Yes, I have a teddy bear. I'm just not stupid like Miley, bringing it to school where people can snap pictures and blackmail me. It remains in my room, every single day, in roughly the same spot, same position. Only select people know about my bear.

Yes, my teddy bear has a name. He's a boy, and I call him Hershey.

Yes, Oliver Oscar Oken is in my room, staring hard at my teddy bear, with squinted eyes, all angry-like. I squint my eyes to mock him, but he doesn't notice. He's too busy taking in every detail of poor Hershey.

"Oliver?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah?" He responds.

The two of us are sitting in my room with the door open, because that's the only way that my mother will allow Oliver to be in my room now that she knows we are officially dating. My TV is on, and I am lying on one side of my bed, with Hershey in my arms, and Oliver next to me.

"What…what are you doing?" I say, though I know that he is starring at Hershey as if my teddy bear is a stuffed-animal form of the murderer doll from Chucky.

"Nothing. Why?" He inhales and exhales, and he looks away from the doll, and away from me.

I want to feel mad, but I just laugh. "What is wrong with you today?"

"There is nothing wrong!" He insists.

Now I stare down at my brown teddy bear. I squeeze him tight in my arms, then bring him up to my lips to kiss him. And then…

"Oliver?" I question.

"Yes, Lilly?"
"Are you…?" I trail off.

Oliver's gaze returns to me, to the bear. He slightly smiles, slightly blushes. "Am I what?"

"No, I think you know what I am getting at."

"Well if I know, and you know that I know, can't you just fix it?" He's so serious it's almost sad.

I laugh, and after a moment, so does he.

"Oh, Oliver…" I stare down at Hershey again and another laugh is shared between my boyfriend and me.

"I'm not," he attempts to lie.

"Oliver, you look like you're about to shred my poor Hershey."

"No I don't." He denies.

"Yes you do! Oliver, you are so jealous of my teddy bear!"

Oliver tosses his hands up in the air. "Well, can you blame me? Look at you over there, all cute and adorable, and I want to kiss your lips, and I want to hold you, and who are you kissing? Who are you squeezing tight? A little bear! That bear gets more love than I do! So yeah, I'm kinda wishing I were Hershey right now. Of course I am jealous!"

A small smile crosses my lips, and my stomach feels strange. Oliver can do that to me sometimes. He makes me feel special; he makes me feel…important. He can be so romantic with what he says. I like it, but I am Lilly Truscott. I am no good at being romantic.

"Oliver…" I sigh. "Am I not showing you how much I care enough?"

He sighs too, and for the first time all day, he looks at me, into my eyes, instead of at the stupid bear. "No, Lils…I know you care. I know you do. It's just…you don't like kissing at school, and I can understand that, but…what about now? This is hard for me…every time I see you, I want to kiss you!"

"It's not that I don't want to kiss you, Oliver."

Another sigh. Boys are so complicated. They believe a public display of affection is needed twenty-four-seven. Sometimes? Sometimes it's just nice to sit right next to the one you love, just sit there, together, watching a movie, or simply talking.

Oliver scoots closer to me. "I know. But…"

For being so stupid, boys can be smart. Now Oliver has me thinking about kissing him, and desiring to kiss him, and needing to kiss those soft lips. At some point, Hershey is tossed aside, and Oliver's lips are on mine, and he is kissing me, and I am kissing him. We kiss over and over again, taking breaks to breathe. Even when we finish, we are still not finished.

"That was nice," Oliver smiles.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Thank you?"

"Yes…for reminding me how much I missed that."

I smile too, down at my boyfriend. My TV is still on, and I am lying on one side of my bed, with Oliver in my arms, and Hershey right next to me.