An: Thanks to IheartORANGE, believeinlove08, lolly4eva, Dinosuarous-rex, .Fan, Princess Cutie, and CatchTheRainbow for reviewing! I also have a lot of story alert, so thanks for taking interest! So my update's about an hour late, I'm sorry. The main part of this chapter is Oliver's first reason/memory with Lilly. Hope you enjoy.

Also, because I was in a little bit of a rush to post the other night, I forgot to add my disclaimer. Honestly, if I owed the characters Lilly and Oliver or had anything to do with Mitchel Musso or Emily Osment...would I REALLY be sitting her typing this? Just give it a thought before you sue me...

"What?" He asks, opening his eyes.

My eyes open as pick my head up to meet his. "Why me?"

Oliver has the cutest look on his face when he gets confused. His head tilts like an owls and he blinks his deep, brown eyes at me. "What are you talking about?"

My face starts to redden and I become embarrassed. I'm having second thoughts about explaining myself. "N-Nothing. Never mind..."

"No..." He places his hand on my cheek. "You asked me something and I wanna answer you."

We're having an awkward staring moment. This hasn't happened in years. It feels like we're crushing teenagers all over again.

"Well," I sigh. "It's just...I'm just...confused..."

"That's makes two of us." Oliver replies. He's always one to try to save an uncomfortable moment with a laugh.

I know I can't beat around the bush any longer. I come out and say exactly what's on my mind: "What made you chooseme, Oliver? Me? All of our lives you've always picked me. We've been side-by-side, inseparably bonded for years. I've always wonder why...why on earth would you want to be with me when you could have had any girl?"

"What in the world makes you ask that?" He whispers. I sink my head in shame. I can't believe I really asked Oliver that question. He must think I'm an idiot.

"I don't know..." Now my eyes are starting to water, but he can't see that. I'm ruining the best night of my life. How can I be so stupid?

"I always thought you knew." Oliver answers. He tilts my chin up with his pointer finger. "But if you really want to know, I can tell you."

There's a knot growing in my throat. I swallow at it as I choke back tears. "Please..." I beg softly.

"Let me ask you something first." He says. "Do you remember preschool?"

I'm still trying to regain my composure so I nod faintly for a response.

I feel Oliver sit up in his bed. The box spring creaks and cracks.

"Well," Oliver clears his throat quietly. "That's when it all began."

"The crayons?" My voice cracks. Oliver nods.

"Yes, my dear. The crayons..."

I am standing in the doorway my preschool classroom pouting. It's my first day, and I don't want leave the comfort of my mother's side. "But Mommy! I don't wanna go to school!"

"All girls and boys have to go to school, honey." She explains, brushing my hair from my face. "And it's only for a few hours."

"No!" I continue to whine. "Don't leave me alone!"

"You won't be alone." She squats down to my level. "See that little boy sitting over there?"

My mother points to a short boy with floppy brown hair sitting at a table in the corner by himself. He has on khaki cargo shorts and lime green shirt with a skateboard on it. His Spiderman sneakers light up from the sides as he taps his foot against a table leg. Staring at a piece of white paper with a pencil in hand, the boy seems to be concentrating on drawing something.

"That's mommy's friend Nancy's little boy." She explains. "You remember Mrs. Oken?"

"Yeah." I sniffle. My nose is stuffy from crying.

"Go sit with him." She suggests. "He'll be your friend."

I look over at the boy at once more then back to my mom. "Ok..." I concede. My mother gives me a hug and kiss and nudges me inside the classroom.

I stand still for a few minutes. Looking around the room, I see a handful of kids running all over the place. Most of the girls are playing with dolls. Most of the boys are chasing those girls and ripping the heads off their dolls. None of that looks fun to me. I think I really am going to sit with the little brown haired boy. Slowly, but surely, I make my way to his table.

"...Hi..." I say cautiously.

The boy stops drawing and looks up at me. "Hi!"

"Whatcha doing?" I ask after a short pause.

"Drawing a spaceship." He explains, going back to his work.

"Cool." I reply. I'm just standing there like a statue. I don't know what I'm supposed to do next. How does one go about making friends?

"You wanna draw with me?"

Finally the silence is broken. I nod and take a seat in the vacant chair next to him.

There's an extra sheet of paper and a pencil on the table. I grab them and place the paper in front of me.

"What you gonna draw?" He asks me.

I stop and think for a few seconds. "Flowers." I reply. "My name is a flower."

"Your name's flower?" The boy raises an eye brow at me. It's the first time I've seen his whole face. He's got brown eyes and a dorky smile.

"No!" I giggle. "It's a kind of flower! My name's Lilly!"

"Lilly." He repeats. "That's a pretty name."

"What's yours?"

"Oliver!" He replies cheerfully and proud. "Oliver Oscar Oken!"

"Oliver!?" I do my best not to laugh, but I'm only four. That's not an easy task. "That's silly!"

"You're silly, Lilly!" Oliver shouts at me.

"No, I like your name." I tell him. "It's like the vegetable...olives!"

"You like those?" Oliver asks curiously.

"I think I've had them before." I reply.

"I got an idea!" Oliver exclaims. "You draw lilies and I'll draw olives!"

"Ok!"

I know I am named after the flower, but I've never actually seen a lily. In all reality, I end up drawing a daisy, but to Oliver and me, it's a lily.

"That looks real pretty." He praises my artwork. Oliver holds up his. "Mine's just a bunch of circle thingies around my spaceship..."

"I like it!" I say. "I wish we had some crayons..."

"I have some!"

Oliver bends down and reaches in his open backpack beside him on the floor. He rummages around for a second or two, then pulls out giant box of crayons.

"Whoa!" I say in awe. "Is that the Sixty-four pack!?"

"Yep!" Oliver nods. "And look at this!"

Oliver spins the box around to the back. Before he can open his mouth, I squeal out an "eep" of joy.

"The sharpener! You got the Sixty-four pack with the sharpener!"

"Sure do!" He replies and opens the flap. My eyes widen at the vast array of colors.

"Wow! That's so cool!" I exclaim. "Can I use it, Oliver!?"

"I don't know..." He says shakey. "They're brand new. I don't want them to wear down."

"That's why you have the sharpener!" I shout.

"You'll break them." He says firmly.

"No, I won't, Oliver! I promise!"

I watch as Oliver takes out a darker shade of blue from the pack and begins to color the body of his spaceship.

"I can't leave it like this!" I fight. "Have you ever seen a black and white flower!?"

Oliver returns the blue crayon to its proper place and chooses a bright yellow to color the stars in the sky.

"Are you listening to me!?"

No, he's not. Oliver's ignoring my every word. My mom said that this boy would be my friend. Instead, he's being a jerk.

I let out a frustrated sigh and slouch back in my chair. My arms are folded across my chest and I'm staring down at the dull flower. I shift my eyes to the box and then to Oliver. "Can I at least use orange?"

I watch as Oliver stops coloring with the yellow crayon. He looks over at the box and runs his finger over the different choices of orange. His finger lands on the regular shade. Slowly, Oliver lifts the crayon from its holder. I smile at him and stick out my hand.

"I need to color the flame orange." He says and turns away in his seat.

Right now, I don't know whether to scream or cry. A mixture of hurt feelings and frustration swirl within me. I really want that crayon. I need that crayon. How do I get him to give it to me?

Oliver is in deep concentration as he colors. His tongue peaks out from the corner of his mouth slightly. He has one hand laying flat on the table to hold down his paper.

I'm not entirely sure how, but my brain hatches a plan that's way advanced for the average preschooler. I know what will work:

I grab a hold of Oliver's free hand with mine own, lacing our fingers together...

The second we touch, Oliver drops the crayon. It rolls down the table and lands with a soft thud on the floor. He slowly turns his head and focuses on our hands. His eyes glue to that sight. Our hands never move: we are still. Eventually, Oliver picks his head up and looks at me. I've got a smile on my face as I try to cover a small fit of giggles.

"I knew it'd work." I praise myself.

"Wha...What are you doing?" He asks nervously.

"Holding your hand, dummy!" I announce.

"Why?" Oliver's eyes widen.

"My mommy says that when you like someone, you hold their hand."

"Oh..." Oliver begins to turn red in the face. "You're the first girl to hold my hand...other than my mommy."

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Neither of us knows what to say or do next.

"Lilly?"

"Yeah?"

"Does your tummy feel funny?" He asks me.

"Yeah...a little..." I reply. "Does yours?"

"A little." He says. "I think that's the butterflies."

"What?" It's my turn to be confused.

"My mommy says when you like someone, you get butterflies in your tummy."

"Oh..." Is all I can say.

I think long and hard about what Oliver said. I have butterflies inside me? Oliver has them, too? How did they get there?

"Lilly?" Oliver says my name.

"Yeah?"

"Here..." He hands me the orange crayon with a smile. "Color your pretty Lily."

"Thanks." I smile back at him. I go to remove my hand from his, but Oliver won't let go of it. I try to pull away three times, but nothing works. Finally, I look over at him.

"Can I have my hand back, Ollie?" I didn't realize what I had called him until he gives me a funny look. "Oliver's too long to say. I like Ollie better."

"Leave it there, Lil...Lills." Oliver makes up his own nickname for me. "I...I kinda like it..."

"I kinda like it, too." I say.

We both stare at our hands and blush. Oliver turns away to look over his drawing. I begin to color in my flower. We both have big smiles on our faces. School's not so bad after all...

"I was starting to think you'd never give it to me." I adjust myself so I'm sitting back on my legs.

"I never thought you'd hold my hand just so I would." He replies.

I lean in close to his face. "You were being quite the butthead that day." Gently, I tap the side of his noise with my pointer finger like I'm scolding a puppy.

"I admit it now." Oliver says. "But I changed my mind, didn't I?"

" 'Cause I grabbed that sticky, lollypop- covered hand of yours." I say smug.

"Or so you think..." Oliver trails. "You didn't notice, but I watched you sulk in your seat. All it took was once glace at your sweet, innocent little face and your heart being broken for me to I fall under your spell. I had to share my crayons with you."

"Really?" I ask in slight disbelief.

"I couldn't see you sad like that, honey." Oliver puts both hands on the sides of my face. "Then, you held my hand, and I got the butterflies. You're the first and only one to ever give me butterflies." He caresses my cheek with his thumb. "I've had them ever since…"

I stare down at his face. He has the look like he wants me to kiss him and expect all my doubts to vanish.

But it's not that simple...

Writing my own take on that fateful day in preschool that we Loliver shippers love was quite a task. I've seen so many different versions. Mine's probably not the best, but it's a spin. I'm not sure when the third chapter/second memory will be posted. If you've read my profile, you know I go to school for music production. I'm going to be in the studio recording this week and next, but I promise to update as soon as I can. Leave your thoughts and keep reading!

Marissa
drummer8907