Chapter Three

"She's trying to be brave, but we all know she's in lot of pain."

"I'm really sorry, D." I murmur. I'm on the phone with Demi who's at the hospital. "How's your sister holding up?" I ask. Demi has just one sister; Taylor. She's older than us by a year.

"I don't know. She doesn't talk about it, and she barely comes out of her room when we're at home."

"She's dealing with it in the only way she can."

"But she's shutting us out, Miley. That's not really a good thing considering there is a big chance our mom dies!"

I sigh. "Demi, don't talk like that."

"Look, Miley fuck being positive. My mom has cancer. Life sucks. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna shut myself in my room and won't talk to my family. They need me, Miles and I as sure as hell need them."

"I wish I could give you a big hug." I say sadly.

"I wish you could, too." She replies and I know she has tears in her eyes. There's been a lot of tears involved in the last few weeks. Besides, she's not the only one.

"How's Dorset?" she asks.

"It's okay." I reply. My heart aches to tell her about Nick, but I don't feel that I can. Not after the way her voice breaks every few minutes.

"How is she?" My mom asks when I return downstairs, holding the phone in my hand. I fill her in.

"Poor thing," she empathises. "Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah," I nod, unable to keep the corners of my lips from turning upwards.

"You like him, don't you?"

"Might do." I reply, looking down.

"Shame about his family," my mom comments. "They don't sound very nice."

"Mmm," I grab an empty cup from the cupboard and go over to the stove. The flavour of vanilla and strawberry tea comes to my nose when I take off the lid. "I'm not keen on them either. Neither is Nick, for that matter."

"Oh well," my mom says. "At least we're only here for six weeks."

My heart plummets. Six weeks felt like an age on the car journey down here –now it's nowhere near long enough.

"What do you mean, at least?" I ask her.

"Well, it's not like you're going to fall for him, is it? He's hardly going to be a permanent part of your life. Imagine dealing with his family! From the look on his father's face when he gave me the change, it was like he thought he'd burst an artery just by cracking a smile..."

I'm not really listening to her rant, because I'm still thinking about the falling-for part. It doesn't seem like such a slim possibility to me anymore.


By ten fifteen am next morning, I'm sitting out on the bench trying to read some stupid university book. Mom was a bit disturbed when she discovered I was seeing Nick again so soon, so I promised to take a couple of books with me on our walk.

I may stay at the cliffs and do some reading if Nick has to get back to the diner.

Elvis appears at the gate before Nick does, but I force myself to calmly pack my book into my bag before going to meet him.

"Thought I'd do some reading at the cliffs," I explain, sliding my bag over my shoulder.

"What are you gonna study?" he asks as we set off down the same track path.

"English Lit. It'll probably be dead boring if Shakespeare is anything to go by."

"I'm sure you'll have a good time no matter what."

"I hope so."

"Are you excited?" He asks.

"Yes, I kind of am. But I'm nervous too. I haven't spent much time away from home before."

"Where's your dad?" he suddenly asks.

"He's back in London. He's coming tomorrow night for the weekend."

"Oh, well have you got a lot of family things planned?"

I shrug. "No, not really. What are you doing?" I try to act casual, not like I just asked him where he is tomorrow night to know if we'll be meeting again.

"I have to work. Weekends are really busy at the diner."

"Oh, I see." Much as I want to, I can't mask my disappointment.

"You should stop by."

I don't answer him, instead, we leave the track and enter a meadow, and soon we're face to face with that spectacular view.

Today the sea is sparkling like billions of diamonds. I can hear the cry of gulls from the cliffs below.

I turn to Nick. "Do you want something to eat?" I ask. "I brought some snacks."

"Good thinking." He says, so I open my bag and pull out a picnic blanket. "A blanket too? So organised." He teases.

"That's me." I reply with a small smile.

"That's right," he says as he helps me lay out the blanket, "You're a planner."

I push his shoulder, "Shut up," I joke.

"Hey, nothing wrong with that."

He collapses down on the blanket while I get out some crisps and drinks. I also brought a little plastic bowl for Elvis and I pour some water from a bottle into it.

Nick laughs. "Okay, okay, now you're just making me look bad."

I shake my head, but I don't stop the small smile curving my lips up. "Do you have to work today?" I ask.

"Not till this afternoon. It's a good think my parents hired a cook, if they didn't I'd be stuck now at the diner."

"Does that mean you can cook?" I ask, impressed.

"If shaking frozen scampi and chips into a sizzling pan of oil can be called cooking, then yes, I can cook. Otherwise, no."

He pulls over my bag and takes out my book. "So, what are you supposed to be reading?"

"Shakespeare and the Greek Tragedies." He flicks through the pages, then shuts it down and throws the book back into the bag. "Bloody hell, it's like it's written in a foreign language!"

I laugh.

"No, really. I can't understand a bloody word."

"Neither can I , half the time." I smile. "Did you really never want to go to university?"

He thinks for a moment. "I guess I never saw the option. My parents are not academically minded." He says with a rised eyebrow. "So they didn't exactly encourage me, and with all the shit going on with my brother...Well, you can understand why school has never been a priority to me."

"When is your brother getting out of jail?" I ask quietly.

His face hardens. "He's coming up for parole soon. I hope I'll be out of here before that happens."

"Will he come back to live with your parents?"

"Yeah." His reply is curt. "I'll take Elvis down the hill to give you some peace so you can read."

"You don't have to!" I say quickly. Studying is far from my mind at the moment; I'd much rather spend time with Nick. But he and Elvis are already at their feet.

"See you in a bit." He says.

"Okay, thanks." I reply.

I watch them as they walk down the steep grassy path. When Nick is finally out of sight I pick up the book. I sigh. I really can't be bothered by some stupid book right now. But I suppose I should.

I turn around and lie on my stomach, facing up the hill. There's something quite comfortable about it. A seagull flies over my head, high above the ocean, but against the land. It's so close I can hear it's wings flapping.

I try to read. The tall grass around me sways in the breeze. It's so peaceful and quiet. My whole body feels relaxed. The words are in front of my eyes, but they're not going in. I close my eyes for a moment and feel the warm sun on my back.

The next thing I know, Elvis is licking my face.

"No!"

"Elvis!" Nick shouts. I push the dog away, but I'm in hysterics. Nick is halfway up the steep incline, trying to run.

"Sorry," he's panting when he reaches me. He stretches out the bottom of his T-shirt and uses it to wipe Elvis's slobber from my cheeks. I can't stop laughing.

"My gross dog strikes again," he says.

He checks my face with his fingertips to make sure I'm free of slobber. His hands seem to linger. My giggles dissolve and I steadily meet his eyes as butterflies swim into my stomach.

"God, I fancy you." Nick says suddenly, and I know in that moment that he's going to kiss me.

My heart starts pounding ten to the dozen. I tilt my face up towards him and his lips touch mine, gently at first, then deepening to become more passionate. I know it's a cliche, but it's as if fireworks are going all around us. My whole body is tingling like never before.

He pulls away, but stays close. And then an enormous slobbery dog tongue comes out of nowhere to lick my cheek.

"Argh!" I scream again.

"Elvis, get off you crazy dog!" Nick shouts, showing him away. We look at each other and crack up laughing. "Next time I kiss you, I'll make sure he's not around."

"I don't want to wait that long," I say, drawing him near. He's still smiling when his lips touch mine.

Half an hour later, we wander hand in hand, back to cottage. The jittery feeling doesn't leave me and it's blissful. We take our time, but we're home far too quickly.

My mom's car is not in the driveway. "Do you want to, maybe, come in for some lunch?" I ask, hopefully.

"Uh..." he checks his watch.

"My mom is out.." I add.

"Yeah, go on then."

I beam from ear to ear as I lead him to the front door.

"Where do you think she's gone?" he asks, following me inside but leaving Elvis on the driveway. We've closed the gate to make sure he can't escape.

"Probably sitting on a beach somewhere, writing in her little notebook."

"Have you got any of her novels, here?"

"Back in the study room. I'll show you in a bit. Shall I make some sandwiches?"

"Sounds great."

"Ham and cheese? Peanut butter? What do you like?"

"You." He says with a smile, pulling me in for another kiss. He presses me up against the counter and I wrap my arms around his neck. The kiss is over far too quickly. "But I've already told you that," he adds. "Ham and cheese. Let me help you."

We work side by side, and before taking our food out to the garden we pause in the hallway where I see mom's novel.

"I don't really like books, but I can tell this one was a best-seller." Nick says.

"That's all you need to know, in my opinion," I joke.

"Of course, Smartass."

"I prefer Brainiac."

He chuckles and follows me outside to the sunny garden. We sit on the soft, spongy grass and Nick munches into his sandwich. I take a bite of mine, but I'm not very hungry. The winged bugs take up all the room in my stomach.

"I like this cottage." He says.

"It's nice, isn't it? But your diner is at a better location. Do you live upstairs?"

"Yeah."

"You must have an amazing view at the cliffs."

He nods. "My bedroom is the best thing about living there because it faces the fields instead of the car park at the back."

"Is it nosy?"

"I didn't mean it was nosy because of the cars."

"Oh, I know." I smile and he touches my face, his smile almost reaching his eyes.

"It would be nosy if I ever spent any time in my bedroom." He explains. "But I'd rather get outside with Elvis. Anyway, I work most nights, so I'm usually the last one upstairs."

"You work a lot."

"I have to."

"Have you saved much money for that car?"

"It's slowly progressing. They pay me very little money, and then I still have to pay the rent, so it's taken longer than I wanted it to."

"Couldn't you work somewhere else that pays better?"

"Not without moving out and then I'd still have the rent problem. I'll be doing that soon enough. I just have to stick it out for a couple of more months."

I feeling of melancholy engulfs me. I've known Nick for only a few days, but the thought of losing him under six weeks already feels unbearable.

"You're not hungry?" he nods at the sandwich that I've barely touched.

"No," I shake my head.

Nick lies down and pulls me to him for a kiss. Just when our lips are about to touch, the sound of a car in the driveway makes us both jump away from each other.

"My mom must be back."

"I'd better get going." He stands up.

"You don't have to rush off,"

"I should get back. My shift starts in an hour."

"Okay, yeah." I'm disappointed.

He goes out through the back garden to the driveway. I follow him to see my mom trying to open the car door without hitting Elvis. The dog starts to bark with excitement.

"Sorry!" Nick shouts. He seems to do a lot of apologising for his dog. He hurries to the car and grabs Elvis's collar, dragging him away so mom can get out.

"Hello, there!" Mom says, and there's an undercurrent to her tone which is not as pleasant as it usually is when speaking to my friends. It makes me feel nervous. I suppose she's still not over the whole family thing.

"Hi, Mrs...Sorry I don't really know Miley's last name."

"Stewart," Mom and I answer simultaneously. "But you can call me Tish. Did you two have a nice walk?" she asks.

"Yup, it was great." I answer, and Nick keeps quiet and I suddenly realise he's nervous. Although, he's nervous for different reasons, which just endears me to him even more if that's even possible.

"I was just leaving," he says struggling to hold Elvis back.

"I'll see you out!" I say, indicating to the front gate. He goes through and lets go of Elvis's collar. The dog shoots off down the track.

Nick turns back to close the gave, leaving me on the other side. "Are you around tomorrow?" he asks.

"Tomorrow and for the next six weeks." I reply with a smile.

"Five and a half." He corrects me and my heart sinks. "Can I swing by in the morning, again?" He asks, oblivious to my disappointment.

"Sounds good." That's a lie. Tomorrow is too bloody far away.

"Okay, is nine too early?"

"Nope," Six a.m would be better. I'd be happy with five. This evening would be ideal. Actually, if you could just not leave at all, that would be pretty much perfect.

"See you," he glances over my shoulder at mom, who is unpacking the last of her things from the car. He starts to walk away as she heads inside to the kitchen.

"Nick!" I call and he spins around. I becon for him to come back to the gate, and then i lean over the gate. "You forgot something."

He grins and kisses me quickly, then turns to leave.

"Hang on," I grab his arm. "What's your last name?"

"Jonas."

"Nick Jonas." I repeat. It sounds wonderful. My fingers fall away from his bicep into his warm hand as he steps away. "Till tomorrow?"

"Yes." He nods, giving my hand a quick squeeze. Then he's gone.


"You've moved further already," Mom teases when I walk back into the kitchen with a spring in my step.

"You saw that?" I feel my face heat up.

"It was hard not to. I mean, the window is right there." She points to the direction of the sink.

"How was your day?" I change the subject. Thankfully, she lets me.

"Very good, I went down to the beach and relaxed bit."

"Have you done any writing done?" I ask, curious as I take an apple from the fridge. I didn't eat that sandwich.

"Yeah, and you should come with me tomorrow morning. It's breathtaking."

"Uhm, no, I can't." I reply. "Nick's coming to get me at nine."

"Nick again?" Uh-oh, I already know that tone. "Aren't you seeing a bit too much of him?"

"God, Mom, it's only been a few days." I reply huffily. I hate this. I'm eighteen, for crying out loud. She has no right to question me. "I thought you wanted me to make friends?"

"Friends? Is that what you two are?" Her tone is wry.

"Well, you know..."

"I just don't want your university studies to suffer over this."

"It won't. I've got weeks of summer sprawled out before me. I'll get it done." I say, forcing breeziness into my tone.

Mom smiles at me. "I guess you're old enough to know what you're doing."

"I do. Now show me the pages you wrote today!"


The next morning Nick and I return to the cliffs. The jittery feeling has been in my stomach all night and it's even more intense now. I don't want to keep my hands off of him.

He's so warm and perfect. To my amazement he seems to feel the same.

"I could kiss you all day." He says.

"Don't you need to eat?"

"Nope."

"Drink?"

"Nope."

"Sleep?"

"Nope."

"Me neither." I say.

"I really can't get over your eyes," he says, staring at them almost searchingly. "They're the bluest colour of blue."

"I like yours too."

"Boring brown."

"They could never be boring. No, it's more like they have inner light or something. They're dark, but they seem to sparkle."

He laughs.

"Don't be mean!" I cry, whacking him on his arm. "Maybe it sounded corny, but it's true."

"Where are your parents from?" he asks suddenly.

"They're both British, but my grandmother on my mother's side lived in Tennessee back in the days."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but her parents took her to Britain when she was about our age. My grandfather was British."

"I didn't think Miley Stewart sounded very southern."

"No."

"Do you speak Italian?" He suddenly asks me interlacing our fingers together.

I laugh out loud, shaking my head. "God, no. Why?"

"It's my favourite language." He smirks.

"Really?" I giggle. "How come?"

"I like it, I guess."

"That's cute." I whisper.

He looks up, staring into my eyes again. "Maybe you could take it as a subject at university."

I look ahead, thoughtfully. "That's actually a really good idea. They do have an option to take a language module. I'll check it out when I get there." I gaze across at him.

"What?" He takes the end of my hair and starts playing with it.

"Thank you. " I smile. "For the idea."

He shakes his head with amusement. "You are such a brainiac!"

So, Nick Jonas," I say. "When are you coming to visit me in Cambridge?"

"Nick Jonas –you remembered it?"

"I've been practising so I don't trip over it. Nick Jonas, Nick Jonas, Nick Jonas."

"Impressive. Miley Stewart, Miley Stewart, Miley Stewart –actually when you think about it, yours is a tongue-twister."

"Miley Jonas. See that one's easy."

"I'll have to change my name to something more complicated then, before you marry me." He jokes.

A thrill goes through me. I know, I know, I'm getting way ahead of myself.

"Oi, you haven't answered my question."

"About coming to visit you in Cambridge?" he checks. "You might get sick of me by then."

"I doubt it."

"You won't want me cramping your style when you're meeting all these smart known-it-alls."

"I'm absolutely certain that's not going to happen."

"You can't be certain."

"Yes, I can. I don't want to go out with some ponce from Cambridge University. They wouldn't want to go out with me, anyway."

"No guy would ever turn you down."

"Stop it!" I laugh. "How can you say that?"

"You're gorgeous." He shrugs as if it were obvious, even though no one has ever said that to me before.

"I think you're beautiful, too."

"Come here and kiss me."

I do as I'm told.

I can barely take it when he leaves that afternoon. The hours without him drag by like nothing I've ever known. I've never had a crush like this before. And yes, I am calling it a crush, even though the L word has popped into my mind on more than one occasion.

My head tells me it's far too soon to be using words like that, but, God, I like him so much. 'Like' doesn't really cut it. I adore him... I fancy him... None of those phrases do it justice, either. I need him. I'm obsessed by him. That's more like it.

I'm not going to tell him this, though, for crying out loud. I sound like a nutcase and he'd run a bloody mile. I suppose I'm still in the honeymoon period.


A/N: Cause darling it was good never looking down, and right there where we stood was holy ground, tonight I'm gonna dance for all that we've been through, but I don't wanna dance if I'm not dancing with you!
I'm obsessed with Holy Ground by Taylor Swift. It's so rockish. Anyway, you already know that if you're following me on twitter, and if you're not then PM me and I'll send you the link of my account! Thank you for your awesome support, and I hope to get even more reviews than on the last chapter. :) Merry (late) Christmas and Happy New Year!