Hey, everyone. Sorry for the slight wait. I had a little writers block.

I do not own Hannah Montana or the song recited in this chapter.

Four – About A Girl

'One song

About a girl

Can't breathe when I'm around her…'

September melted away, and in town away from the beach the green leaves of the trees were beginning to paint themselves vivid, fiery colors.

And while that was going on, things between Miley and I began to change. Mostly just on my part.

Okay, all on my part.

From the moment I realized how attractive I found my best friend to be, I found myself starting to do all these weird things.

First of all, I was completely devoted to her. The second she would text or call me, my organs would jump a foot inside me, and I'd grin and put down whatever I was doing, and listen to every syllable she had to say. When she IMed me, I basically ignored anyone else I was talking to and gazed at every word she sent.

If we were engaging in any non-oral communication like texting or IMing, I would be reading her words over and over and over. At first I only did it a little bit. I would just want to be sure I caught everything she said, so I could keep our conversation up and find something especially impressive to say. But then… I would just read the same thing over and over, trying to search for something in them, some hidden meaning…

Kind of like the things I've been saying had. I gave her all these sincere, dead-serious compliments whenever she told me she was feeling like shit. And they would make her smile and blush, which made me smile and blush. Thank god she's never seen that. And whenever she would compliment me, like tell me that my new jeans I didn't even tell her I bought look really nice, or anything like that, made me grow warm, inside and out. I love it when she notices me.

Another thing, I always think about her. When I'm with her, I try to take mental snapshots of her to think about later. Even if I tried to think about something else, like skating or guys or clothes or some assignment I had to do, I couldn't do it. I was almost incapable of it. I'd stray off and think of her in between. Her smile, her laugh, what she wore that day, what she'd say to me; anything and everything.

It's probably the worst thing I've ever experienced. I don't even know what to call it. It's pathetic, despicable, horrifying… I just wish I had never even gone surfing that one day; that day I always think about where those lips were actually on mine.

I don't know why any of this is happening. I thought humans had control of themselves, and could choose what to think about and what not to think about, or what to look at or what not to look at.

I guess not.

-

It was first period and I could feel my heart sink all over again. The empty seat in front of me reminded me how Miley didn't come to school today. She didn't even text me to let me know.

Mrs. Nevelle was talking, I was ignoring her. We had this mutual knowledge of cooperation with each other; she lectures, I sit there not hearing a word. If she decides to acknowledge me and try to be a smartass, I show her what a smartass really is. And on those occasions, spend the rest of the period in the principal's office. But it's impossible for me to fail, because Miley always bombards me with the notes and assignment I missed.

She's too good to me.

And thinking of her pushed another sad sigh out of me.

I looked around at everyone taking notes, rolled my eyes, and decided to open my red notebook and did so too, for the first time all year. Miley would need them.

At one point when I glanced up at Nevelle, I saw her looking back at me with surprised eyes, then an ugly, malicious little grin.

Shut up, I told her silently, I'm just doing it for Miley.

Yeah, I know, she replied. That's why it's so amusing.

The smile was still on her face when I looked back at the paper.

Bitch.

-

There's something about looking into Oliver's eyes that makes me feel at home. When we were younger, but older-younger, I thought I just had a big crush on him. Honestly, I never thought about what I really feel for Oliver.

We were sitting at lunch with the guys, where we always sit, although Miley's seat was empty.

Oliver was telling some story, and I was trying to look at him the way I looked at Miley the day before school on her porch.

I saw his milk chocolate eyes beneath his dark chocolate hair, and his warm, boyish smile, before anything else on his pointed, triangular face.

But I wasn't entranced by his face the way I was Miley's. My observations of Oliver were much more… factual. I had a sense of something being wrong as I noted that, but didn't pause to look into it.

I always thought I was supposed to like Oliver. We got along so well, and always have. It's not like he's butt ugly or anything. I always adored his smile and hair, and don't really understand why girls reject him so often.

Friend wise, whenever I needed someone, Oliver was always there for me, always tied his long arms around me and gave me his slim, tall torso to attach myself to, and a shoulder to soak with tears on one or two occasions; before Miley, that is. But still, Oliver is there for comfort the very rare moments I ever need it. He is my number one confidant, and even though he isn't too observant, we've been together for so long he knows everything about me from what family member I get whichever of my features from, to my favorite ice cream. He's my oldest, greatest friend.

I looked out the window, high on the cafeteria wall, popping some more chips into my mouth.

The sun was shining through, landing on certain tables; including ours. I looked back to Oliver, completely enveloped in the light. It made his teeth poking out a little from behind his smiling, open lips stand out.

"…And I was like, 'yeah, you can ride the Ollie Trollie aaall night…'" I caught him say when I snapped out of my thoughts. He then proceeded to make a vulgar thrusting motion with his hips.

I giggled lightly as the entire table of guys erupted in howls of laughter.

Well, at least now I understand why he can't get a girl.

-

"Was that text from Miley?"

My light-speed heartbeat became background noise to Oliver's voice. It was the end of the day, and we were walking out of school.

"Uh huh," I answered, fingers zipping around my phone's keypad to answer her. I didn't focus on how pathetic it was I read her text over 13 times so I didn't answer in the same minute she sent the text.

Hey:D how was your day? I read it over incase it wasn't completely normal or error-less, and sent it.

I felt someone watching me, and looked over at Oliver to see him staring at me with narrowed eye and a suspicious frown.

"What?" The smile on my face I didn't even remember appearing faded.

"Why are you… why were you smiling like that? That wasn't really Miley, was it?"

I hesitated to answer. What did he mean? "What do you mean? Of course it was Miley."

He stared into my eyes for a few more seconds. "Oh."

What the hell? "What are you talking about? Smiling like what?"

Oliver sighed. I was very intrigued to see what he was going to say. "You have this love sick smile on your face, I just thought it was some new guy you're crushing on or something..."

My mouth opened, and I looked away instantly. What?

"Really? That's, uh, that's weird. No, she was just telling me this funny joke…"

"Oh," Oliver smiled. All the tension that was buzzing between his eyes and my nervous face melted. "What was it?"

God, Ollie, you're killin' me here. "It was, the, uh, Micheal Jackson one, I don't know, I kind of forget."

There was an awkward second of silence, where it seemed like his suspicions seemed to rise, but I said, "Ahaha, hey, did you see Nevelle's shirt today? She looked like an actual cow!" and he laughed his boyish laugh and it was all good.

Still, something inside me twisted a strange way from the way it has been lately. A scared way. Lovesick?

-

Oliver and I got to the corner where me, him, and Miley always part right (me), left (him), and straight (Miley) to our houses.

I crossed the street and continued on the sidewalk to my right, looking back over my shoulder to see whether or not Oliver had made the left around the next corner, yet. I kept walking until he did, then sprinted quickly back to the corner and up Miley's street.

I had to bring Miley her homework, after all.

Although, the butterflies in my tummy were not because of the fact she said no word of that homework when she invited me, but not Oliver, over. She gave no details towards the part about not inviting Oliver, either. The butterflies were also not because of that.

I walked up the street and around some corners and down some more, until I could finally smell the sea and faintly hear the waves. Just faintly.

I felt like I was a seven-year-old arriving at Toys R Us when I stepped up on Miley's porch, knocking on the door. I don't barge in anymore. I realized it isn't polite.

I re-gripped my bag on my shoulder, and my phone buzzed.

jus come in silly:P

My hand was tight around the door knob, and I was suddenly extremely nervous. I almost began sweating.

The door swung open to the familiar insides of Miley's house; the wooden floor boards, the olive green couch in the middle of the sunken in portion of the living room, the snack bar straight ahead on the higher level, and the piano on the right.

I heard Miley call, "I'm up here, Lils!" down the steps, which were down the little hall in the far right corner, and felt a slight sensation of tingles up my spine.

I needed to calm down. I walked over to the snack bar and tossed my back pack on a chair, then walked around to the fridge.

A few minutes later and Miley yelling down two more times, I got myself some brownies and a glass of milk and quickly made my way upstairs.

As I reached her door, I heard it swing open, and looked up from my glass I was trying very hard not to spill the contents of.

I swallowed. In the glimpse I caught of her, she was wearing a tight cami that showed a thick strip of stomach, and baggy sweats hung low, her hair tied into a cute, low, messy bun and she wasn't smiling, nor frowning, but glowing.

I heard her collapse on her bed, and sigh. I entered the room, keeping my eyes on the floor, and set my plate and glass on her night table.

I finally looked down at her on the bed; one knee up, the crease the muscles bordering her hips completely visible, the valleys of her abs lined by the cotton of her shirt, her bare chest rising and falling peacefully.

Holy shit. Why?

I couldn't take my eyes off her. I didn't realize I stopped breathing.

"Lilly, I know the brownies are pretty, but could you please speak?"

I made a strangled, choking sound, caused by my spit flowing into my trachea, and began laughing and fell across the bed.

I could feel her smooth stomach rub along my arm, as she giggled too. "You're so weird, why did I invite you here…"

I flipped around onto my side, still across her abdomen. My shirt rode up just a little bit, and when I felt her warm skin on mine, my insides twisted, in the way I was starting to get really used to.

Just like that.

I told myself it was just because of the skin-on-skin contact. Not because of whom the skin belonged to.

"Because…" a flirty smile appeared, I felt it on my face, "You love me."

"True." My heart raced. "Now get off." It still raced.

I climbed off, and sat next to my brownies. I pulled the plate onto my lap and dug in.

"So," I said once I swallowed, "are you really sick?" I usually would have just talked with my food in my mouth.

"No, but apparently I got the runs."

"What do you mean apparently?"

Miley snickered. "That's what I told Daddy. Hey, I needed some extra time on that essay, I don't just spit the A's out. They take time and thought."

I took another small, dainty bite. And swallowed again. "Wow, Miley Stewart actually lying?" I poked her in the stomach. I felt my face heat up. "That's not a good moral for all the kids of America, Ms. Montana."

"Mm, well, nobody's perfect." She flashed me a grin and looked me in the eyes.

"You live and you learn it," I sighed.

She giggled again. God, why is she so perfect?

We watched TV for a while, and talked until all the brownies but the last were gone. I was a little disappointed at how calm she seemed and what a wreck I was. I was flat out astonished at how she didn't notice it.

"Hey," she said, reaching over me. My breathing deepened sensually as I felt her front mash against my side. "That one's mine," she whispered, hot against my ear. I shivered. I wanted to… I wanted to moan.

I let her grab the brownie and I was still frozen in the same, erratic-breathing state she put me in, and then I realized how wrong this was.

I glanced at her clock; 3: 47, and made up a lie. "Oh, crap, it's almost four, I gotta head home, see ya Miles!"

I jumped out of her bed, bounded down the steps, snatched my bag from the barstool, threw it over my shoulder and dashed out of the house. I didn't even leave her the homework.

-

I could barely get my key in the door, I was so shaken up, but I eventually succeeded, and shut it and leaned back against it once I was inside.

"Hey, honey!" I heard my mom call from upstairs.

"He-ey, mom…" I shouted back half-heartedly.

I slid down and threw my face into my hands. My heart was still beating madly, and I know it wasn't just because of how I ran all the way here.

Lovesick?

'I'm not gonna waste these words

About a girl…

"About a Girl" – The Academy Is…'

Please, please, pleeeaseee send a review and tell me what you think. I really want to know. Next chapter will be up soon, and it'll be long, I promise.