Saturday night arrived and soon the party was in full swing. The jukebox was blaring and the guests were dancing. Annabelle stood outside the door trying to get up enough courage to knock. She had never been to a party like this before and she was a nervous wreck. The parties she usually attended took place at her grandmother’s mansion and were very formal. She took a deep breath and finally knocked.
“Hi!” Micky answered the door. “How’s the hand?” He held it open for her as she walked in.
“Much better, thanks.” She smiled looking around.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to my roommates.” He casually took her hand and led her through the crowd to where Mike, Peter and Davy were standing. “Annabelle Spano, this is Mike Nesmith, Peter Tork and Davy Jones.”
“Its nice to meet you.” Annabelle smiled.
“Good to meet you too, luv.” Davy took her hand and gently kissed it.
“Don’t do that.” Mike elbowed him.
“Micky told us you just moved here from Beverly Hills.” Peter said. “Do your parents still live there?”
“My mom is dead.” She said very matter-of-factly.
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry.” Peter said sadly.
“No, don’t be. It’s okay, Peter.” She smiled softly. “She died when I was just a baby. I was raised by my father and my grandmother.”
“That must have been hard.” Micky gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
She looked down at their joined hands and then back up into his eyes. “Sometimes it was.”
“Come on, Mick.” Mike interrupted. “We’re gonna play now.”
“Okay.” He answered without taking his eyes off of Annabelle. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
She smiled and took a seat on the couch while the guys went up on the makeshift stage. “Hey everyone!” Mike spoke into the microphone. “Thanks for coming tonight. This is ‘You Just May Be The One’.”
The Monkees did several songs before deciding to take a break and join the party. Micky walked over to Annabelle. “Are you having a good time?”
“Yes.” She smiled shyly. “You guys are really good.”
“Thanks. Do you want to go outside and talk? It’s a little crowded in here.” He held out his hand to her.
“Sure.” She took his hand and followed him outside onto the veranda. “I still can’t get over this view.”
“I know.” They sat down in the wall surrounding the veranda. “The view almost makes up for the dump Babbitt rents to us.”
She laughed, “Almost. How long have you lived here?”
“About a year. Mike and I moved in first and then Peter and Davy moved in about a month later. How come you decided to move here?” He asked.
“I wanted to live on my own.” She answered sadly. “At least for a little while.”
“What do you mean, Belle?”
She looked at him with a brave smile and shook her head. “Nothing.”
He knew there was something she wasn’t telling him but he didn’t want to push her. “Are you hungry or anything? We’ve got lots of food.”
“No thanks. I should probably get going. I’m taking you away from your other guests.” She stood up.
“No, please don’t go.” He stood quickly and touched her arm. “You are the only guest I’m interested in.”
“You don’t even know me.” She blushed.
“I’d like the chance to get to know you.” He smiled. “Please stay, Belle.”
She smiled and nodded, “Alright, for a little while.”
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Annabelle ended up staying until all the guests had left and it was just she and the guys. She helped them clean up the pad and then Micky walked her home. “Thanks for everything.” She smiled. “I had a really great time.”
“Me too.” He returned her smile. “I hope we can see each other again.”
“You’ll see me tomorrow. I haven’t been to the beach yet and Peter said you guys usually hang out there on Sundays.” She tried to keep her voice casual.
“Maybe we can go out alone afterwards.” He said. “We could go see a movie or get some dinner.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She sighed.
He reached out and wrapped a strand of her hair around his fingers. “I’m glad you came over tonight, Belle.”
“Me too.” She said softly looking into his eyes.
He bent his head leaning closer, giving her time to pull away. When she didn’t, he softly touched his lips to hers. He wrapped his arms around her and gently prided her lips apart and slipped his tongue inside for a taste.
She clung to him, her hands fisting in his shirt. And then she pushed him away. “I can’t.” The tears welled in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Belle.” He cupped her face. “I didn’t mean to push you.”
“No, its not you. Its me.” She looked up at him. “Micky, I’m engaged.”
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Continue to Part 4
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