Just a short one-shot. I hope you like it.
WARNING: It gets a little close to M rating by not super close and nothing too graphic.
I still do not own Hannah Montana. If I did, you know there would be tons of Liley.
They say that when you realize that you love someone, it hits you like a ton of bricks.
That wasn't true for me.
It was more of, I woke up one morning and it was just there. No amazing realization, No taken by surprise. It was just there. It wasn't the least bit astonishing. Who wouldn't fall for a girl like her, her body, her hair, her personality. Her everything.
My blood had always pounded when she was near, my skin always lit aflame when we touched, my heart had always stuttered when she smiled at me...
What else could that be but love? So no, it was not some out of nowhere shock.
Every day and every passing second, I had fallen deeper and deeper under her spell. I am her willing puppet, and she hold the strings.
I wanted to know her. And I do...
Some.
I know the exact length of her stride (I try to place my feet where hers have just been), how her arms swing in time with her legs (I often fantasize about just catching her hand in mine and swinging our arms together). I know the compliments that make her blush the most (I love to be the one to make it happen), and I know what makes her smile.
I know her real smiles (often when she's laughing at me) and I know her fake ones.
I know her laugh changes to the situation, if it's humorous, awkward, forced, nervous, or just out of giddiness.
I know that when she day dreams, she fiddles with the necklace I gave her for her birthday a few years back, I know how much she loves her brother despite their fights, and how much she looks up to, and depends on, her dad...
I know that when she thinks hard about something, she bites her lip and often making it bleed. The blood had been very distracting the first time that she did it, so I learned to keep a napkin in my pocket. When the skin breaks, I quickly dab the blood away so I wont be tempted to suck it off.
I know all these little things, I've been studying them for years, and I know all her dark secrets, but it's not enough.
I want to know why her cheeks always seemed to be flushed when she looks at me, or why she always seems to have a chest cold. I want to know what she daydreams about that makes her blush when I ask about it.
I want to know why she shivers when we hug when she seems to be warm enough.
All these things I had fallen for and it has become my purpose in live to find out more. I try to make a game of how red I can make her blush or how long I can keep her smiling.
I know that she can't ever love me like I do her, but that's okay. Being around her hurts, but being away kills. So I had become content with just friends. I'd rather be with her and not have her, then be without her entirely.
As long as I can hold her sometimes, as long as I can still make her cheeks go scarlet or hold her hand, I can survive.
But I crave her touch.
When we link hands, I entwine our fingers; when we hug, I hold her a second longer that I should; when we spend the night together, I scoot as close as I can and hold her like a lifeline, using the excuse of being asleep.
She never seems to notice or care. Sometimes I can trick myself into believing that she craves me too.
Then one day, we got an English assignment that changed everything. The topic of the essay we had to write, was gays.
When we got to her house, I sat on the bed beside her and pulled out my list of questions I had made up. A lot of them benefitted me as much as the paper.
"Are you gay?" I straight up ask her. Her rosy cheeks flare and her head snaps up from her work.
"What?!" I hold up my list and raise an eyebrow, suddenly even more interested than before.
"Oh, um." Her teeth latched onto her bottom lip as her eyebrows furrow. When blood starts to pool, I bite down on my own lip, the temptation to lean forward and taste it bubbling up in my lower stomach.
You're a creep, I scold myself.
So I reach into my pocket and remove a napkin with a sigh. Wordlessly, I flick Miley in the forehead and start to dab her swollen lip. I notice some color creep up from under her collar and up her throat.
I drag my eyes away, my own face reddening, and set the napkin down.
"Why do you always have one in your pocket?" She asks.
And I shrug. "You make yourself bleed a lot. Good thing you don't think that hard too often." Her eyebrows crease in an unfamiliar expression. That's odd, I know all her expressions.
Shaking my thoughts clear, I speak again. "So are you?"
"Am I what?" She snaps out of whatever revere she was in.
Once again, I hold up my list with an amused quirk of my lips.
"Oh yeah. I mean no. I mean, no I am not gay." She pronounces the last part slowly, making sure she says the thing she meant to say. I laugh at her flush of embarrassment.
"My turn. Are you? Gay?" I contemplate the answer.
"What is your definition of gay?" If she asks me something, I'm not going to straight up lie.
She seems to choke a little. "Liking girls."
"Then no, I am not gay." Another curious look crosses her face. I really need to figure out what these new expressions mean.
"Kay, my turn. How do you feel about gays?"
"It's wrong." She immediately responds and leaps to her feet. "It's gross and disgusting and it's not natural. It's not right and if a girl likes another girl, they're going to hell-"
"I never said anything about two girls. It could be two guys."
"Well that's wrong too. Anyone who likes the same sex is despicable and- and-"
I stand up. "Why are you lying?"
She stops pacing. "What?"
I walk closer until I'm standing nose to nose with her, her face flushing a darker pink. "You don't feel that way; you're lying. There are three ways to tell and you're doing all of them at once. Number one: you're not meeting my eyes." I grab her chin and jerk it so she's facing me. Her eyes still don't meet my own.
"Number two: your hands are wringing nonexistent water from your shirt." I grab her palms and massage them until her fingers loosen and fall free of the bunched fabric.
"And lastly, number three: your nose twitched." I tap it for effect. "That is not what you think and there is no point in lying unless you're trying to convince yourself, which you would only do if you were gay yourself."
She bites her lip and it starts to bleed once again.
"No, I'm not."
There's my answer. She wont meet my gaze. I come to a decision, a rash one, and step backwards.
"Okay." Her head snaps up curiously. I bring my hand up to my shirt and slowly unbutton it to reveal my swim top. (We were planning on going to the beach later)
I let it drop to the floor without taking my eyes off my best friend. Then I unbutton my shorts and instead of just letting them drop, slowly drag them down my legs.
A small squeaking noise comes from Miley.
I step toward her again and I slowly unbutton her shirt as well, letting my knuckles graze her breasts and abdomen. Then I push it from her shoulders and hear it make a plopping noise onto the carpet.
She's to frozen with wide eyes to do anything except sharply suck in a breath. I let my eyes wander her body freely for the first time and I feel a heat grow in my stomach. My already pounding heart stutters before racing even faster.
I take another step closer, one hand finding her rib cage and running a thumb over an already erect nipple, the other going to cup the back of her neck and taking a fist full of her hair.
Our lips graze just far enough apart to not be classified as a kiss.
It's her choice now; if she pulls away I will laugh like it was a joke. If not...
I wet my dry lips and a shutter goes through her as my tongue brushes hers too. I can feel her lips trembling.
"Well?" My voice had dropped an octave.
Then she crushes our mouths together with bruising force and her hands take fist full in my hair, tugging almost painfully.
An odd shock shoots through my stomach as our breasts slide together. The feeling can only be arousal. My hand moves from her neck top her hip, then the other as I pull her closer still.
I shove her backwards into a dresser and pin hips there with my own as my hands begin to explore her satiny skin. It's even softer than I had often imagined. I drag my nails down her stomach, enticing a deep moan from her throat.
I grasp her waist again with one hand and let the other tug at the waistband of her shorts.
She gasp into my mouth before slamming her lips back to my own and delving her tongue to explore my mouth.
I dip my hand past the elastic, and lower, until I finger her soaked and dripping center. Her hips buck into my hand.
Satisfied, yet also not, I pull back, pull my hand out, and put two inches between our bodies.
It feels like a mile and even more so when she gives a high pitched whine of protest.
When her eyes finally flutter open, I smirk.
"You're gross, disgusting. You're unnatural, going to hell. You're wrong." I throw her words back at her. I hold up my fingers, some of her juices sliding down the back of my hand. Then I smile and lick it, lapping it up like a dog. It's sweet but also salty and it's weird, but not necessarily bad.
"I thought you weren't gay." She whispers with a flinch.
"I'm not." I force her eyes meet mine. "I don't like girls." Again, she flinches. "But I don't like guys either. The person I like isn't just some girl. She's amazing. I fell in love with her, every single thing about her. And it didn't shock me when I finally realized it, because who wouldn't fall in love with a girl like that? Who wouldn't instantly fall in love with her laugh, or smile, or her confident, yet somehow, shy walk. Or how she could seemingly be two different people at different times... Who wouldn't fall in love with her blushes, her hugs, her warm hand in mine. Who wouldn't fall in love with how she wrinkles her nose when she laughs, or that adorable accent.
How could I not fall in love with how she bites her lip when she thinks, so hard that it bleeds? And it's so distracting that I have to carry around a napkin in my pocket every day just so I don't give myself a reason to let temptation take hold and just suck it off with my own lips and tongue." I have to suck in a sharp breath because the last part had pretty much been said in one.
I lower my voice considerably when I speak the next words. "Who wouldn't fall in love with their best friend that is so innocent and oblivious that it makes them want to scream and kiss them all at once because, despite all that, they find themselves falling faster and harder than ever before. So tell me Miley, who wouldn't be able to help but fall in love with you?"
I trail my fingers along her cheek, cupping it, and then letting my hand fall back to my side.
"I thought you." She whispers grabbing my hand and placing it back on her cheek.
"No, I am not gay, or straight. There is no label for what I am. I'm just a girl in love with another girl who happens to be her best friend."
Tears well up in Miley's eyes and her lips start to tremble again.
I wipe them away and bring our lips together, letting them brush, then kissing along her jaw and down her neck.
I was wrong before. Her whole body is trembling. I wrap an arm around her back and pull her torso flush into mine. I kiss back up her neck and hover my lips by her ear.
"Please love me." My voice wasn't husky or seductive; it was just what the words were supposed to be.
A plea.
And she's nodding, grabbing my face and forcing our swollen mouths together once more.
If you liked it, leave a review. If you didn't... please leave a review, I would still like to know.
Just.. Thanks for reading, please visit my other stories.
-Fantasy