AN: No slash this chapter. I hope you're not getting sick of anyone though...hint, hint, wink, wink… This one's gonna be a bit more angst-filled but that can be fun sometimes. Now, why has no-one told me firefighters or cops yet? Personally, I'd rather date a firefighter. Mostly because there was this amazingly hot one at school today and I'm basing it on him. And thanks for last chapter, I'm glad some of you liked it…Even if I didn't. I'm sorry this isn't my usual seven am update, my internet at home was being screwy. I'm also sorry I don't have time to individually respond to you reviewers today, I love you, but my next class starts in five. So without further ado…

Kiss 4: Pyro

Ever since my long talk with Aunt Dolly about how not waiting until marriage doesn't necessarily make you a bad person, I'd been planning this. At first at had started with the snow. It never snowed in California and it had always seemed so romantic to me in movies, a fluffy white blanket of love to fall into. Slowly the rest of the plan had fallen into place after that.

There were red roses petals scattered across the room, like Ashley and Craig in Degrassi. Then I had candles lit all over the room to provide the beautiful dim flicker−inspired by Monica's marriage proposal to Chandler in Friends. There was the dreamy foreign appeal provided by the crisp air and buzzing traffic of New York City in the winter, as opposed to the warm lazy beaches of Malibu.

All that was left to do was get myself ready physically and then call him. I took my time with the thick, curling iron and bottle of spray. I wanted to make sure that all my ringlets matched perfectly, glossy and spiraling down to the middle of my back. Then I looked through the clothes I'd bought, ranging from raunchy to prim and proper. I tossed a red thong and see-through bra aside, despite going with my color scheme they didn't exactly scream respect me as a woman. I dug through a boring pink and white nightgown and a pair of flannel pajamas I'd brought just in case and found my personal favorite. In a silky purple-and-black fabric was a beautiful corset and boy shorts pairing. It was strapless, with little tiny stars down the sides of the top and all of over the bottoms. Paired expertly with some fishnets and thin Jimmy Choos, it fit my body snugly but not tightly enough to be straight out slutty. I looked at myself in the mirror and held my breath. I'd never looked so mature, never again would anyone mistake me for being two years too young.

I called him from the hotel, he was still at work. He'd be back soon, just watch TV until he got there. I smiled to myself. He had no clue what he was in for. I idled nervously around, trying to read but I kept glancing at his alarm clock to find hardly any time had passed at all. So I went into the bathroom and reapplied my make-up and spritzed myself all over with some Vanilla scented body spray. I thumbed through his planner, blushing every time my name came up with a little heart next to it. Then I just sat at his desk, watching the door and waiting for him.

The knob turned and I jumped up, smiling coyly at him, "Miley," He breathed, taking in me and then the room. "You did all this for me?" His brown eyes softened as he stared at me adoringly, taking my warm hands in his cold ones.

"Of course," I whispered, leaning in to give him a tender kiss and leading him back to the petal-covered bed. He returned it eagerly, I knew he's been waiting for this moment practically since we'd become more-than-friends, but he was so respectful of the fact that I wanted it to be special. His hands worked their way up my back, working with the zipper of the corset top. I pulled back for a second before he could take it off. "I love you," I looked into his beautiful eyes and saw such pain, I winced. "You don't love me." I stated, biting my lip to hold back the tears.

"No," He said softly, and the tears spilled. I couldn't help it, the only boy I'd ever loved and he didn't love me. "No!" He yelled it this time, advancing towards me. "I do love you, I love you so much." Little droplets scattered down his perfect cheeks. "That's what makes this so hard."

I looked up at him, eyes wide. His perfect America's Sweetheart face wasn't broken into its signature grin, instead his features had regret and self-hate written all over them. His brown eyes were no longer smug and twinkling but sorry and pleading. His soft blond hair was wet from the stupid snowfall and chapping to his forehead. "You cheated on me…?" I didn't want it to be true no matter how much it obviously was. I wanted him to fight for me. I wanted him to tell me that he loved me and he didn't want to compromise me this way until I was his to compromise, until we were each other's in God's eyes and our family's and our friends'. He didn't though. He told me the truth.

"I never wanted to hurt you," He said instead, trying to wipe my tears away with him thumbs but I shrugged away. "I never wanted anything like this, since the day we met. You were always too good for me. Always." He started choking out the words, hugging his knees to his chest as he crashed to the floor, "I should have known I couldn't change, but I wanted to, so badly for you."

I looked at him, the Golden child of fame, and I thought about how ironic it was to have him crying on my floor like this, so brittle and broken. So alone. Then I made a mistake, I let my curiosity get the better of me, "Who is she Jake?" Please don't be Mikayla, I willed. If it was anyone but her I'd be able to forgive him, I told myself. I could make him change.

His wounded eyes met mine. "It doesn't matter," He said quietly, looking at the floor. Of course, this only confirmed that it most definitely did matter.

"You love her," I sobbed, a huge lump rising in my throat. "Don't you?"

He bit his lip, staring at the wall. And then, "Yes."

I started bawling, cheating was one thing. Love was another. He cradled me in his arms, burying his face in my hair. And repeating "I'm sorry," over and over again. I let myself cry to him, let him comfort me. Let myself be the weak one for once, I was so tired of solving everyone else's problems, having everyone else be so happy because I fixed everything for them and still being so lonely. I stopped hours later, and we just sat there until midnight. And then he left. He didn't even take his things as he walked out into the slushy, rain-like snow.

Not long after came a knock on the door, and I wiped my streaked face off with a washcloth and put on a complimentary hotel robe. No-one was going get a picture of Miley like this for the Us Weekly with a title like Jiley Breakup! What went wrong? As I opened the door, I didn't see some buzz hungry reporter though, I saw Oliver.

"Where's Jake?" He demanded, slamming the door open with such force you would have thought he was Lilly. He looked quickly around the main room before going into the bathroom and screaming in frustration. "Where is that rat bastard?"

I sniffled slightly, had everyone known but me? "He left," I told him, taking a seat on the bed. The candles were still all that was lighting the room and I began burning the stupid roses one by one with them.

"He told you?" He asked, glancing around once more before sitting next to me and tempting a tall white candle with the red petal. The flame danced back in his eyes as he watched it go.

I nodded solemnly, resting my head against his shoulder. "How long have you known?" I questioned, I wanted to know everything he knew…especially if it concerned who she was.

"Just today," He muttered, offering up yet another petal. He was so focused it was scary…almost like he wanted to knock it over and let the room engulf him in flames. I know he's got some beef with firefighters but I never took him as a pyromaniac before.

My head hurt suddenly, how could he have just found out today…Jake had been on set all day with Vanessa Hudgens and then he'd just come to be with me, hadn't he? I'd read his datebook. "Oliver," I mumbled hesitantly, "How do you know?"

"Lilly told me," My heart sank so much further than I knew possible, and I felt myself starting to hyperventilate. LT…Suddenly it made sense. I'd thought it had been something he used for a movie business abbreviation. Never in a million years would I have thought of her, but it had appeared so many goddamn times in that book. No hearts, no nothing, but he still loved her. My stomach churned, he loved Lilly…probably more than me. Had they already had sex? Would he marry her? Would she be willing to give up me for him?

"No," I objected, pushing myself up. "She wouldn't do that to me!" I started pacing, up and down, up and down, from the edge of the bed to the bathroom door. "She's my best friend, she loves me." I looked at Oliver who now looked beyond hurt, and I wondered if he'd cried too when she'd told him. "She loves you!" I bet he had, quicker than he'd fainted when he'd found out I was Hannah. He didn't do well with people he cared about lying to him.

He got up slowly, almost as if he was too tired to deal with this. "Miley," He said sadly, his voice breaking my heart all over again. "She never wanted it to happen but she couldn't stop it. He kept threatening to tell us, she didn't want us to get hurt. She loves us so much…she wants to make it better. She promised she'll never see him again." I knew he was just feeding me back what she'd told him, that he didn't understand why he wasn't enough any more than I did. I also believed it though…Lilly wasn't a liar like Jake. She wanted things to be right with us, and she wanted us to be friends forever. And so did I, even if nothing would ever be quite the same between us ever again.

I sat back on the bed, cross legged. We were silent for a long time, and then I heard a weak little voice beside me, "Do you still love him?"

I nodded, and whispered, "Yes." He didn't push it. "Do you still love her?"

He used his familiar chicken nod, "Never more." Our eyes met and next thing I knew, his chapped lips were on mine. He tasted weird, like Chinese food and fruity toothpaste. So different than Jake, but I didn't hate Chow Mein. He fumbled with the knot in my robe, and I was going to let him pick up where Jake left off, but then I tasted something else. Whiskey. I strained to pry my lips from his and he moved to my neck, his eyes closed tight. I pushed him off violently.

"Not tonight," I told him, letting my weight fall back against the headboard. "If you still want this tomorrow, we'll do it." He nodded, just staring at me.

"Okay," He agreed, lying down next to where I sat. I turned so I was down too, my back to him. I listened to his breathing become normal and slow as he fell asleep, only being able to think of how close I'd come to ruining an irreplaceable moment in my life twice. And while I may lead two lives, there are just some things you never get a do-over on. I don't know how long it took, but finally I let my eyes close without seeing Jake's face.

The next morning I awoke to the smell of burnt wax, yesterday's rose petals all stuck to my skin. I rolled over as I brushed them off, and saw that the other side of the bed was empty, the sheet tucked into the mattress again. He was gone.

No…waking up alone had not been how I planned it at all.

AN: I promised angst, and I think I delivered. Now for another question, how many of you did I trick into thinking Jake was Oliver in the beginning? And another, you're not made at me for the Jiley kiss earlier, are you? I mean, Jake was being so horribly unfair to her I think it almost doesn't count. I still feel kinda guilty about it though. So tell me, good or bad. And speculate who the next chapter is about as always…

Next Chapter: Kiss 5-Beautiful Dreamer