HANNAH MONTANA: Guitar Girl

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hannah Montana and its characters and places. It is owned exclusively by the Disney Channel.

"You're late," Oliver told me. "Did you bring your guitar?"

"Yeah." I held up my trusty instrument. "So, you ready?"

"Minutes ago." Oliver looked at his watch, and let me in.

"Hey, Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"I really, really want to thank you for the opportunity to learn how to play the guitar, I really do." I excused myself for gushing like that; it's just that I've envied my dad every time he plays the guitar effortlessly. And besides, I think that people would love it if Hannah Montana, my secret pop star alter-ego, played the guitar. So when I found out that Oliver Oken, one of my first few friends in Malibu, played the guitar, I didn't hesitate to ask him to teach me. I can't ask Dad since he's too busy.

Oliver grinned. "Oh, it's no problem, Miley." He sat down on the bed and pulled out his guitar. Upon seeing it, I totally fell in love with it. It was blue and it had Oliver's name painted white on a curve. It had different stickers and was totally gorgeous. I looked down at my own pink one, and felt intimidated. Could you blame me? Dad just bought this a week ago! He caught me staring at his guitar and began strumming. "I know, isn't it awesome? My dad painted my name on. I just added the stickers to be unique."

I agreed. "Uh-huh. It looks totally cool."

"Okay, let's start. First you want to learn this chord." Oliver placed his pointer, middle finger and ring finger on the third, fourth and fifth string of his guitar. "It's the A chord."

I tried to copy, but I was left-handed, so I couldn't follow. "Uh..."

We tried to do it over and over, but I couldn't do it. Finally, Oliver stood up and put his guitar back in its case. "This isn't going to work."

"I knew it, you're giving up on me!" I accused.

"No, Miley, it's just..." Oliver began, looking at his lap. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "I know! Sit on my lap." He patted his lap.

What he said surprised me. "H-huh?"

"Sit on my lap. Then, I could teach you better."

I sat on his lap, just as he had said. "Are you okay with this?"

"Fine," Oliver replied. "Oof, you're kind of heavy."

I elbowed him in the ribs. "I am not! I'm ninety-five pounds!"

"Whatever, let's move on." Oliver held my right hand. "This," he said as he held it up. "This is the one you use to strum. And this." He held my left hand up. "This is the one you use to do the chords. Not the other way around. Got it?"

"Almost," I replied as I tried to copy the one Oliver did earlier, the A chord. "Yeah, I think I've got it."

Oliver placed his head on my left shoulder, to see how I was doing. I felt his breath on my cheek. I tried to be as normal as possible, but nothing could work when the biggest crush you've got places his head on your shoulder, his lips inches from yours, and you're sitting on his lap, while he holds your hands. So, yeah. I think Oliver is gorgeous and perfect. Ever since I met him.

"You're doing great," Oliver told me after teaching me a few chords.

I turned to face him. "Really? You think so—" Before I could say, "Thanks," my lips touched Oliver's. I couldn't blame him, but his head was on my shoulder, and technically, if I turn to face him, I'm sure to kiss him, since our faces are really close. I closed my eyes. Oliver's lips were soft, just as I expected them to be. Not that I'm daydreaming about kissing him, though.

He pulled away, which kind of made my heart sink. "Uh, I'm so sorry, Miley, I didn't mean to."

"No, it's okay," I replied, my heart beating fast. "I'm getting the hang of this, but I'm hungry."

"Oh, we have pizza in the fridge," Oliver said.

"Great, I'll go help you heat it up." I sat up and took his hand. We walked out the door and ran downstairs.

We placed the last two slices of pizza on a plate and put the plate inside the microwave oven. Oliver closed the door of the oven, pushed a few buttons and the oven lit up, heating the pizza. When it was done, Oliver pressed the button to open the oven door.

He placed the plate on the table. "Here you go."

I took a bite from my pizza. Mm, ham and cheese. "So, are you alone at home often?"

"Well," Oliver answered. "Kind of. You see, my mom, she sings at this club somewhere. And her shift is almost a whole day, so I only get to see her on Sundays, since she comes home really late. And my dad, he's always traveling. He and mom hardly see each other. And I'm an only child. So, yeah, I'm alone at home often."

I just nodded and kept on munching on the pizza. "I see."

"Hey," Oliver said. "Why am I the only one talking about myself?"

"You're not asking me questions," I reasoned.

"Okay," Oliver told me. "So give me a mini-biography of Miley Stewart."

"Sure. So, my name is Miley Stewart. You can call me Miley for short. I've lived in Tennessee my whole life, but I moved to Malibu. I was born on May twelve, fourteen years ago. I like to sing, and I idolize Hannah Montana." I paused. "Well, that's about it."

"You like Hannah Montana?" Oliver asked. "I do, too!"

Of course I like Hannah Montana. She's me! I thought. "What's not to like about her? She has a great voice, she's known internationally, she has chart-topping hits and she gets to travel the world at such a young age!" And, I added in my thoughts, she manages to hide it in her everyday life.

"Why, how old is she, anyway?" Oliver inquired.

"Fourteen."

"You mean to say, I have a chance with her? Cool!" Oliver clapped his hands together.

The idea of Oliver liking my alter-ego made me feel giddy inside. Maybe he likes me, too. I still couldn't take my mind off of the fact that we shared a kiss earlier. I looked up, realizing that Oliver had been staring at me.

Hard.

When Oliver realized that I had looked up, he looked away. He shrugged. "Hey, let's continue your lessons."

ooHMoo

We spent more hours with me on Oliver's lap, learning chords. But all I could think of was the kiss. Before Oliver could teach me the first few chords of my own song, Who Said, I just couldn't wait any longer.

"I like you," I breathed.

"So the first chord is—wait, what?" Oliver asked.

"I...I like you, Oliver. For, like, ever."

"Do you mean it?"

I nodded. "Would I lie to you about something like that? Especially at a time like this, where we kissed just hours ago, and didn't even mean to? I just can't stop thinking about it since it happened. But I guess it doesn't mean that you like me back, since you don't show any signs of liking me at all. Or maybe you do?" I was talking so fast that even I can't understand the words escaping my mouth. "Oh, what's the point? I know that—"

My words were blocked by a kiss. Particularly, a kiss from Oliver. I kissed him back, closed my eyes and felt his hand on my arm, and his own arm around my waist. I put both my hands on both his shoulders. I backed away. "Does that mean that you feel the same way?"

He nodded, not meeting my gaze. "I fell in love with you ever since you befriended me."

I looked at my watch. "I should get going. Thanks for the lessons, and the...the...you know, the..."

"Kiss?"

"Yeah, the kiss. So, when's the next lesson?" I asked.

"Next week. Good-bye, Miley," Oliver said, getting up and leading me to the door, his hand on the small of my back.

"Next week?" I replied. "Alright, then. It's a date."

We both paused when I said that. I quickly recovered. "Well, not technically, but if you want it to be, it's okay, too. But where will we hold it, then? And whose guitar would we bring?" I went on and on just like I had when I confessed to Oliver that I liked him, and just like he had earlier, he kissed me to shut me up.

"Yeah, okay," Oliver told me when we reached the front door. "I'd love it if it were a date."

We talked more to make arrangements, and we kissed for the last time that day. Then, I really had to go. "Bye, Oliver," I said as I got up to leave.

"Bye, Miles," Oliver responded, closing the front door.

Not only did I get to be a guitar girl today, I got to be the guitar girl of Oliver's dreams, too. It never would have gotten better. But I wonder, would Oliver like me more if he found out I was Hannah Montana? Man, I'm going on and on again. Now, if only Oliver would kiss me to shut me up...

(A/N: Note that this happened before the episode Miley, Get Your Gum, so Oliver doesn't know that Miley is Hannah yet. Miley's birthday, when she told Oliver her mini-biography, was based on the date the episode It's a Mannequin's World, which appears to be Miley's birthday, was first aired. Please review!)