Oliver and I sit at our regular lunch table. He's sipping on green tea and using chop sticks to pop bits of sashimi and mini rice balls into his mouth. He alternates dipping the raw fish in wasabi and soy sauce. I don't think he chews his food. I just poke at my plate, sulking over the ever-expanding hole in my chest, and whether or not I'd ever earn a respite from it. Ick. Does that sound emo, or what? "Oliver," I sigh, reluctant but desperate for the assurance only a best friend can provide. My voice is a whisper. "I think I'm building a tolerance to sex. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me! I hate to sound like an uninspired cliche, but there's this void inside. Does that sound stupid?" I'm sure my expression conveys utmost seriousness, but Oliver just laughs and wipes imaginary tears from his eyes.

"Good one," he says, signaling a cafeteria server over with obnoxious finger snaps. The woman scurries to our table with her cart, and Oliver picks out two saucers. She looks intimidated. Most of the workers do. "What's this?" he asks, holding the dish close to his nose.

"I believe that's sea urchin."

Oliver shrugs, and lifts it into his mouth. "That's not bad," he mumbles, fishing out another piece.

I'm glowering at him, but between the sea urchin, eel, and whatever fuck else sea creature he's swallowing down, he's paying me no mind. "I'm serious." Fuck it. "You're a shitty best friend, you know that? I come to you in my time of crisis, and you laugh at me. Real encouraging, Oken. You can go right ahead and keep stuffing your face. I need a smoke."

Fuck Oliver. That's my mantra as I suck down the cigarette. The idiot tried running after me to apologize, but I didn't want his second hand pity so fuck Oliver it is. I don't feel like sticking around for the rest of my classes. I climb into my car, and take my cigarette to-go. I take the lazy scenic route all the way to my Aunt Lucille's estate. She's got an impressive vinery and a world-class stock of horses on her property. Aunt Luce is a sweet older woman with a penchant for young foreign men. She keeps them employed as ranch hands, servers, gardeners, pool boys, you name it.

I pull up beside the water fountain at the center of her driveway. Her house looks like an old plantation. It's a pristine white color, and loaded with mammoth columns. Georgio, her favorite employee sees me and waves. He's shirtless and hanging off a ladder, shearing hedges.

I push past the French doors and wander around, looking for anyone that knows where I can find my Aunt. Before long, I'm in the kitchen. Abbey, resident cook going on two decades, tastes a batch of something on the stove. She catches me and winks. "It's been weeks since you've been around, girl! I just pulled chocolate chip muffins out the oven. Help yourself," she greets me, wrapping me in a hug. She's a round, maternal woman with curly blonde hair and warm eyes. I give her a genuine smile, and help myself to a gooey muffin.

"Thanks, Abbey. Where's Aunt Luce?" I nibble on the sweet treat, and hop onto the marble countertop.

"Showing our guest around."

"What guest?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, girl, I thought you knew," she laughs, and adds a pinch of something to the pot. It smells good. "Miley somethin' or other, you know I ain't too good with names. Aunt Luce is good pals with the girl's pops. She'll be staying here until school lets out."

Great. How many Mileys could there be in the world? The fates were against me. I'm sure Oliver would use this weird coincidence to twist my arm until it snapped. I finish the muffin, and lick a chocolate chip smudge off my finger. "I'm going to go look for her," I grumble, sliding down the counter. Abbey wishes me luck and makes me promise to come back and play a round of card games. I happily oblige. She's been my Mary Poppins figure since I was in diapers.

After scouring a chunk of the enormous property, I realize that my efforts are futile. I'm in the indoor pool area, bone dry and sitting on a floating chair. The pool is Olympic sized and temperature adjustable, but I'm not in the mood for swimming. I just like the ambiance. My eyes are closed, and a record is blasting from the speakers. My hands dip into the water every so often to steer me in one direction or another.

I hear the heavy doors open, along with two sets of footsteps. The noises echo. I don't open my eyes, figuring the intruders will make themselves known. "Lilly!" It's my Aunt's voice. She sounds pleasantly surprised. "Lilly, is that you? Come out of there and give me a hug!"

I crack one eye open, focusing on the two figures ahead of me, and then the other. That Miley girl is standing behind my Aunt. She looks a little timid, but confident at the same time. My eyes take her in. She's absolutely beautiful. Long, flowing brown hair, beautiful legs, and I bet that when I get close enough to see her eyes, they'll be pretty too. I turn my attention back to my Aunt, and give her a big cheesy grin. Too cheesy maybe because Miley looks like she's trying hard to contain an eye flutter. I paddle to the edge of the pool, and carefully climb out.

My Aunt always smells like earthy, anti-aging cream, and this overpowering granny perfume. She buys the stuff in bulk from a Chinese medicine man. It makes my nose tickle, and I almost sigh in relief when she lets me go. She puts one hand on Miley's shoulder, and the other on mine as she introduces us, "Lilly, this is Miley Stewart, Robbie Ray's daughter. You remember him, don't you? In fact, I think you two met when you were little girls," she bites her lip, eyes lighting up with a memory, and laughs, "Yes, I think Lilly threw a fit because you got to ride the pony that she wanted to. She smashed a piece of cake into your pretty dress."

Miley's eyes widen. "The yellow one, with the lace and the ruffles," she gasps.

I grab at the back of my neck, embarrassed, remembering the incident. I got chocolate cake in her pretty curls too. I remember the look on her face. Her big blue eyes had gotten rounder, and slick with tears. I got a dirty feeling as soon as I saw that look. It was the first time I truly felt guilty about any misdeed I'd done. This couldn't be that same little girl? "I was 6," I try to defend myself, even though I really want to apologize.

Miley just laughs after a minute. "I forgive you," she says, good-naturedly, half meaning it, and half joking.

It's crazy, but this girl makes me feel something that I've never felt before, and it unnerves me. I just want to leave, clear my head, suck down a whole box of cigarettes. My Aunt asks me to show Miley around the rest of her house, but I decline, making something up about a school deadline, promising to come back another day. Soon enough, my feet are carrying me away from Miley and those uncomfortable feelings. I start to feel grounded again, and once I'm in the safety of my car, I press my forehead to the steering wheel and laugh.

What the fuck's wrong with me?