michael glanced over at her. Big mistake. Sarah had splashed water all over Maria and her shirt now had some interesting semitransparent spots. Michael locked his gaze on her face.

Maria raised her eyebrows. "I always wanted a little brother," Michael admitted. "You know, someone to get me stuff when I was too lazy to do it myself."

"Oh, that's horrible, isn't it, Sarah?" Maria leaned down and kissed the baby on the head.

Michael suddenly regretted not going for the towel and clothes himself. Because watching Maria kiss Sarah's head made him think about her kissing him. And that was completely sick.

Sarah splashed in the water, kicking her pudgy legs. Maria laughed and kissed her again. Michael wondered what it would be like if she did kiss him. And not on the top of his head, either-more like the way she'd kissed that guy in her dream.

Don't even go there, he ordered himself. It would be way too weird. She was the girl he felt protective of, the girl he liked to tease, the girl he liked to scare when they were watching old horror movies. Kissing Maria would be too much like kissing a little sister.

Dylan wandered into the kitchen and dropped the towel and clothes on the table. "A kimbie is a baseball mitt, if you want to know," he muttered. "She likes to sleep with it."

"Good going," Michael said.

Dylan nodded. He crossed to the fridge, opened it, poked around a little, and shut it. He pretended to be all interested in watching Maria dress the baby, which Michael knew he wasn't. He got himself a drink of water, drank it, and poured another one.

"Did you need something, Dylan?" Maria finally asked. She picked up Sarah and held the baby cradled against her chest.

Michael stared at Dylan. It was better than looking at Maria. He hoped in a couple more days, the memory of that dream would start to fade and things would get back to normal. He wanted to be able to hang out with her without having… thoughts.

"Um, there's this dance on tomorrow…," Dylan said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Michael tried to figure out what the problem was. "Are you afraid the Pascals won't give you permission to go?" he asked.

"No, they already said I could go. Mr. Pascal's going to drive me," Dylan answered. "But I don't know how to dance," he confessed in a rush.

Michael shot a glance at Maria and caught her trying not to smile. He tried not to smile back.

"Dancing's easy. We can teach you," Maria said. "I'll just go put the baby down. Dylan, show me where?"

I guess I better go pick out some CDs, Michael thought. He headed to his room-well, his and Dylan's room. He was serious when he told Maria he'd always wanted a little brother. And not only so he'd have someone who he could make wait on him-that was a bonus.

Getting ready to teach Dylan to dance was giving him this big-brother feeling, a little taste of what it could have been like. Although his brother wouldn't have been such a dweeb he needed to be taught how to dance when he was, like, thirteen years old. Michael would have made sure of that. If he had a little brother, he would have made sure the kid was able to handle himself.

Michael didn't know why he was bothering to think about this. He was never going to have a little brother. Or a big brother or a sister or parents.

"Michael, come on," Maria called from the living room. "I want to shake my groove thing."

He laughed. Maria could always do that. She could always make him laugh. And that's what he needed-especially when he was about to sink into a bunch of pathetic thoughts about not having a family. He grabbed a few CDs, then jerked open his middle dresser drawer and snagged a sweatshirt and hurried back to the living room.

"I thought you might be cold. You got all wet," he told Maria. He threw the sweatshirt to her, and she pulled it on. Good.

Michael popped one of the CDs into the player and cranked it.

Dylan instantly stiffened up. "So what do I do?" he asked.

"Whatever you want," Maria cried over the music. "That's the best thing about dancing." She twirled around the room, giving little hops, doing her happy dance.

Michael attempted to keep his thoughts in line by focusing on Dylan, who looked totally panicked. "Don't worry, not everybody dances like Maria," Michael said. "All you have to do is kind of shuffle your feet around."

"It's true," Maria said. "That's what Michael does. And there are usually a few girls desperate enough to dance with him."

Dylan laughed. Maria grabbed his hands and pulled him around the room a few times. Michael stepped back and watched. Maria was right about him. He was an okay dancer, but he never got into it the way she did. It's like the music took her over, from all those springy blond curls to-

Get a grip, Michael told himself. As soon as the song was over he killed the music. "You'll be fine," Michael told Dylan.

"But what about, you know, slow dancing?" Dylan asked.

"Even easier," Michael answered. "You don't even really have to shuffle your feet. You just kind of hold the girl and sway."

"But"-Dylan lowered his voice, sounding embarrassed-"but where… where are you supposed to hold her?"

Maria changed CDs and a slow song started up. She turned off the overhead light. "You can't slow dance when it's this bright," she said. She stepped up to Michael. "You can use me to demonstrate."

He didn't want to touch her right now. Not with all those thoughts about her wet shirt filling his brain. But he couldn't think of a way out of it.

"There are a couple of places your hands can go. I usually put mine here," Michael told Dylan. He positioned his hands in the curve of Maria's waist.

"A good choice," Maria said. "The girl might do something like this." She linked her hands behind Michael's neck.

This felt… pretty nice. It didn't feel all wrong and awkward the way he thought it would.

"Is that how far away I should be?" Dylan asked. Any second Michael expected him to pull out some paper and start taking notes.

"Probably to start," Maria said. "But there are signals that a girl wouldn't mind being held a little closer. Like she might stare into your eyes."

Maria looked up at Michael. Man, her eyes were blue. And she always smelled so good.

Michael wondered what the deal was with her dream. Was there some guy out there she had a thing for, some guy she wanted to kiss? Or did she wake up the next morning going, "That was weird. I guess I shouldn't eat pineapple pizza before I go to bed."

"Or she might move her arms around your waist." Maria demonstrated on Michael, and it continued to feel good. He kept waiting for that wave of but-this-is-the-girl-who's-like-my-little-sister feeling to sweep over him. But it didn't come.

"That's a pretty clear signal she wants to be held closer," Maria said. "Of course, some guys, like Michael, are kind of slow. They miss the more subtle hints."

"I'm not missing any hints," Michael answered. He pulled her up against him and slid one of his hands up her back. She snuggled closer, resting her cheek against his chest. That little-sister feeling still didn't come.