Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to review my story! I really appreciate every one of your comments.

This chapter isn't as humorous as the rest - but there comes a point in every story where the drama must take center stage. I hope you like it.

Part Seven

I tossed a popcorn kernel into my mouth. "Who needs the movies when you can attend a backstage party at a Kelly Clarkson concert?"

"Yeah," Oliver agreed. "You've got the giant Coke can pyramid over there, the really bad dancers over there, and a couple making out in that bean bag chair."

"Where?"

He pointed. "I don't think they've come up for air in a half hour."

"It looks uncomfortable."

"Not as uncomfortable as that." He nodded toward a girl who was bent over backwards walking on her hands and feet, a plastic cup balanced on her stomach.

I wrinkled my nose. "She's gonna be sore tomorrow."

"Or tonight, if she smacks her head into that chair leg."

We both cringed as she collided with the chair.

On the other side of the room a big guy standing by the Coke can pyramid crushed an aluminum can against his head. Everyone cheered.

I looked over at Oliver. He was sitting next to me on a comfy couch, one arm draped lazily around my shoulders. "Remember when you tried to do that once, and you got a big red welt right beside your ear?" I touched the spot with my fingers.

"Man, that was great." He smiled. "That can is still on display on the top of my bookshelf."

"You mean the bookshelf where you're supposed to keep all your books?"

"Hey, let's not insult my intelligence. Everyone knows that books belong on the bottom of your closet, underneath all your clothes and video games. Duh."

"You don't play video games."

"Well I would, if my brother hadn't spilled orange juice all over them." He reached across me to grab a handful of popcorn.

I sucked in my breath. That was the third time he'd done that tonight and it was really throwing me off my game. It was almost impossible to flirt with him when he made me this nervous and jittery. So I just sat there babbling about everything and nothing so that I wouldn't have to think about how close he was.

It had been this way for the past ten days. We'd gone on three dates in public places and made appearances at two backstage parties. On each occasion the paparazzi had been all over us, snapping pictures, stopping us to ask questions. New articles were published raving about how great we were together. No one remembered Sammy's spiteful description of our relationship anymore. We were Hollywood's new favorite couple.

Except we weren't really a couple.

"Hey, look at that dude climbing up on the piano with a microphone," Oliver said. "You don't think he's gonna sing, do you?"

The guy belted out a loud burp and laughed.

"Oh, save your dignity," I murmured. "Please don't sing, please don't sing…"

He sang. Tone deaf though he was, the crowd loved it. They threw cheese and crackers at him and applauded.

I leaned against Oliver's shoulder to block my ears from the noise. "At least now we know who's responsible for drinking all those Cokes."

"Oh, there goes his shirt," Oliver said. I started to sit up, but he covered my eyes with his hand. "Honey, you don't want to see that. None of us want to see that."

And heck, with Oliver's hand on my face, I didn't really care if I ever saw again.

"Woah, look at that girl's shoes," Oliver whispered.

A girl with curly red hair was walking toward us. She had big red and white polka-dot sneakers with little pom-poms on the ends of the laces. It looked like something straight out of Alice in Wonderland.

"Hey, are you Hannah Montana?" she asked brightly. "I'm Kelly's friend's sister, that's why I'm here. I'm a huge fan of yours. I've always wanted to meet you. Could you autograph my shirt?"

"Uh…sure," I stammered, still distracted by her shoes.

She turned around and I scribbled my name on her back. When she faced me again she was beaming. "Oh, thank you!" She glanced shyly at Oliver. "You must be Mike. I saw an article about you two the other day."

"Whatever they said about me, it's probably not true," Oliver replied.

"Oh, listen to him, he's so funny." I kicked Oliver's shin and gave him a warning look.

The redhead was enchanted with us. "You two are so cute. How did you meet?"

Oliver and I exchanged a look. No one had asked us that question before.

"Well…uh, it's a funny story." I laughed. "You see –"

"We met at a shoe store," Oliver volunteered proudly.

If I had been drinking a Coke, I would have spit it all out.

"A shoe store?" The girl put a hand over her heart and sighed. "How romantic."

"Yeah," Oliver said, "I walked into the store one afternoon and there was this blondy sittin' over in a chair talkin' on her cell phone. Yappin' away. I thought, 'pity the soul who's listenin' on the other end.'"

Oh, I was so gonna get him back for this later.

"I went on with my business, tried on a few shoes. After a while she comes strollin' down the aisle with a big blue purse. Whacks me in the head with it."

"Mike, you know that was an accident. I didn't see you there."

He patted my shoulder. "Aww, I know that now, but at the time I thought you did it on purpose." He looked up at the redhead. "So I jumped up and gave her a piece of my mind. We argued back and forth. Then outta nowhere she blurts out, 'I think you're cute.'"

"No, no, no," I interrupted. "What I said was, 'I hate your boot.'"

"But I wasn't trying boots on, Hannah." He smiled at me.

"Well they looked like boots."

He nodded. "Fair enough. So anyway, after that I said, 'then let's go out sometime.' She says, 'okay' and writes her number on my arm."

"I think you're getting a little forgetful, Mikey," I challenged, tapping him on the forehead. "What happened was that you wrote your number on my arm."

"Oh, right." He slapped his knee. "And you were the one who couldn't wait to call me back. I hadn't even gotten buckled up in my limo before my phone rang."

I scowled at him. Not fair.

"Wow." The redhead was fascinated. "I hope I get to meet a guy at a shoe store some day."

"Try shopping at DSW. They have great shoes there." I cleared my throat. "I mean, great guys."

"Thanks, Hannah, I will!" She winked at Oliver and skipped off.

I watched her go, and it occurred to me just then what a perfect opportunity I had to test Oliver. I elbowed him playfully. "Hey, so she's kinda cute, isn't she?"

"Polka-dotted shoe girl?" He considered it for a moment. "Redheads are supposed to be temperamental, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but she's definitely too cute to ever lose her temper. I bet I could hook you up with her if you wanted."

His expression clouded a little. "Yeah, maybe," he muttered.

How was I supposed to read that?

"Never mind, she's not really your type," I corrected, but it was too late. The mood was ruined.

Oliver and I left the party a half hour later. We snuck out the back way, but even so the reporters found us. We smiled as they took pictures and kept walking. A group of fans screamed at us from behind a yellow taped area.

As we stepped into the limo I wondered briefly what it would be like to date him without all the glitz and glamour. What if it was just Miley and Oliver, no pretenses, no lies?

What would it be like if he just touched me once and really meant it?

"So tomorrow's the big day, hmm?" Oliver broke through my thoughts.

If by "big day" he meant the day all my hopes and dreams were crushed, then yes, tomorrow was the big day.

"I've got to give it to you," he went on. "I didn't think your plan would work, but it did. Oliver Oscar Oken is da man!"

What was wrong with him? He had a pretty girl right next to him and he was congratulating himself on his rise to fame? I would never to my dying day understand boys.

"See you at school tomorrow," Oliver said cheerfully when the limo stopped at his house. "And remember, straw-spitting at Rico's Saturday afternoon! I can't wait to see the little devil bawl like a baby."

He smiled and left – without a word, without a look, without a kiss.

Just like he had every night for the past ten days.

I didn't understand it at all. No matter what I tried, no matter how much I wished, nothing changed.

I complained about it to Lilly Friday afternoon as I was getting ready for my appearance on Collin Lassiter's show.

"Why doesn't he like me?" I moaned. "What does a girl have to do to get his attention? I mean, you'd think he had a brain up there, but if he did, he totally would've come to his senses by now."

Lilly snorted. "And of course if a guy doesn't like you there must be something wrong with him."

"That's not what I meant." I reached out for the earrings she was holding. "I just don't understand why everything is the same as it was before Sammy showed up. Oliver treats me the exact same way he always has. I feel like I'm dating my best friend."

"He is your best friend." Lilly picked out a bracelet from my jewelry box and clipped it onto my wrist. "Well…second best friend. Clearly I come in first. I mean, who else would willingly give up an afternoon of surfing to help you get ready to be pretty and famous on TV? That takes a very special friend. A very very special friend. A first-class, top-notch –"

"Easily-sidetracked friend," I finished for her. "Lilly, focus!"

"Right. What were we talking about again?"

I frowned at her, then turned back to the mirror to check my earrings. "I just wish Oliver would do something so that I can know for sure whether he likes me or not."

Lilly pshawed. "And what have you done to show him that you like him?"

I tapped my earrings to make them twirl around. "What do you mean?"

"Miley, he used to be head over heels for Hannah. Then you made it clear to him that you could never see him as more than a friend. How is he supposed to react to all this?"

I hadn't ever thought about it that way before. But even if Lilly was right, hadn't I given Oliver plenty of hints? Hadn't I given him enough opportunity?

"See?" Lilly smiled proudly. "I can be deep sometimes."

"Yeah, I didn't see that one coming," I muttered.

"Hey, and there's more, so pay attention." She tapped my arm. "You really shouldn't use that shade of pink on your nails. It makes you look pasty."

I shoved her playfully. "Sure, now you tell me."

"Here, hold still and I'll redo them."

Silence fell over us as Lilly worked. I felt sick to my stomach, like I was about to do the one thing I dreaded most in the world. I tried to cheer myself up with happy thoughts – like my upcoming concert Saturday night – but the feeling wouldn't go away.

At last I spoke up in a very soft voice. "I don't know if I can break up with him."

Lilly looked up, concerned. "Miley, you have to. It's the right thing to do."

"I know, but…" My eyes started to sting. Oh, great. I wasn't going to cry about this, was I?

Lilly pulled me into a hug. "No matter what happens with Oliver, you always have me."

I hugged her back tightly.

"For what it's worth," she whispered, patting my back, "I think what you and Oliver have is already pretty great."

Lilly's last words stuck with me all afternoon. They stuck with me when I sat down in a big chair next to Collin Lassiter. They stuck with me when he asked me questions about my latest album and my upcoming tour. They stuck with me when the first audience question was, "How is your relationship going with Mike?"

There was my opportunity. It was wide open. There was no possible way I could answer that question without saying what I had come to say. I had a nice little speech all planned out, and I even took a breath to say it.

But I couldn't.

I knew if I broke up with him now I'd never get another chance to be with him. I didn't want to give up what we'd had the past two weeks. I liked the feel of his arm around my shoulders. I liked the way he stared down any guy who approached us with the intent of hitting on me. I liked it when he jokingly called me "honey," and when he took my hand into his when we walked into a room.

How could I ever go back to just being his friend?

So I did the unthinkable. "We're doing great," I answered with a smile. "Tomorrow is our one month anniversary and he's taking me somewhere nice."

The words were out, and I couldn't take them back. I pushed aside all feelings of guilt, and reveled in the hope of another week or two to persuade Oliver to like me. I hadn't done anything wrong. He wouldn't mind. What was it to him? He was having the time of his life in the spotlight.

These were the words which I used to comfort myself all the way home. I even felt pretty confident when I spotted Oliver walking up to my house from the beach that night.

He strolled in through the back door with a spring in his step. Geez, wasn't he chipper for someone who thought he just broke up with his girlfriend?

"I brought you some leftover pizza for dinner. A bunch of us ordered it and ate it right in front of Rico's. Drove him crazy." He tossed the half-eaten box on the kitchen counter, then turned to me. "So…how'd it go?"

"How'd what go?" I studied my nails. Maybe he'd forget.

"You know…the interview…the big announcement."

I swallowed nervously. "Well, uh…I might have run into a little bit of a problem. Just a little problem, nothing big. You see, the audience…they were just going crazy for Mike and Hannah. They were asking all these questions and screaming how much they loved us. I didn't actually…you know…get the chance to say anything." I looked up to gauge his reaction, then hurried to add, "It wasn't the right time. It would've crushed them to hear that we broke up."

Oliver stared at me blankly, not quite following. "So wait – you didn't tell them?"

I shook my head. "No."

Silence.

"Well, are you ever going to tell them?" His voice rose in pitch. "Miley, how long is this gonna go on? We can't keep dating forever!"

Why not? Why not!?

"I know," I said quickly. "Of course not. But it's too soon. We're too fresh in the public eye to break up now."

His eyes fell, but not before I saw the disappointment hidden in their depths. Why was he disappointed? Angry I could understand, but disappointed? It didn't make sense.

"The good news," I continued, keeping my voice light, "is that someone approached me about us doing a photo shoot for their magazine. They want us to come out tomorrow at one o'clock. What do you think? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Tomorrow?" He frowned. "You mean Saturday afternoon?"

"Yeah. Why? Are you doing something then?"

He looked straight at me, his expression grieved. I almost thought I saw tears in his eyes, but then he blinked and they were gone. "I was going to do something, but I'm not anymore."

He started to walk away, but I reached for his arm. "Oliver, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" he echoed incredulously. "What's wrong is that my best friend promised she'd help me beat Rico at the straw-spitting contest tomorrow, and then decided to stand me up."

Dang flabbit! I had totally forgotten!

"Oliver, I'm sorry, it just slipped my mind for a minute. But how could I say 'no' to the photo shoot? This is a huge opportunity. It could launch your career. Think about it – you on a magazine cover! The girls will be crushing all over you. Then when you finally do break up with me, viola! You'll be irresistible." I smiled and elbowed him. "Hmm? How do you like that? You'll be the talk of the town. This is good for you."

"No," he interrupted forcefully, "you mean this is good for you."

"What?"

"You're not doing any of this for me. You're doing it all for you, and you have been since the beginning."

I was so shocked I didn't know what to say.

He met my gaze boldly. "I don't know why I'm surprised. This happens all the time. You always use me whenever it's most convenient for you."

"That's not true! I don't –"

"To chase off guys you don't like, to help you out with your latest scheme, to fix your reputation, to fill in for Lilly when she's not around and you're bored." He shook his head sadly. "Now you're even doing it to get your face on a magazine."

Oh, he was wrong. He was all wrong! How could he think that? I opened my mouth to protest –

"Hey, it's okay," he assured me, his voice softening. "I like helping you out, really I do. But as soon as something better comes along, I get kicked to the curb. What's gonna happen when you meet a guy you really like? You'll find some way to convince me that now is the best time for us to break up." He shook his head. "You're my best friend, Miles, but sometimes I don't think I'm yours."

He looked at me for a long moment. I felt keenly the disapproval in his eyes, and I understood: he had expected better of me. Perhaps more than anyone else he saw my shallow ways, and yet he had believed in me. He had believed that for one brief moment in time I would do the right thing, that I would end the nonsense, the fabrications, the lies.

I was truly humbled.

"Oliver…"

"I'm sorry, but I can't pretend to be your boyfriend anymore. Find someone else." He turned to go.

"No, wait!" I started after him. "That's not how it is at all. I can explain!"

"Miles, I really don't want to hear it this time."

And he walked off.

I watched him go, aware of a powerful new feeling welling up inside me. Suddenly it wasn't about winning Oliver as my boyfriend anymore. It was simpler than that. I cared what he thought of me. I couldn't bear thinking he was disappointed in me. I wanted my best friend back.

I collapsed onto the sofa, curled into a ball, and cried.