Miley's POV
"I don't want you to go," I whine playfully as I stretch out on top of Nick. There are no barriers between us and just a thin sheet protecting us from the world. It's almost four a.m. and we're still awake. Although, considering Nick didn't get home from the studio until past midnight, it hasn't been that long.
"I want you to come," he counters, sliding his hands under the sheets and down to my lower back. He starts tracing hearts onto my skin and I can't help the shivers that run though my body at his touch.
"You know I would if I could."
"I know," he says with a smile and then leans up to peck my lips. I bring my hands up to his thick curls and bury my fingers in them, massaging his head gently.
Tomorrow (or, technically, today) he's leaving for a small promotional tour on the East Coast. He'll be hitting the late night shows in New York and play at a few small venues. It's only five days, but somehow it seems like an incredibly long time to be without him.
"Mm, that feels nice," Nick murmurs as I start to press my lips against his neck.
"Oh yeah?" I whisper into his skin as I start to go lower, paying special attention to his defined collarbones, "I could make it better."
"Do it," he says in a demanding way, but with the way he's gasping for air, it's easy to tell that I'm the one in control, "Make it better."
I smile and then take my hands out of his hair and run them down his sides. His body is squirming beneath me. I love having him in this position, where I'm in control. My hands make it to his waist and I slowly trace my fingers against his v-cut hips, taking my time to get to what I know he wants.
"Mi," my nickname tumbles from his lips, "Mi, please."
I could torture him longer, but that would be cruel, and also I want this just as much as he does.
"Mi," he groans again as one of my hands work him up and down, "Don't stop..."
I look up at him and his eyes are closed tight. I bring my lips close to his ear and nibble on it gently.
"Looks like someone's ready for round two," I whisper into his ear. It's like a new fire has been lit inside of him when he hears that because he quickly grabs me and flips us over so he's on top. I know I said I like being in control, but it's kind of really hot when he is too. I think that's why our relationship works well, we're both willing to switch up the roles and neither of us needs full power all the time.
"You're so beautiful," he says, pinning me against the mattress with his hips and grinding against me. It's my turn to say his name now. His hands cup my face and kiss my forehead, then both my eyelids, then my nose, and finally me lips. He uses his tongue to part them, exploring the place that he's gotten to know very well after all the time we've spent together. He mimics my earlier actions on him, sliding hands down my sides, making me squirm underneath him. They slide down my thighs and he parts them gently, hitching one around his waist and then he's there, filling me and showing me how much he loves me.
"I love you," I say into his mouth and he grunts in response, which means I love you too in Nick-sex-noises, a language I've become very fluent in.
It feels like our hands are everywhere on each other. Even though we know each other very well, every time we're together it's like getting to know him all over again.
Suddenly his hands grip my hips tightly, almost so tight that it hurts, but mostly all I can feel is pleasure. I know that means he's close and I'm right behind him, about to cross the line.
When it's over, we're both breathing like we've run a marathon. I look at the clock and it's almost five in the morning.
"You have to get up in two hours, you should probably go to sleep," I say, rolling on my side and rubbing my foot against his leg.
"I can sleep on the plane, I want to stay awake and talk with you," he responds with a smile. I smile back at him and we start exchanging stories about our respective days. Nick rehearsed with his band at the studio while I had an interview with a radio station. I revel in the moment of togetherness so I can keep the feeling with me for the next five days without him. I mean, it's only five days, rights? I'm sure I can handle it.
Pathetic. That's what I am, completely pathetic.
It's been two days without Nick and all I've done is mope around the house and do nothing.
Okay, well maybe technically that's not true. The reason I couldn't go with Nick on his small promo tour on the East Coast is because I'm booked. I had a photo shoot with Vogue this morning and I have interviews tomorrow then I have a dress fitting for an award show the next day. Which are awesome and all but it would've been nice if I wasn't so busy and could've gone with Nick.
Even though I do have things keeping me busy, the second they're over, I'm back at home doing nothing. Which is what I'm doing now.
I already did all the laundry and ironed it. I cleaned the kitchen and did a little grocery shopping, I put new sheets on the bed, but I'm out of ideas now. I survey the room, trying to find something to do, but I can't think of anything. Then I hear my phone buzzing from the bedroom and I practically run to read the text message that's waiting for me.
NICK: i miss you. i think i'm starting to forget what you look like :(
I laugh out loud. One of the things getting me through the days is the fact that I know Nick misses me just as much as I miss him. Instead of responding with a message, I look in the mirror at myself. I'm wearing one of Nick's v-neck shirts (which is falling off my shoulder) and a pair of shorts. My hair is kind of messy, but it's not too bad. Then I pick up my phone and snap a picture of myself and send it to him. A few seconds later, it vibrates again.
NICK: is that my shirt?
I roll my eyes. He would ask that.
MILEY: no, i decided to buy shirts in your size from now on :P
The second I send that my phone starts ringing it my hand. I almost scream in surprise. It's not Nick though. It's actually Demi. Oh well, at least this will be something to do.
"Hey Dem, what's up?" I ask answering the phone.
"Are you home?" she asks frantically. I hear a car horn beep in the background.
"Yeah," I tell her, "Are you driving while on the phone?"
"Total emergency. I'm coming over. Now. See you in five," she says quickly before the line goes dead.
I look at the phone puzzled. What was that all about? Should I actually be worried or is this just typical Demi craziness? Oh well, I guess I'll find out soon enough. Then my phone vibrates again.
NICK: oh, so it is mine. take it off… and then send another pic ;)
What a typical male. Although truthfully I wouldn't be against him sending me a shirtless picture either. Unfortunately for him, I have company coming over. Also, sending pictures like that seems like a good way to land in the tabloids. I'm sure obsessive fans try to hack his phone all the time. But instead of lecturing him, I'll just cut him off.
MILEY: sorry, babe. Demi's coming over. Call me later. Love you.
I drop my phone onto the bed and then go to wait in the living room on one of the couches. Soon enough, the bell rings and I buzz Demi up into the penthouse. The second the elevator door opens she flies out with her huge black purse over one arm and a plastic bag clutched in the other.
She stops for a moment to catch her breath.
"Oh my God," she says, "Okay, so I'm on my way home from the studio and I have the radio on. They were doing that segment on like weird news or whatever and there was a story about this girl..."
Oh good. This doesn't seem like an actual emergency, just another one of Demi's whims.
"... So this girl. She's in the bathroom of McDonald's, right? And all of the sudden her stomach really hurts and she has no idea what's wrong and she's all in pain and moaning so they call an ambulance for her and guess what?"
"What?" I ask trying to keep a straight face. Demi seems totally serious though which does have me a little nervous.
"She was pregnant," Demi says solemnly, "She was pregnant and she didn't even know! Now her baby is bound to have complications and she probably doesn't know who the father is..."
Demi rants on about it for a little longer while I'm just thinking what the hell? How do you not know that you're pregnant? I mean I guess if you were like heavy set maybe you wouldn't notice. But there are symptoms and things that are a little hard to miss.
"... So I got us pregnancy tests," Demi finishes proudly, holding up the bag she brought in with her.
"Demi," I say trying to stifle a laugh, "The pill is like 98% effective. I think we're pretty safe."
"But it's not 100%," she insists, "Please just take it with me? For my own peace of mind?"
She looks so insistent. Oh well, what could it hurt? It's not like I bought the pregnancy test so it's no skin off my back or money out of my pocket.
"Fine," I say and Demi jumps up and down and thanks me. Then she opens up the box and reads the instructions and carefully explains them to me before giving me my own test.
I shake my head as I head towards Nick and I's bathroom. The things I do for friendship. Peeing on this little stick. After successfully doing that, I get up and head back to the living room. Demi is already sitting on the couch with her phone in her hand and her test on the coffee table. I put mine down too and then sit next to her.
She presses a button on her phone to start the timer and we sit in silence watching the numbers slowly climb.
"Oh, my God, I'm so nervous, hold my hand," she says grabbing onto me and squeezing the life out of my hand.
"Jeez, if you're acting like this now, I can only imagine what you'll be like when you actually might be pregnant," I tease her.
She laughs along, "Maybe this is good practice, right? Especially for you, missy," she says looking pointedly at my ring.
"Oh, no," I say blushing, "I definitely want to be a little older and preferably past the one year mark of being married. I hear that's the toughest year and a baby probably wouldn't help."
"Please, as if anything could split you and Nick up. He'd probably agree with you if you decided to get married tomorrow and then make a baby that night."
I laugh at Demi's comment and then her phone beeps. She gets up immediately and checks her little stick. She squints at it and then throws her fist in the air.
"Oh yeah!" she says doing a little dance, "I'm not pregnant! Woo!"
I laugh as she dances around the room and then look at my own stick so I can join in with her happy dancing.
Just as I thought there's a little... Wait. Is that a plus sign? No. It can't be. Or maybe this test is weird and that means you're not pregnant. There is definitely no way that I'm carrying a baby.
"Demi," I say sharply, causing her to stop in her tracks, "What is it supposed to look like if it's negative?"
"A minus sign," she says in a confused voice.
"So if it's a plus sign that means it's positive?"
"Well, yeah..."
"Oh," is all I can manage to say before sitting back down on the couch.
"Oh, my God! Miley!" Demi cries as her eyes open wide in shock and understanding. She comes over and sits next to me and takes the test from my hand.
"Oh, Miley," she says again as she reads it and then puts it back down.
Honestly, it hasn't really sunk in yet. I'm pregnant. There's a tiny... thing growing inside of me. I try to remember back to health class to figure out what it would look like now, but I have no idea. A baby. In me. That has parts of me and parts of Nick in it. Something that we made. Together. I smile at that thought.
"Yoo-hoo, Miley, are you okay?" Demi waves a hand in front of my face, "You just spaced out for like five minutes."
"Yeah, sorry," I take a deep breath, "I'm fine."
But then panic sets in. Oh shit. I'm pregnant. Before I'm married. What will people say? What will my dad say? He'll be so disappointed. Although I guess it's better than getting pregnant before we're even engaged. But now everyone will think it's just a shotgun wedding. Plus, I highly doubt Nick wants a baby at this time in his life. I sure as hell don't. Babies are a lot of work and responsibility. We'll have to make a lot of sacrifices in our time and work schedules. No more spontaneous date nights or going out to the clubs.
Also, I guess this ruins our wedding. Either we'll have to wait for this sucker to be born, or have a rushed wedding; because there is no way I'm going to be pregnant on my wedding day. So bye-bye to my fairytale wedding.
I don't even realize I'm crying until I hear Demi whisper, "Shh, don't cry, it's okay."
"It's not," I shake my head, but wipe away my tears, "It's not okay. I don't need this right now. I don't want this right now. This is going to mess everything up."
"No it won't," Demi insists, "C'mon, Nick's gonna be thrilled."
"I can't tell Nick," I panic. He'll hate me. This will mean no more tours for a while, no more late nights out. He doesn't deserve that.
"Well, you're going to have to," Demi reasons, "I mean, he is your fiancé. And the father."
Even just the thought of telling him I'm pregnant makes me want to run to the bathroom and puke my guts out. Ugh. This isn't how my life was supposed to play out.
As if he knows, my cell phone starts playing his ringtone from the bedroom. I looked at Demi for a sign of what I should do, but she just shrugs.
I can't not pick up, then he'll just call the house and if I don't pick up that he'll get worried and start calling everyone to figure out where I am. So instead I take a deep breath. I'm a performer, I can do this.
"Tell him," Demi calls out as I go to the bedroom, but I shake my head before picking it up.
"Hey," I say calmly into the phone.
"Hey, baby," he replies and for a second his voice makes me weak. I want to just sob and tell him what happened, but I can't. Not yet.
"What's up?" he asks next.
"Not much," I lie, "Just hanging out with Demi."
"Oh well that sounds fun."
"Mmhm," I respond, "How's New York?"
"It's good," he sighs, "But I miss you, Mi. I wish you were here with me."
I almost melt over the phone at the sound of his soft, sad voice.
"I miss you, too," I whisper back, trying to hold back tears. Not just because I miss him, but because I'm sure I'm going to lose him.
"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to make you sad."
"I know," I smile over the phone, "I'm just getting emotional. It's stupid. It's not like I need you with me every second."
"It's not stupid," he contradicts me, "And I need you with me every second. But we can't do that so we deal with it. I love you and I never want to lose you."
Don't cry, Miley. Not while on the phone with him. Then he'll comfort me, which will make me feel guilty, and then he'll know something's up and I'll probably wind up spilling to him.
"Love you, too," I say quickly, successfully ruining the sweet moment between us, "But I gotta go, it's rude to keep Demi waiting like this, bye."
I hang up quickly, but not before I hear Nick yelling, "wait!"
I don't listen though and I head for the kitchen where Demi is ransacking my fridge.
"Why do you have two jars of peanut butter?" she asks me without even turning around to realize I'm there. That girl is good.
"Because I like chunky and Nick likes smooth," I explain. She takes her nose out of the fridge with the jar of smooth peanut butter in her hand.
"I'm with Nick. Chunky is gross. Joe likes it too and it's all he ever has at his place," she says and then takes a banana from the fruit bowl and peels it before smothering it in peanut butter. Only once she's begun to eat her snack does she acknowledge the phone call.
"So, did you tell him?" she asks, getting straight to the point. I shake my head and a look of disappointment crosses her face.
"Look, I'm not going to jump to conclusions," I say, taking a deep breath, "For all we know, that pregnancy test could be wrong. I haven't had any symptoms so it must be early in the pregnancy, if it even is one. There's no point in Nick getting all worked up over this if nothing's even wrong. I'm going to make an appointment with the doctor and get everything confirmed, and then I'll figure it out."
She just stares at me for a minute but finally she nods, "Okay. That makes sense. I still think you should tell him, but I understand where you're coming from."
"Thanks, Demi," I say, tears prickling my eyes in gratitude. She's a good friend, keeping this secret for me even though she's known Nick longer. I go on the other side of the island and wrap her into a hug. She hugs me back tightly and then pulls away.
"No problem, Miley," she says with her signature smile, "But I gotta go, Joe's expecting me."
I walk her to the elevator doors and push the button. It opens almost instantly.
"You're going to be okay, right?" Demi asks before getting in. I know she doesn't mean to, but her eyes look down to my stomach and I can't help but feel self-conscious.
"I'll be fine," I say with a fake laugh, "I told you, I'm going to take care of this."
Apparently I have her fooled because she goes in to give me another hug and says, "Call me!" before leaving. I let out a sigh of relief.
I pick up the house phone and call up my OB/GYN. Might as well get this over with. I talk briefly to the receptionist and set up an appointment for the morning of the day Nick is supposed to come back.
I'm going to take care of this.
I know what you're thinking: Oh great, here we go, another pregnancy story. But 1) they're not teens, so it's not going to be one of those BS stories and 2) it's me, i don't do things normally. I'm sure you guys will have questions and stuff & i'll try to do my best to answer them (if they won't give away too much), please contact me at my formpspring for them though. http:// formspring. me/l0veisrealx3
Also, the not knowing you're pregnant thing is totally true, although I'm with Miley, how in the world would you not know you're pregnant?
Review pleaseee.
