Oliver's Broken Leg
By: bestsingereva/Dori
Miley liked Jake; it was obvious, right? Right. They were in love! He did all he could to make her like him—including ask me out. When she finally fell for him, they were the perfect couple, right? Most of you would answer a direct "yes." Those of you that answer "no," are also wrong. Those of you that answer "well, yes, for the first part, but no, after a while—they lost interest in each other" are 1: really, really smart and 2: right. This is the story about a part where, well, they "lost interest in each other." You probably don't read me, do you? Just listen.
Today was the day. Thee day. Miley, Oliver and I were at the airport. Waiting. Waiting for Flight 201 to arrive. We were sitting near the Gateway, reading magazines. Oliver was reading his magazine, pretending that there was nothing else in the world to do better, staring at the words, focused on nothing else. He was irritated; something that he wasn't usually. He hadn't wanted to be here; Miley had dragged him down, along with me. Well, I had pretended not to want to, but deep, deep down, I kind of, sort of, barely wanted to go. I didn't want to go, but yet, I wanted to.
So there was Oliver, who hated being here, and me, in between, and Miley, who had dragged us here in the first place. She had made me give her a whole makeover (curling the eyelashes and everything. And when I said, "Why don't you just be yourself? Go in some jeans and a cute shirt!" she had said, "Are you kidding me? He can't see me like that ever!") just preparing to be here. She looked perfect. Her hair was up in a bun, with some strands hanging down to make it seem casual, but it wasn't, and the strands were straightened and were tripply coated with Mousse. She was wearing a yellow sundress (summer vacation was coming!) with red and pink flowers on it. The sundress had spaghetti straps, revealing her tanned shoulders and arms. She was beatiful, especially compared to my red T-shirt with a butterfly and embroidered jeans ($13 all together).
The reason that Miley was all dressed up was because her boyfriend, Jake Ryan, was returning from Romania. Today. Soon.
Finally, I saw a plane out the window. It was Flight 201. Jake's flight.
"Hey, Miles!" I told her. "There's Jake's plane!" I smiled at her, thinking this would make her feel better.
Nope. She squirmed around so much that she almost bumped Oliver out of his chair. He didn't say anything, just focused even more on his page.
"Do I look okay?" asked Miley. "Is my hair okay?"
"Yes, you look beautiful, now calm down," I told her in a soothing voice.
"Don't you tell me to calm down!" Miley snapped. "And don't you tell me I'm beautiful, either! How would you know?" Miley snapped at me.
"Well, I'm sorry," I said.
"Oh, Lils, I'm sorry. I'm so nervous. I'm just afraid that you'll tell me I'm pretty, but you're just trying to be nice, and then--"
"The plane's landing," I said. I knew it was cruel to do such a thing just to stop her from going on and on and on, but I had to.
Miley's eyes widened. "Oh, no!" she said. "I need a guy! A guy's opinion! Where's a guy, Lilly?" Miley panicked. She didn't seem to notice Oliver, since he hadn't said anything the whole time.
"There's one right next to you!" I said.
"Oliver," Miley turned to him and stared him in the face. "How do I look. Now, be truthful."
"Uh..." Oliver looked her up and down, as if he was seeing her for the first time in the day. "What am I supposed to say?"
"You're supposed to say what you think, donut!" said Miley. She smiled at him, and both of us knew that he was out of his "I'm-not-talking-to-anyone-mood."
"You look--pretty," said Oliver. Both of them blushed.
"Here comes Jake!" I said, pointing to him. He was finally emerging from the gateway.
Miley broke her blush and smile and ran toward Jake. She hugged him and kissed him, and he twirled her around.
Oliver looked at her for a minute, and then back down at his magazine. But I heard him mutter under his breath, "She looks amazing...but like she cares."