Georgia has changed her – what's that old song she heard her daddy singing once, strumming his guitar on the back deck? "Georgia, on my mind…" and she can't remember the rest, but that little bit is bouncing, bouncing around in her head.
"Miiiiiiiiiiiiiles!" Mandy snaps her fingers a few times, stretching out her name. "Come on, have another cup!"
Miley blinks a few times, and stares at Mandy, who is squished up so close to her on the couch that she's practically sitting on Miley's lap. The apartment is filled with loud music and louder laughter, and the small plastic cup of candy colored liquid that Mandy is trying to shove under her nose reminds Miley of the three, four (five?) similar ones she's had that evening.
"Not now." Miley lolls her head to the side, wishing desperately that Mandy would get bored all ready so that they could leave. This wasn't what she'd had in mind when she'd called Mandy as soon as she landed, updating her Twitter at the baggage claim ("Girls night out with my bestie MANDERZZZ!") and ignoring the feeling in the pit of her stomach that LA looked kind of dull and hazy compared to where she had spent her past few months breathing in the sea and sky. Miley still isn't sure how they ended up at a random house party instead of sitting in Mandy's room, giggling and recording videos, but she is suddenly very, very over it.
"I want to go," she mutters, turning her head in back in Mandy's direction. Mandy bursts into hysterical giggles against Miley's shoulder, and the whole room spins.
"Mandy, come on." Miley struggles to sit upright and ignore the nausea that quickly rises in her throat. "I want to go now."
Mandy rolls her eyes. "You're being lame."
Miley stares at her for a full beat before Mandy sighs dramatically. "Fine. I'll tell Ricky to drive us back now." She shoves off the couch, nearly knocking Miley over as she stands.
Miley knows that Mandy is pissed, but at this moment, she can't bring herself to care. She's regretting having anything to drink, regretting coming out instead of just going to bed, and regretting that she can't look up at the sky to see millions upon millions of stars.
In the car, she ends up on Mandy's lap. They've crammed what seems like about ten people into Ricky's Escalade, and Miley does not understand why all of these people need to accompany them back to Mandy's place.
Plus, Ricky may be sober, but he drives like shit.
"Change the station!" Mandy is screaming towards the passenger seat, like, directly into Miley's ear, and her laugh is starting to drill directly into Miley's brain.
"Just leave it. Mandy, who cares? Leave it." Miley rests her head against the cool window glass.
"Come on, we need some Miley up in here!" Mandy is trying to lunge towards the sun roof. "See you again, baby! Our girl is back in town!"
Drunken laughter fills the car as Mandy begins to lead everyone in a sing-along of See You Again, drowning out whatever is blasting from the radio. Ignore it, ignore it, we're almost at Mandy's – Miley repeats the phrases again and again in her head, trying to keep the liquid contents of her stomach down every time the car makes a screeching turn – and then through half lidded eyes, she sees one of the guys in the trunk pull a half liter of vodka out of his bag.
"No," she says, but no one hears her, and the temperature in the car feels like about a hundred degrees –
"NO!" The car has stopped at a red light, and Miley opens the door and nearly falls out of the car, barely managing to catch herself by grabbing the door handle.
"Miley, what the hell?" Mandy reaches out and grabs her arm. "Get back in the car. We're five minutes from my place."
"Mandy, he has a bottle in the car." Miley is half whispering, and is pretty sure that if she wasn't clinging to the car door she would fall over. "And Ricky is driving like shit. If we get pulled over, I'm done."
Mandy tugs her arm again, this time almost hard enough to knock Miley off balance. "Miley. Get over yourself, it's five minutes and we're there. What the hell happened to you? You used to be up for this kind of thing."
"Mandy," and it is now a serious struggle not to throw up. "Mandy, please. Get out with me and we'll walk to your house. Please."
"You walk." Mandy snatches her hand back in the car. "What the hell is with you? Be lame and walk, if you're going to pull this kind of thing."
There are cars honking, the light has turned green, and her stomach lurches so violently that Miley turns and runs from the car towards a patch of trees. She barely makes it away from the street lights and into the cover of darkness before she falls to her knees and begins to vomit. Over the sounds of her own retching, she dimly hears a door slam and a screech of tires.
After she finishes, she manages to crawl a few feet away and curl up against the base of a tree. She rests her head on her knees and waits until she feels like she isn't going to die. Time passes, a few minutes, an hour? The photographers aren't here, she thinks, a lone coherent thought in the jumbled mess. Thank god, no one saw. No one saw.
Finally, she's able to move a little, without feeling like her body is collapsing in on itself.
Never again. I swear. Let me get out of this, and I'll never be stupid enough to drink again. As far as prayer goes, it leans towards desparate, but she figures desperation is about all she has left.
The time on her phone shows 2:11 in bright digits, and she knows that if he doesn't answer, she's in more trouble than she's ever been in her entire life (the photos are going to look like a walk on the beach in comparison if her parents find out about this).
She puts every ounce of prayer behind one push of her index finger on her dial pad.
The phone rings, once, twice, and without realizing it, she's starting to cry, because if he doesn't pick up, she –
"Miley?" The voice is sleepy, but not like she woke him up. Just like he was lying on the couch, probably scratching Elvis' head, watching the TV on low volume, and letting his eyes begin to shut. She knows, she knows which voice it is, she knows him better than anyone, and now she is really crying in earnest.
"Nick." She can barely breathe around the sobs. "Nicky, I screwed up."
"Miley?" His voice is awake now, and she hears the low urgency of panic. "Miley, what's going on?"
"I was with Mandy, and I got drunk. Nick, I got drunk. I don't know what's wrong with me." Miley hears her own words and tries not to cry even harder.
"You're drunk? Miley… Miley, it's ok. It's ok. It…" He trails off, and when he speaks again, she swears he's moved his mouth closer to the phone. "Listen to me. It's ok. It happened, Miley, and you don't need to beat yourself up about it."
"No. I mean…" She takes a deep breath and tries for something resembling control. "It's not that. Why I called you. I – I got out of the car, while we were going home. And I'm stuck somewhere, I'm hiding from the road, and I didn't know who else to call." Her voice sounds small and stupid, and she squeezes the phone so hard her knuckles turn white.
"You're on the side of the road? Alone?"
"It was stupid, I know. Nicky, they had a bottle, in the car, and I couldn't –"
"Miley. Listen to me. Do you know where you are? Can you tell me what streets you're near?" Nick is speaking slowly, like he's forcing the calm into every word, but she can hear him moving around; hear the quiet motion through his end of the line.
"I'm in the woods, I…" She looks around, rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. "I stayed away from the road and the street lights so no one could see me."
"Okay. Okay, Miley, here's what you need to do. Walk to the edge of the woods, and take a look, okay? Look for a street sign. And then go back. Stay on the phone, okay?"
She catches herself nodding (stupid) and stands up, stumbling a little. "Okay. Okay." She walks shakily towards the way she ran in, stepping carefully so she doesn't fall over. At the edge of the bank of trees, the streets are awash in the dull glow of the overhead lights, but thankfully, she doesn't see any cars.
"Nicky?"
"I'm here. Do you see anything?"
She squints at the signs. "Okay. Um, Edgeview. And Lake Terrace. That's the nearest corner."
"Okay. Hold on, Miley, okay? Hold on."
She hears the clicking of keys in the background, a beat of silence.
"Miley. Don't go anywhere; I'm coming to pick you up. Stay there, okay? I'll be there soon."
She ends up waiting at a different tree; hidden in the shadows but enough that she can see the road. Every time she sees a set of headlights, her heart starts pounding and doesn't stop until they've driven by. When she sees a pair slow and then come to a stop, her heart beats so hard she can practically hear it echo through the trees.
A door slams, and she sees a flashlight beam pop out. Miley knows it's probably him, but she stays put – it could be the cops, or a paparazzi, or someone with a flat tire, or –
"Miley?" His voice is low, and soft, and she feels like she is going to cry all over again. She stands up so quickly that she nearly falls over again, and Nick jogs towards the source of the noise.
"Miley?" He says again, and now she sees a bright light blind her vision for a moment, and then the beam lowers and Nick is standing in front of her.
They stand, frozen, for about five seconds, and then Nick closes the distance between them.
"Hey," he says, quietly, and runs his hand along the curve of her cheek. She closes her eyes and lets the tears fall.
"I brought you this," he says, and his hand has moved to stroking her hair. She opens her eyes and sees him offering a bottle of water.
"Thanks," she says, and opens it to take a tentative sip. It doesn't make her gag, so she drinks some more, finishing about half the bottle.
"My dad is going to kill me," she mutters, trying to screw the top back on to the bottle.
His fingers pause, and then tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's going to find out?"
"Well, yeah." She leans back against the tree, not sure how much longer her legs will hold her up. "I'm not going to Mandy's. I won't."
Nick nods, as if she's just made some sort of incredibly wise statement. "Mom and Dad went back to Jersey for the weekend. With Frankie."
Her brain struggles to comprehend why he's making small talk, and then all of a sudden she gets it.
"I could stay at your place?"
"Unless you really want to go home now and wake up your dad." She sees the hint of a smile on his face, and dammit, there go the tears again.
"Thank you," she manages, and uses her sleeve to try to wipe her eyes.
"Come on, Miley," he says, and wraps and arm around her shoulders. They walk to the car, Nick matching his pace to Miley's slow steps.
"I really screwed up." She watches him open the door on her side, lets him hold her arm to keep her steady as she lowers herself into his car. "I'm an idiot, Nick."
He doesn't say anything, just shuts the door and walks around to his side. She watches him walk around the front of the car and then climb into the driver's seat.
"You want to tell me the whole story?" Nick watches the road, and steals a glance at her as he pulls of the shoulder.
She takes a deep breath, and begins to talk.
By the time they reach the Jonas house, Miley feels like she's been talking for hours. They roll into the driveway, and Nick cuts the engine.
"I don't think you were that stupid," he says, and she gives him a look that makes him laugh a little.
"I got drunk," she says, and slumps a little further down in the seat. "I've never even had a taste of alcohol, and I could've been caught by cameras, or my dad, or anyone."
"Well, that was the stupid part." He's definitely smiling, and she feels a little better, a little less like the worst person in the world. "But you were smart enough to walk away from the car, and to call me."
"Yeah." She stares at the edge of her flip-flops.
"And Miley?" It takes a minute, but she turns her head to meet his gaze. "I know you, and you wouldn't do something like this unless there was something really upsetting you.
Miley turns her head back towards her feet, not wanting to look at his eyes anymore. They sit for a few moments in silence.
"Miley?"
She shrugs, still not looking up. "I just really want a shower."
"Okay." She hears him sigh, and then open the driver side door. "Okay."
The shower feels incredible. Miley climbs out and feels about a million times more human. She pulls on the sweat pants and t-shirt that Nick is lending her, and stares at herself in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, she opens the door to walk down the hall to Nick's room.
He only has the night stand light on. She stares at him for a minute, stretched out on his bed with his eyes closed. Miley shuts the door to his room behind her, and turns to walk towards him.
"Hey," he says, and she jumps a little.
"Hi." She walks over to the edge of the bed, and he opens his eyes to look up at her, and then sits up.
"So there's an extra blanket in the closet if you need it, and I'll be on the couch downstairs if you need me."
He stands up, and she steps over a little, slightly blocking his path.
"Or, um. You could stay." She can't quite force herself to look at him, because she feels kind of pathetic. He links his fingers with hers and something like relief floods her body.
"I could stay." Miley tilts her gaze up towards his, and sees that faint smile again. She leans forward, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to let her forehead come to rest in the crook of his neck. They stand there for a long moment, and she breathes him in, tries to memorize the feel of his hand running up and down her back.
"I don't know anymore," she says, breaking the silence. "I don't know how to do this anymore. I feel like I'm a different person every ten minutes, and I can't keep everyone happy all the time. I can't, Nicky." Her voice breaks a little at the end, and she has to swallow, hard, before she can continue. "Sometimes I just want to be normal. I want to have a crush on you, and get back together, and not have touring and shooting and the tabloids between us. I want to act like other sixteen year olds without worrying about someone taking a picture of it."
"And?"
She almost nods, just because he knows her so well. "And I don't want to give this up. Ever. I love so much of what I do, and I love the acting and singing and being famous and living on top of the world. I don't know, Nick. I don't know who I am."
He leans back a little, so that he's looking into her eyes. "I think you're Miley. And the rest, I think you just kind of have to figure out as it comes."
She snorts. "I knew you'd be all logical."
"You and me, Miley…" Nick trails off, and rests his forehead against hers. "There are tours. And there is shooting, and there are tabloids. And for right now, that's not going to change. Just because it isn't easy doesn't mean we can't keep doing what we're doing."
"I know." Miley sighs, and lets herself lean a little closer. "I think Georgia gave me a lot to think about. About what I want, who I want to be. But I know for sure – you have to be involved, Nicky. I don't want to be without you."
He runs his hand along her jaw, and then they're kissing. It has to be okay, she thinks, tilting her head back as he presses her lips against her throat. We'll get through it together, and it has to be okay.
"Come on, Miley. Lay down." Miley pulls herself out of his arms and stretches out on the bed. She watches as Nick pulls a folded blanket from the foot of the bed and drapes it over her, and then turns out the light. She hears him walk around to the other side of the bed and climb in.
"Still get too hot to sleep with covers?" Miley's never understood that quirk of his, and even the thought of it, combined with the cool air conditioning against her wet hair, make her shiver.
"Maybe I'm just naturally hot." He pulls her up against him like it's second nature, and Miley presses her cheek into the curve of his shoulder, letting the heat of his skin flood against her.
"Nick, I really don't think this bed is large enough for you, me, and your ego."
He laughs, and she can feel the vibration of his chest. "Is that any way to talk to your knight in shining armor?"
"Prince Charming" she mutters, but she thinks it might've just been in her head.
"Sleep, Miley" he whispers against her hair, and she falls asleep, dreaming of a porch swing and fireflies, and Nick's arms around her while they stare at the stars.
Other arms reach out to me Georgia,
Other eyes smile tenderly
Still in peaceful dreams I see
The road leads back to you
Georgia,
No peace, no peace I find
Just this old, sweet song
Keeps Georgia on my mind
Georgia On My Mind -- Ray Charles