So, I'm back! This is my first new story in nearly two years (!) and it'll be a multi-chapter. I really intend to update regularly, but sometimes school may give trouble. I have the entire plotline written except for the very end. I hope y'all will like it :3

Disclaimer: I don't and will never own Hannah Montana, its characters, Miley Cyrus or the Jonas Brothers. None of the songs mentioned are mine. Anything/anyone else you may recognise, does not belong to me. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictious and any resenblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Rating: K+, for now. Rating may be changed to T later, but I'll keep it below M-level.

Enjoy and please leave a comment. I very much appreciate constructive criticism (no flames please) but just a little reminder that you're still reading is always nice, too.

Chapter 1

I show the security guard my backstage pass and he lets me through the stage door. I make my way down the halls I've got to know very well over the past weeks. A moment later I'm standing next to the stage, as the boys finish the last song of this set. I quickly check if I look decent. I flatten my hair and straighten my top with my hands. My feet ache a little bit, these boots weren't made for running.

The brothers leave the stage and the oldest two race towards their dressing room immediately, the younger one hands his guitar to someone and comes up to me. His eyes wander over my body very quickly, almost too quick to notice. He leans in to kiss my forehead. "Hey Miles," he greets. "what took you so long?"

"Oh you know," I was giving a concert and my fans demanded three encores, "bad traffic."

He smiles understandingly and excuses himself to his dressing room. Not long after, he and his brothers rush past me again. Kevin and Joe look at me over their shoulders, while they are being wired up. "Hey Miley!"

"Hey Kev, hey Joe!" I can barely finish my sentence before all three of them are ushered on stage again.

I sit down on a stool, close to the stage. I can look at the screen, which shows them perfectly, but spend most of my time staring at Nick every time I could.

Nick and I got together a month or two ago. I met him as Miley when they played a show in LA. We both hung out at the beach one day…

I make my way over the beach, slippers and a towel in my left hand. The hot sand burns under my feet but I like the feeling. It's just past dinner time and it's still warm outside. It's mid-summer and the beach is overcrowded, you can barely take one step without standing on a sandcastle, somebody's towel or a kid. Then suddenly, between all the chaos, is a gap. A boy lies on a beach chair and I decide to walk over. "Hey there," I tell the boy. "is this spot taken?"

I notice the flirtatious tone in my voice, but don't bother to hide it. The stranger is cute and it's been a while since I dated someone. Come to think of it, I haven't even had a real crush since Jake and I split up. Time to get back in action.

The wind plays with my hair, in the distance kids yell at each other. The waves flood the shore and girls in tiny little bikinis try to get as tan as possible. I protect my eyes from the sun with my right hand and take a better look at the boy. His trunks show off most of his body and I have to say he's pretty fit. He got brown/blackish curls and dark sunglasses make it impossible to see his eyes. He seems familiar.

"No, it isn't." The boy answers. He moves his shoes away to make room for me, I sit down.

"So, you look oddly familiar. You don't live around here, do you?" I say after I settle down on my towel. He shakes his head. "Well, then how do I know you?"

He keeps silent for a while and I ask him to take of his sunglasses. I imagine it would be easier to recognize him, but he refuses to take them off. I reach over, and get the surprise of my life when I finally see his eyes.

A couple of hours later Nick and I are still talking. Nick confessed that he had expected me to scream his name and beg for an autograph as soon as I found out who he was, he was pleasantly surprised when I didn't. What he doesn't know, is that I've met him before. I've met him as Hannah Montana and we even sang a song together, but that's years ago. He did call me pretty though.

Nick and I are still talking, we started with how unlike most of his fans I am and then we passed every subject we could think of. "Are you cold? Maybe we should get inside." I hadn't been able to hold a shiver down. I was afraid it would end our night, but when he said 'we' should get inside he made it sounds as if we're together. I can't say I wouldn't like that.

"Maybe we should."

It all started from there. We got together fairly quickly and up till now the paparazzi wouldn't leave us alone. We'd grown closer and I wanted to tell him about my being Hannah Montana, but didn't know how to bring the subject up –after all, we'd only known each other for a few weeks.

Every time I try to tell him, I keep stopping myself at the last minute. I trust him, but I don't even know if we're going to last. I only told Jake after months and I told none of my other boyfriends. Nick and I are pretty serious, but telling him so soon? Bad idea.

From where I'm standing, I can see him jumping around stage. I like the way he puts his all into his music, much like his brothers. There's just something about him that makes me unable to not like him.

The girls in the crowd go wild, screaming as loud as they can when Joe takes off his jacket. I smirk at the way he shows off his muscles in the white wife-beater he's wearing. Typical. The girls scream even louder when Kevin does one of his famous 'guitar-spins'. Nick sits behind the piano and I could swear a girl nearly faints when he winks in her general direction.

These girls are so insane, they barely even know them but they claim to be in love with them. It's pretty stupid, actually. They know the basics about them –favorite color, childhood memories, that kind of things- but they don't know about their dreams, hopes and expectations of life. They don't know that Kevin is planning on proposing to his girlfriend, that Joe can bake very well but doesn't tell anyone because it's not "manly", that Nick has a girlfriend who's secretly Hannah Montana - but then again, Nick doesn't know that either – they know nothing about them. Fan girls are really just superficial little bitches; they choose who to "love" based on looks and a nice voice. And on top of that, they also can be really mean when their idols get girlfriends. They would do anything to tear them apart, because it'd mean they have a chance of being with their idol.

"I love you!" screams a fan. Joe blows her a kiss.

I remember doing that myself. Just a few hours ago, a little girl had screamed that she loved me. I was just finished singing Are You Ready and blew her a quick kiss before singing the next song. My fans also don't really know me, do they? I was a hit, my label promoted me very well. Maybe my fans only like me because everyone does, maybe they just like the way I look.

No, I can't afford to think like that.