Disclaimers. They really, really ruin the mood of the start of a story, don't they? We all know the creator of Hannah Montana has better things to do (such as roll around in hills of money) than to write fan girl stories. So what am I trying to say here? I'm not rolling around in hills of money, that's what. Because I'm not the owner/creator/actor/actress of Hannah Montana. I'm just love Oliver and Lilly. And the two of them together is art.

Now, onwards. This is AU, by the way. No Miley. I hate writing her, even though I do love her dearly.

You want her.

Want her? Want. Want was an understatement. But it was a statement, nevertheless. A truthful statement, at that.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as he pretended to be interested in the teacher's lecture so that he could pretend not to watch her. But he was. He pretended not to watch her as she crossed her legs and he pretended not to enjoy seeing her denim skirt rise just a little bit higher, her thigh exposed just a little bit more. He pretended not to watch as she flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, the beautiful tendrils falling gracefully to the middle of her back. He pretended not to watch as she bit the tip of her pen, her lips slightly moistened.

He slid in his seat, pretending that pretending to watch her didn't excitement him to death.

Ring.

The sound of the school bell sounded, and Oliver Oken found himself waiting until everyone was out of the classroom for the third time that week before he got up himself to gather his things. With his backpack over one shoulder and his English Lit book in the other, he made his way out of the deserted classroom and into the crowded halls but before he could merge into the traffic of students, and felt a small hand tug on his arm and pull him to the side, back by the entry way of the classroom.

"Hey."

Her voice was soft and had a velvet touch to it. Her voice, like always, caused the hair on his arms stand on end.

He gulped. "H-hey." he held his book in front of himself with both hands. "What's up, Lilly?"

Lillian Ann Truscott bit her bottom lip and shrugged her shoulders. "The ceiling?"

"Cute," he leaned up against a strangers locker as he looked at the hall. "Why do you think everyone's in such a rush?" he looked at her as she looked at him with pure innocence in her eyes. Like she didn't know what she was doing to him.

"I don't know," she crossed her arms over her chest.

Oliver looked away. She really didn't know what it was that she did to him.

"Who want's to go home, anyways?" she asked.

"I don't think their going home." he answered her honestly, truthfully.

She laughed. "No, you're right. Their going to Henderson's party."

"Are you going?" he asked as he looked back at her, this time making sure he looked at her eyes and her eyes only.

Her blue eyes stayed on his for a second before she turned to look at the ground. "I don't think I really want to run from the police today."

"So you are going home?" he nudged her.

She looked back up at him, her smile reaching her eyes.

He suddenly forgot how to breathe.

"Not exactly." she shifted from foot to foot, something she often did out of habit. "I plan on hanging out with my best friend today."

He nodded and looked away to the hall. During hours, after five minutes, you still couldn't get to your class but after the last bell, three minutes pass and the halls are empty. He wasn't really surprised to only see a few students at their lockers by now, and that was all. "Are you two girls going to have a pillow fight?"

She shrugged. "He, and that's his choice."

He grinned as he looked over at her. "He, huh? Lucky guy."

"Sure," she shrugged. "What about you?"

"Me?" he stood up straight and started to walk down the empty halls, towards the exit door. As expected, Lilly followed him in tow, her blonde hair flowing behind her. "Hanging out with my best friend, actually. What are the odds?"

"Oh?" she smiled at him as she walked a little faster to keep to his side. "And do you and him plan on breaking up slumber parties?"

"She," he stopped walking just before the exit doors and he looked into her eyes, a grin on his face. "And that's her choice."

"She?" she bit her bottom lip again. "Lucky girl. What would your choice be?"

He noticed she was in front of him, her back to the door, and currently all the blood in his head had disappeared as wild thoughts occurred to him. Shaking his head, he tried to focus on her. He placed his hand on the door. "My choice," he leaned in, their lips just inches apart. "Would be that we have a slumber party of our own."

Then he pushed the lever on the door, and she stumbled back a few steps as the crimson, heavy door opened fully behind her.

He motioned for her to walk ahead of him, and she did just that, her cheeks red. He felt the rush of the blood to his cheeks as the wind hit him when they stepped outside. They walked to the parking lot in silence after that and when they reached their cars, which were parked right next to one another, she leaned up against the driver side of his car.

"What time do you want me over?" Lilly asked as she tugged at her white and black baseball tee.

"Whenever," he shrugged as he threw his backpack in the back of his trunk, and then he motioned for her to give him hers. "When can you get away?"

"Six, probably," she slid her bag off of her shoulders and handed it to him. She watched as he threw hers in the trunk, too, and then he stood in front of her, his face serious.

"Want to do dinner?"

"Pizza, like always," she smiled and stood up straight. "After we work on our report."

"Yeah, yeah," he nodded and rolled his eyes. "That's only if you read your half of the book."

Lilly stuck her tongue out at him and moved so that he could open up his car door. "Bye, Olly-kins."

"See you later, Jelly-bean." Oliver opened up his door and watched as Lilly walked to her car. Once she was in hers, he jumped into his driver seat and as he closed the door, he had to take a deep breath.

Wanting Lilly was defiantly an understatement.

*giggle* Definitely a story not for a child's eye, but I swear it's not a dirty story. I promise. Their eighteen, what else goes on through a hormonal teens head? Especially a boy? Who happens to be Oliver? Come now. Most of you are in high school, you should know. Anyways, this is defiantly a different writing style I'm trying out. Do you like it? Let me know. Be honest. I'm in testing trials here. This will be a three part, four the most. First chapter was meant to be short. Other's might be longer. Depends, really.