A/N: Ah…for some reason, I can't stop writing Loliver! Lately I've been craving to write stories for so many different televisions shows, but yet I keep returning to Hannah Montana. I just love Loliver

We can't even hug properly. I know it sounds stupid, or like I'm joking…but it's true.

I'm not saying that we'd never hugged back when we were simply friends, but now it's different. Now it's awkward. Now it's like every time we go to do something, both of us are so afraid we'll do it wrong that it does go wrong. Or maybe we're the ones wrong?

I don't know. I could be overanalyzing the situation, which is possible after all…but still. I can't help but recall all the times that we've hugged and it's just been…well…pathetic.

Like last year, for example. It was Halloween, and I'd bought his favorite candy for him. Don't ask what possessed me to do so. But it was the moment that would begin the chain of events that would lead to our current relationship. Sixth period had ended, and quickly I darted out of my Science class to catch up with him.

"Oliver, wait!" I shouted down the hallway, which gained me several stares from several annoying people.

Oliver paused from the other end of the hallway and curiously turned as I strode over to him. I still remember the first word from my mouth.

"Candy!" I blurted out.

The look on his face, with hindsight, was priceless. He lifted an eyebrow and his chocolate brown eyes narrowed in confusion as I struggled to remain in the mindset that he was just my friend; it was appropriate to give my best friend candy without feeling weird about it. Wasn't it?

"Pardon me?" Oliver finally managed to question, and I must've looked about to faint because he reached out and grabbed my shoulders, steering me out of the center of the hallway and over to stand against the wall. "Are you okay?"

"Uh…yeah…why wouldn't I be?" I stuttered, still in shock about it myself.

"Candy?" he inquired.

"Candy? Oh yeah, candy…" As quickly as I could, I snapped out of it and reached into my backpack, pulling out a Halloween-decorated bag. I'd filled it with many, many packets of milk-chocolate M&M's.

Holding out the bag for him, he grinned, "Thank you! Oh, Lilly!" His voice was not normal; it was softer, kinder, more vulnerable.

"Look inside," I encouraged, and my own voice was not the same. I realized, too, that my cheeks were warm. I was blushing. Oh, God, I was blushing! Why was I blushing?!

He did as I asked, peering inside, and his smile grew, "Yes!" he shrieked.

I was smiling now as well, and we both stood there silently across from each other, against the wall, smiling ridiculously, with people constantly passing us on their way out of the building. But we were in no great hurry now.

"Lilly," Oliver finally breathed, "I feel so bad, I don't have anything for you."

"It's okay," I replied, because of course that's what was supposed to be said. And in all reality, his smile had been enough reward.

He held his arms open, and I leaned forward to hug him. But we bumped heads. We just had to bump heads, and Oliver's head? Yeah, it's like rock-solid. The whole right side of my skull still aches to think about it.

"Ouch!" I quietly yelped, taking several steps backwards from him and rubbing my head.

"Yeah, sorry," he winced. "Wow, my head is actually throbbing." He flashed me an apologetic smile, one that was absolutely adorable yet completely frustrating at the same time.

I didn't want to be mad at him. Somehow, just knowing that I did not want to be triggered my emotions. I didn't want to be mad at him, so I decided to be mad at him. If that makes any sense. Anyway, that's why I didn't return the smile this time. Instead, I rolled my eyes. My normal self, the part of me that wasn't attracted to this boy, was seeping back into my body.

"Bye, Oliver." The soft tone of my voice was gone.

"Where are you going?"

"It's the end of the day, where do you think I'm going, you donut? Certainly not Chemistry."

I stomped off, in search of Miley so that I could tell her that Oliver had rudely hit me. We walked to her house that day, going on and on and on about all the things about Oliver that annoyed us. I was trying so very hard, struggling, fighting, in order to not like him. Perhaps trying as hard as I did was precisely what did me in?