Er, ello. This is my new story. With chapters. Okay, this is just the prologue, I guess, so yeah. Basically, Lilly and Miley work in a restaurant together, and Oliver is a lawyer. Key: they don't know each other! I know it seems like a Becca/Oliver thingy right now, but don't worry, it turns to Loliver later. Alex Stolar is a person who happens to be a good friend of mine, so now, I own him on this site. Hah. And now, for the disclaimer said by Alex Stolar….

Alex: This is the disclaimer. MaskedHeart, a.k.a. Ruthie doesn't own Hannah Montana at all, even though she wished that she could. She only owns me, and the plot. Kinda.

This is dedicated to Alex Stolar! Kinda. :D

Stolar's Grill, New York City, New York.

"One risotto, four Royal fillets, two yellow fin tuna, six foie gras pork, and one chicken. Are we clear?" Executive chef Alex Stolar barked out into the muggy kitchen, glaring menacingly at everyone.

"Yes," was the hasty reply, except for one terrified blonde in the corner.

What? What did he say? I only heard the word bass. Is that bad, considering Stolar's already mad at me? Whatever, Lilly. You can do this. Just, uh...just get out a pan and cook some sauce. Yeah, sauce. Wait…just how do you cook sauce again?

"Truscott! Get up and cook, before Stolar catches you…again."

Lilly whipped her head around to look at the brunette chopping onions beside her.

"Stewart, do you have any idea what he just said?"

"Truscott, of course! Sweet niblets, did you catch anything?" was the whispered Southern twang answer.

"Uh, I got the word bass."

A soft sigh was heard, and Miley finished cutting up the onions and swiftly swept them into a sizzling pan.

"Okay, you only have to do one thing, since you're at starter. Cook the risotto."

Lilly gave a squeak. "I sucked at risotto in culinary school! I only just barely made it on the last day, and that sucked too! It tasted like dishwater."

A worried look crossed Miley's face.

"Truscott, just how exactly do you know how dishwater tastes like?"

"Main Station! How many minutes?"

"Two minutes, Chef." Miley hastily answered. She quickly turned back and started to defrost the tuna.

"Stewart, how are you going to cook a main dish in two minutes?"

Her face rigid, concentrating on the pan. "If I hurry."

"Let me help! I can…uh."

"Truscott, it's okay. Just go cook your risotto."

"Starter! How many minutes?"

"Uh…two minutes, Chef."

"Impressive, Truscott."

Did Stolar actually not give me a glare? Wow, that's a record! Sweet. Wait, oh crap. Crapola. I still need to make the risotto. Oh, crap. Oh, CRAP. Okay, Lilly. Risotto…it's made out of rice, and…sauce, right? I think. Just get out a pan. Put some oil in it. Okay, done. Put in some garlic and onions, right? Right. You know, this is pretty easy!

"Starter, minutes!"

"One minute, Chef!" Why isn't the pan sizzling? Oh well, I guess it has to heat up or something.

"Main, up to the plating station." To Lilly's amazement, Miley swept by her, a smug look on her face. Wow, I guess Miley CAN cook a dish in two minutes.

Okay, the pan still isn't sizzling. Or even remotely warm. Wait…oh no, it's not even on! Oh no, Stolar will kill me. I can still make it. Just put on your acting face, Lilly!

"Truscott, your risotto to the plating station!"

"Yes Chef."

Just…take the pan. Pretend it's hot. Okay, put on your anxious face. Now, put your finger on the pan an-

"OW! Ohmigosh, this hurts so much! OW, OW, OW!" Lilly dropped the pan, her face scrunched up, and tears running out of her eyes.

"Truscott!" Two voices cried out. Miley was running toward her, a look of pure concern on her features. Alex Stolar swiftly walked to her, some annoyance hidden in his blue eyes.

Miley wasn't looking when she tripped over a cart full of pots and pans, and a deafening crash sounded, startling everyone. Sous chefs jumped, spilling the food. Customers became quiet, peering curiously at the kitchen. Waiters screeched as the hot food they had been carrying soaked into their uniforms. Miley was unconscious, draped over a stew pot. Lilly forgot about her 'burn' and rushed to her friend.

"Miley? Miley, wake up! Miley?"

Lilly Truscott didn't know it, but this was the start of something new...

2:54 P.M., Thor and Dewitt Law Firm, New York City, New York.

Becca Weller sat primly at her desk, manicured fingernails tapping away at her computer.

"Hey, Becca? Could you get me a coffee, please?" A low, tired voice sounded from the cubicle beside her.

"Sure. Do you want any cream or whatever?"

"Nah, just regular black coffee."

Becca inwardly shuddered, and made herself smile. Black coffee was disgusting. That's why Starbucks existed in the world…seriously. "Sure thing!" she chirped, and pushed herself away from the computer.

"Thanks."

Her high heels were muffled by the grey, boring carpet. She walked over to a small room, and let herself in. Flicking on the light, she got out a paper cup and poured in the coffee, grimacing at the sight. Sighing, she got out a plastic lid and faintly wondered if the firm recycled them. Probably not.

She couldn't believe she actually wanted to be a secretary when she was little. It sucked. It was boring.

Closing the door behind her, she swiftly walked out, her eyes closed as she yawned.

"Hey!"

Becca opened her eyes, but it was too late. Heads stuck out of their cubicles, and gasped collectively.

A loud splashing sound was heard, and she winced in fear. She had just spilled coffee on Oliver Oken. Oliver Oken, who happened to be a very excellent lawyer. Oliver Oken, who happened to be glaring at her. Oliver Oken, who happened to be studying her face curiously. Oliver Oken, who happened to be grinning slightly, and helping her up.

"I'm so, so sorry! I totally didn't mean to spill coffee on you, I mean, seriously! And especially black coffee. Black coffee is disgusting! I mean, Howard wanted it though, so it's not mine, but I still didn't mean to spill it, and especially on you! Oh G-d, I'm so sorry…it's all my fault."

"Hey, it's alright. Becca Weller, right?" he grinned at her, flashing his white teeth. She blushed, and ducked her head.

"Yeah. Uh, listen, I have to head back to my desk now."

"Sure." He looked carefully at her face, and smiled wider.

Becca Weller didn't know it, but it was the start of something that she would regret. A lot.

I know that there are some typos in this, but…yeah. Constructive criticism would be appreciated! I mean, constructive criticism is NEEDED! Please? I think I saw teeny High School Musical references in there. First one to guess who the characters are in the law firm name gets virtual cookies!