And I don't know how to be fine when I'm not
I don't like Oliver.
Well, I do. But as a friend. As a best friend. Who I can tell everything to, and when he touches me, get shooting sparks up...
No. No, I don't get sparks up my arm when Oliver touches me. They were shooting pains, because I was probably having a slight heart attack.
But not because Oliver was touching me! No! Because I'd just run down a beach in shoes that broke the skin on my feet.
Yeah. That was it. And Jack was just being Jack. Annoying, and I'd fallen for it.
I don't like Oliver. Not like that anyway.
But -
"Lilly! You here?" I jumped at the sound of his voice, and shook my head, ridding it of all thoughts that I didn't want there.
"Yeah! In the kitchen!" I called back, and I heard his footsteps advancing to the kitchen. Mom must have let him in.
Oliver stood in the doorway to the kitchen for a few seconds, and I looked at him curiously.
"What are you looking at?" I asked, picking up another biscuit from the plate in front of me. "Do I have something on my face?"
He shook his head, and came and sat opposite me. Nothing was said for a few minutes, and I almost laughed several times. I've never been good at keeping a very straight face. Oliver, however, has gotten considerably better at looking serious, especially in the last few years.
I finished eating my biscuit, without completely losing it, and reached for another one. Just as Oliver reached for one too. Our hands collided, and we both instinctively pulled back. Then, realising how stupid it was, we both laughed.
"Sorry," I laughed. "You go."
He took a biscuit, and then I picked one.
"Why were we being silent again?" I asked, slightly confused.
Oliver shrugged. "'Cause you didn't say anything."
"Well neither did you!" I defended, but smiled. "And technically, I did. I asked you why you were staring at me, and you only nodded."
"Well, you should have answered when I nodded," Oliver replied.
My mom walked into the kitchen, talking incessantly on the phone. "I know that it's short notice, but I honestly cannot help it. Well, if you can't get the staff, I'll have to find some. Two? I'll need two? Uniform? None. Fine. Fine. Thank you, so much. Of course. See you and your staff later tonight."
She hung up, and then turned to me and Oliver. "Hi Oliver. I don't think I've seen you for a while."
Oliver smiled. He's perfect at handling parents. "Sorry Mrs. Truscott. Since Miley came, we've been hanging out at her house."
"I'd noticed. It's been quiet around here without you and Lilly running around," my mom smiled, and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Not that you'd be running around anyway, obviously. As you're almost seventeen. I keep having to pinch myself."
I rolled my eyes. I'd been having this lecture since I turned sixteen. And then the year before that, and the year before that. With my back to my mom, I started mouthing the words with her.
"It seems like yesterday that you were little kids, and now you're all grown up," I mouthed, and mom said. Oliver looked from me to my mother, and tried to contain his laughter.
"And you and Lilly were playing in the paddling pool at your house, and Lilly forgot her swimming costume -" my mom started, and I panicked.
"Enough of that story already! Finished! Stop talking!" I cried, and Oliver laughed even more.
"I remember that," he laughed. "Vaguely, 'cause we were like three."
I rolled my eyes. "Is it your goal in life to torture me? Both of you? Because you're both torturing me."
My mom laughed. "Anyway. Now you're grown up, and still the best of friends. In fact -"
"Mom. You're embarrassing yourself, and us," I interrupted.
"Actually, I'm not all that embarrassed," Oliver butted in.
I turned to him, and raised my eyebrows. "We can fix that."
"I'd rather you didn't," Oliver admitted, and fell silent.
"Okay, okay," my mother smiled, and took a sip of her coffee. "I can't talk for long anyway. I need to work out how I'm going to find two young people, willing to work at a fancy party for rock bottom prices... hey. Didn't have to look too far. Free food, and I'll pay you five dollars an hour."
I turned to Oliver and raised my eyebrows. He looked excited, but I'm pretty sure that the prospect of food had caused that reaction.
"We accept," he stated, and I folded my arms.
"We do?"
He stared at me, like I was stupid. "Lilly, we've been complaining that we were bored for days. Now we have something to do. And we get paid for it! C'mon Lills."
Usually I would have been able to break him down, but today... was different. I found myself being unable to say no. But that was just the prospect of money.
Money, money, money.
And a whole night with Oliver.
But lots, and lots of money.
"Fine," I said, and my mom smiled, almost as if she knew something that we didn't.
"Wear something smart. If you own anything smart, either of you. Although didn't I buy you that nice dress last year, Lilly?" my mom grinned, as she walked to the door.
An image of the dress popped into my mind. Yellow. With polka dots all over it. And a frilly hemline. Eew. There was no way that I was stepping foot out of the house, in that thing. But Mom didn't have to know that. "Um... I think it's in the wash."
"But you've never worn it," my mother argued.
Man, she was good. "Um... yeah. I like to wash things that have just come from the shop. I mean, people might have tried them on in the changing rooms. And I don't want to wear stuff that other people have worn. It's as bad as going bowling."
"What's wrong with going bowling?" Oliver asked, as if I'd insulted him.
"Nothing Oliver. I'll find something mom," I answered both of them in turn.
Mom nodded, and then walked from the kitchen. "Thank you for the help. I'll take you both to the party tonight."
I heard the front door close, and Oliver smirked at me. "Dress? It's hard to imagine you in a dress. The last dress you wore, was at my seventh birthday party. And it was ruined three minutes in."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, even though he was right. Dresses over trousers, yes, but not a dress. Not a proper one.
"Nothing," Oliver shrugged. "Apart from the fact that I will never be able to imagine you, Lilly Truscott, looking girly."
I was a little offended at this. That my best friend could only see me as the skater girl I once, and always will be. "Well then, just for you, I'll show you that even Lilly Truscott can be girly at times."
"I look forward to it," Oliver challenged.
I looked him in the eye, and ignored the stomach flop that occurred. "You should."
--
"Miley!" I cried, as soon as my best friend picked up the phone. "I need help!"
"Hello to you too," Miley's voice greeted me. "Calm down. Girl, you sound as stressed as a stampede of cattle running to -"
"No time! Miley, I need to look girly tonight, because Oliver said that I'd never be able to look girly, and I told him that I could too look girly, and we're helping at my mom's party thing, because he roped me into it, and so now I need to look girly, except I have no clue how to do that," I rambled, trying to fit as much information into one sentence as I could.
Miley was silent for a few seconds. "Got it."
"Got what?" I asked.
"I got what you just said. Now I'm thinking of a solution to your problem," Miley said.
I sighed with relief. Miley was great in situations like this. "Thank you!"
"You can use the Hannah closet. Find something girly in there, and use it," Miley came up with. "To get into my house, there's a spare key under the first flowerpot. I trust you with it."
I squealed with excitement. Not much about Hannah Montana excited me anymore, but the prospect of picking anything out of the ever-changing Hannah closet was way exciting. "Yay!"
"One thing," Miley said, and I stopped dreaming about what outfit I would pick, and listened.
"What?"
"Why are you trying to look girly? Oliver challenged you? Since when have you taken up any of the challenges Oliver has set you?" Miley sounded confused.
And she had every right to be. It was confusing me too. "I guess it's just because if Oliver thinks that, then everybody must. And I want to prove to myself that I can do it."
But that wasn't it. Well, it was, but it wasn't the whole reason.
And as much as I didn't want to admit it, that reason had more to do with the fact that Oliver didn't think I could look like a girl. Because for some reason, that bothered me.
