A/N: For the sake of this story, Lilly's birthday is in January. I hope that's okay?

Also, this chapter is dedicated to: believeinlove08

It was my birthday; it was my sixteenth birthday and it was the first year in all the years that I knew him that Oliver Oscar Oken would give me a present. And of course, because Oliver was an important part of that day, I remember it just like yesterday.

I awoke to a text from Miley, congratulating me on my special day and inviting me over before school. (I would have stopped by her house invite or no invite.) I searched through my closet for the cutest outfit I could possibly find and raced over to my best friend's house.

Miley greeted me at the door, "Lilly, why don't you sit down for some breakfast?" she laughed, "since apparently I never ask you to on any other day?"

Robby Ray had prepared an amazing breakfast for me—pancakes with a hint of cinnamon, buttered toast, scrambled eggs, and lots of bacon.

"So…" I questioned as I readily grabbed my plate of hot food and took a sip of pineapple orange juice.

Miley huffed a large sigh; she'd known this would be coming. "Yes, Lilly, I talked to him, and I promise he did not forget your birthday and in fact you will love what he bought you. It's very thoughtful and sweet."

I squealed in response and my thoughts raced. What would Oliver buy me?! Would I like it? Of course I would like it right, just because it came from him?

"I don't understand what you see in that boy," Miley continued, "Did you know he has the filthiest mouth? He only controls it around you for, well, your sake."

This only caused my grin to spread, "Aww…he watches what he says for me?"

At this, a small smile crept onto Miley's face, "You two are good together," she admitted, "it's just…weird. I'd rather make fun of him like we used to."

"We'll still make fun of him," I reassured her, "Just…in a different way?"

"Yeah," Miley laughed, finishing up her piece of bacon and grabbing her backpack.

I followed her example and together we boarded the bus for school.

I rushed to first period that morning to meet Oliver, and I don't regret it. He'd saved a spot for me, right next to him, like he always did. He told me happy birthday with the brightest smile, and commented on my outfit even. And then he reached into his backpack to pull out a gift, wrapped in pink paper with a purple bow.

I tore the paper to reveal a small jewelry box, which contained another necklace. This one was silver, and in the shape of a heart, and there was a white pearl in the middle of that heart.

"Do you like it?" Straight away, anxiously, he asked.

I nodded. How could he go wrong with jewlry? "It's so pretty!" I gloated, and then, "Thank you!"

"Good," he replied, placing a hand on my shoulder.

My mistake was waiting until the end of class to hug him. I waited until the bell rang, until he'd already slipped the straps of his backpack over his shoulders and until we would be in a rush to get to our second period classes. If only we'd just hugged while sitting down, in our seats…

"Thank you, again," I smiled. We stood across from each other, in front of the doorway; everyone else had already filed out of the classroom and no one else would be expected to enter for several more minutes.

"You're welcome," He nodded, "And it's your birthday, so you get a hug,"

I leaned forward as he opened his arms to hug him. And it seemed like a very good hug at first...until I tried to pull away from him and couldn't. My arm was caught between his backpack strap and his side!

"Ow!" I cried. "My arm! It's...caught...in your stupid backpack!"

I'm sure we looked like complete idiots as we stood there, with me tugging to get my arm free and with him trying to assist me. When I finally did manage to get my arm untangled from his backpack, all Oliver could do was smile at me and laugh it off.

Seeing him smile was all I needed. Seeing him smile...oddly, it was beginning to become one of those little things that made my day. It was enough, in this particular situation, to realize how quite humorous our most recent attempt at hugging was.

I think, too, that at this point, we were both noticing the patterns of our hugging. That was to say, every time we hugged, something, somehow, went absolutely, painfully, and somewhat (only afterwards) entertainingly wrong.