Sorry for the wait, school is kind of eating up time. But here's chapter two!

I do not own Hannah Montana, The Walt Disney Company does. I don't own the lyrics of the song recited in this chapter. I don't own That 70's Show or The Real World, either.

Two – The Middle

'And I don't wanna be nowhere
Something's makin me go there
Somewhere in the middle with you'

Something tickled my forehead, dragged up into my hairline. They were fingers, sweeping through my scalp.

God, I love when people play with my hair.

I guessed the person those fingers belonged to was my mom. She always does this when I'm sick in bed, or injured, in bed, or depressed, in bed. Plus, she's the only one home.

"Mom," I mumbled in a scratchy, groggy voice, "can I have some tea?"

It was so quiet in my bedroom, I could hear her take a breath to talk, but then I heard a girlish giggle.

"Sure you can Lils, but I'm pretty sure I'm not your mom…"

I flipped around, the voice coming from behind me.

And my eyes met Miley, with her wavy brown hair all tangled and pulled loose, the strap of her hot pink tank top slipping down her shoulder, and a smile with a quirked, mocking brow. Her quilt was on top of us; around us were the walls and furniture of her bedroom.

I opened my mouth to ask how I got here, but then I realized how much searing pain I felt, on my head, in my throat, and I suddenly forgot the question.

"Lay down, don't work yourself up… I'll get you tea, stay right there."

She threw off the covers and got up to stretch.

And I don't know why, like I really have no clue what made me, but I happened to have my eyes level with her waist from my place on the bed, and watched as the hem of her shirt rose to reveal the curve of her hip bones and her smooth, tan skin.

And something about the finishing, strenuous groan she made as her muscles relaxed hit me somewhere low. It twisted, and jumped, and then I was just hot all over.

Top three weirdest moments of my life? Uh, yeah, that made the cut.

-

After that strange, strange beginning of a morning, I fell asleep again while Miley was making the tea.

I realized when I woke up how comfy the pillow I was laying on felt. I snuggled deeper into it, and breathed in. It smelled like Miley, actually, which didn't smell too bad.

In fact, Miley smells great. Like… wow, what is it?… Kind of orange-y, and jasmine-y and like whatever fabric softener she uses. Hm. I never noticed that before.

I still hadn't opened my eyes. My own breathing was sluggish, deep and slow. It was relaxing. I concentrated on it, until I felt something under me moving in a rhythm of its own…

Uh, wait…

I opened my eyes slowly, and the fabric of Miley's shirt and the sight of her long hair flooded my vision.

….Awkwarddd…

I slowly tried to untangle my arms from around her, and lift myself up carefully.

"Hey, you're up."

"Mmph—yeah, uh…" I didn't mean to be so embarrassed, but my eyes popped out of my head anyway.

"Yeah, you kind of… fell asleep on me… Here…"

We shifted around awkwardly, and I happened to reposition myself as far as possible from Miley that I could without falling off her bed.

A few quiet seconds passed. The room was dark now; the last light of the day was setting with the sun outside the window up on the room's balcony level.

I noticed the TV was on and sound. She must have been up and watching it…

…Why didn't she just push me off of her? I couldn't help but wonder.

Before I could find an answer, Miley said, "The doctor let us know you're okay, just some bruising and slight swelling. No brain damage… so he said…." She grinned maliciously.

"There was a doctor? Wait, why am I here? Not that I don't love it here at the Stewart residence, but.." I ignored the comment. For now.

"Oh, right, your mom missed her flight back from Detroit, and we told her you could stay with us. She'll be home Sunday morning."

I nodded and turned to the T.V. That 70's Show was on.

"So… how do you feel? Need anything?"

I was still looking at the TV, but I could feel my face narrow into a small incredulous look.

The way Miley was acting… It was so… Well, not strange, but just hearing her offering to do things… I mean, usually her mom-act consists of yelling at me for not doing homework, or not studying, or overworking myself, it's more so anger…. But this was kind of nice. Aside that, when she's not mom-ing me, usually, 'Lilly, could you pleeease do this,' 'Lilly could you pleeeease get me that,' 'Aw, but Lils, I'm so comfyyy…'.

This was sweet.

I chuckled. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though."

"'How's your head?"

I giggled again. I turned to her. "Miley, you heard the doctor. I'm fine."

"Yeah, but he said—"

"He said I was alright. You don't have to do anything for me."

Miley sighed, defeated. I have to say, I've never seen her like this.

I looked at her. Her lips pouted slightly. Even though we were fifteen, she still managed to act a little childish when she didn't get her way. It was just natural for her, though.

I smiled. "Well, actually, I could use a toothbrush, now that you mention it…"

-

"Here, Lils, lemme fix those pillows for ya'…"

I can't get used to Miley tending my every need… and my every not-need. It's not that it's annoying; because it's not, it's really sweet of her… It's just, it's not Miley. Plus, it's not like I was paralyzed or anything—I could do it myself, honestly. I really never could stand it when people babied me.

It was two mornings after I woke up and found myself at Miley's. I fell asleep about an hour into the Real World marathon we were watching.

She came around to my side of the bed, and motioned for me to lean up so she could fix the pillows. I was confused by the movie we were watching, and turned to her to ask her a question;

And was greeted by a view down her tank top. I was about to tell her to tuck her girls in, before I was overcame by this hot flash. I could even feel the blood rush to my face; I could feel the beads of sweat simmer beneath my skin…

I tried to glance away from her chest, but then my eyes landed on her collar bones, as they lifted and rotated under her skin. I couldn't help but wonder how someone could even have gorgeous collar bones…

"Uh, Miley, hey, I'm kind of warm in here—"

"Say no more, I'll get you some water. Stay right…" she was out the door before I could hear her say 'there'.

Miley was a pretty girl. She was Hannah-frickin'-Montana, for god's sake, of course she was attractive!

Really, she is a natural southern belle. Even though she is a natural southern belle turned Californian. Whatever, she can work it.

The long, brown hair… the tan skin, bold blue grey eyes, full, pretty lips, her raspy voice. And the southern accent, god…

And she's grown up since we were kids, of course. She really shot up; long legs, slender figure. Every inch of Miley Stewart is beautiful.

….And it's perfectly normal for people to have internal monologues about how gorgeous their best friends are.

Mmhm.

Miley was back with the water, ice cubes and all. She also brought an ice pack that I let her put on the decreasingly sore lump on my head.

I didn't realize that my heart was beating in my throat until I finished the glass.

'Crash, fall
I like it, I like it
Somewhere in the middle with you'

-"The Middle," Demi Lovato

-

Mhm, I know its short, but I think the next few will be pretty long. Let me know what you think so far.