"Pass me a bran muffin, please," asked a sleepy, but still authoritative voice from behind his newspaper barrier. Lilly complied wordlessly, leaning forward to place the muffin directly in front of her father. She had polished off her cereal in record time this morning, a sign of her anxiousness at what was awaiting her in the near future.
Last night, Oliver had promised to borrow one of his parents' cars to drive her to and from school. Receiving news of this plan at almost midnight the night beforehand, she had not immediately agreed to the plan. In addition to its suddenness, a car ride to Seaview High School, which only lay blocks away from her house would dramatically cut down on the alone time she had been looking forward to as a result of her sprained ankle. Despite Lilly's protests, the boy seemed to have been possessed of an unnatural confidence, absolutely refusing to take no for an answer. Lilly had been forced to agree to the arrangement, leading to her current situation.
Sitting at her dining room table, her eyes attached themselves to the front door of her house and tenaciously clung to the solid block of mahogany. Any second now the doorbell would ring and she would be released from the paper prison her father had set before her and into the easy smile of Oliver. As if playing antagonist to her thoughts, her dad called out, "You know, it's impossible to will him to appear with your eyes."
"You never know until you try, Dad," said Lilly quickly, a twinge of annoyance peeking through her words.
The top half of Mr. Truscott's newspaper folded down, an action Lilly noticed with her ears. Looking at the back of his daughter's blond head, the man asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to school instead? He's probably going to be driving … that thing."
"I'm sure, Dad," answered Lilly curtly, exasperation no longer taking a back seat to politeness.
From the nearby kitchen, Lilly's mother, or rather her voice, entered into the fray by soothingly saying, "Leave her alone, honey. She just wants to ride to school alone with Oliver." Her tone effortlessly transformed into an accusatory one as she added, "We wanted the same type of thing when we were her age."
"Mom!" squealed Lilly as a deep blush rose to her cheeks.
Unable to stand alone against the two most important women in his life, Mr. Truscott prepared to bring his newspaper back up to full mast. Before it came back up, he loudly muttered, "I just don't feel that that thing is a safe enough vehicle for our little girl. I mean …" his musings were interrupted by the loud sputtering of an engine as it struggled against the upwards inclining road. As his newspaper finally rose, he finished, "Speak of the devil's chariot."
Lilly shot her father a withering look which harmlessly bounced off of the front page of the New York Times. The mission of the look unaccomplished, she bent down to gather up her crutches and zoom away from her dining room table. By the time her doorbell rang she had already managed to move over to the front door and put on her sneakers. Because of these preparations, before Oliver's finger had even left the doorbell ringer, a blonde blur had opened the door and rushed past him.
Oliver sent a vigorous greeting complete with a wide smile and a generous wave to Lilly's parents before closing the front door and following after the girl. By the time he caught up to her, her back was leaning against the sports utility vehicle that her father refused to even acknowledge as an automobile. As the boy opened the passenger seat door for her, she teased, "I can't believe you agreed to drive the hot pink SUV."
"I've told you before; it's really, really light red," joked Oliver as he took Lilly's crutches and tossed them onto the backseat.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," conceded Lilly as she adjusted her position in the passenger seat.
With a dreamy grin on his face, Oliver confessed under his breath, "Oh, I slept like a baby last night."
"What was that?" called the girl as he crossed the front of the automobile to get to the driver's seat.
The boy let out a quick, "Nothing," as he climbed into the SUV. Once seated, he gave away his status as a new driver by going through the elaborate ritual of checking everything around him.
While he nervously re-adjusted the mirrors away from and back towards their original positions, Lilly asked, "What's the story behind this thing again? Your mom won it or something, right?"
Turning the key in the ignition and listening intently to the engine as it roared into life, he corrected, "It's more like no one won it. It was a leftover from a police auction."
"I thought those auctions sold things for incredibly cheap," said Lilly as she looked around the interior. A faded shade of light brown covered every inch of the cabin and the felt roof covering was ripped at random intervals.
"I think it was going for 50 bucks or something," recalled Oliver as he finally shifted the car into gear.
A cold sweat broke out on the girl's forehead as her mind puzzled over why a working car with a price tag of 50 dollars would be passed over. Lending voice to her thoughts, she questioned, "What's wrong with it? Was it used for some evil purpose? Is it going to fall apart any second now?"
Oliver's current posture again gave away how recently he had received his license. The teen's face was stuck in a straightforward position, his hands glued to the steering wheel, and his eyes jumping from the road, to the mirrors, and back again. His body locked in the intense posture, his seemingly disconnected voice easily answered, "Well, the gas gauge doesn't work, the muffler is shot, there is no suspension to speak of, and the air conditioning is frustratingly incompetent at its job." Oliver allowed a couple of moments for his words to sink in before turning his head towards Lilly and adding with a grin, "Plus, I don't think there are many people that can truly appreciate the color of really, really light red."
Lilly burst into laughter easily, as she always did when Oliver was around. She could have really used him last night after the exchange of words with her father. At least he was probably able to help Miley out of her funk. "How was the mall last night, by the way?"
Oliver's muscles tightened suddenly. He had warned Miley the night before not to tell Lilly that he had showed her the spot. Miley had been against lying to their best friend, a position Oliver had agreed with. His plan didn't call for lying so much as a lack of full disclosure. Going along with the plan, he said, "It was a normal walk to the mall."
"Normal walk, eh?" asked Lilly as she leaned her head towards the open window. As she felt the wind flow through her hair, she wistfully said, "It must have been nice to walk normally." Oliver's eyes took an automatic peak at Lilly's wrapped ankle, interrupting his road/mirror shuffle. As his eyes shifted back to the road, Lilly asked, "So how are your arms feeling? They were killing you after the last time she dragged you along, weren't they?"
"Oh, Miley actually didn't buy anything yesterday," said Oliver. Noticing the girl looking at him questioningly out of the corner of his eye, Oliver added quickly, "She had just gone shopping a few days before, after all."
"That's still pretty surprising, actually," said Lilly, her eyes moving towards the roof as she tried to recall the last time Miley had walked away from the mall with her empty-handed.
Desperate to change the subject, Oliver asked, "So how is your ankle feeling?"
Lilly's eyes moved towards her ankle as she rolled it experimentally. "I should be able to walk within a week, I'm guessing. I shouldn't get back up on the skateboard for a little longer, though."
As Lilly moved on to what she planned to do when she could walk normally, Oliver silently prayed that Miley wouldn't run into any trouble dodging the question of where they had gone the day before.
"So did you have that test yet?" Miley asked Lilly as she mindlessly forked through her salad.
"I'm pretty sure I did ok," answered Lilly, rounding out her uneasy sentence with a shrug of her shoulders. "I'll find out in a couple of days, so no use worrying about it now."
Miley nodded approval of her friend's attitude. "I wish I could think like that," admitted Miley wistfully. "If I were you, I would spend every waking moment thinking about it." Lilly's eyes locked onto Miley's as a silent warning to not continue. Unfortunately, Miley seemed not to have noticed her friend's silent plea, so she continued, "I would be worrying if I put any of the questions down wrong, you know those stupid mistakes that show up every now and then." Lilly's pleading eyes left her friend's as she began to replay the test process in her mind. "Oh, and if I could remember any fragment of any test question, I would be searching a textbook for the answer."
Just as Lilly had managed to remove a hefty textbook from her red messenger bag, Oliver's voice announced from directly behind her in a horrible French accent, "Lunch has arrived, mademoiselle." Balancing two trays of school lunches on his arm, Oliver carefully sat down on the bench to the left of Lilly and slid a serving of spaghetti and meatballs in front of her.
"Thanks, Oliver," muttered Lilly, her attention drawn to the textbook on her lap that she was feverishly flipping through.
Turning his own attention towards Miley, the boy asked, "What's wrong with her?" Miley claimed ignorance with a shrug of her shoulders as she chewed on a mouthful of dressing soaked roughage. After peeking over Lilly's right shoulder for a little bit, Oliver's gaze shifted back to Miley. The eye contact between the two teens was as effective as a hastily scribble note passed during class, and Oliver came to understand that Lilly had been trapped inside of test paranoia for a reason.
After the boy had begun unwrapping his cheeseburger, Miley went back to worrying at her salad. Although Oliver had explained the reasoning behind their deception over his hotdog smorgasbord the night before, Miley still wasn't sure if she had grasped the concept fully. There had been something about a bored afternoon, a big, black dog, and a senile grandparent. Normally Miley would have been able to follow the story, but Oliver had told it between, and occasionally through, mouthfuls of hotdog. Although he had only billed Miley for four of them, the boy had continued to eat through at least double that number. The general gist of it was that Oliver had sworn to Lilly, apparently upon penalty of death by tickling, that he would never reveal the location to another human being.
What really puzzled Miley was how easily she had agreed to the plan. While she considered both of her lunch mates her best friends, the female factor had always made her feel closer to Lilly. Because of that, while Lilly and Miley withheld things from Oliver from time to time, it was the first time that she had entered into such a confidence with Oliver. There had been something about that night that had changed her opinion of him. Maybe it was the fact that he had broken an ancient promise solely for her sake. Perhaps it was the manly presence and confidence that he exuded as he led her down the rock path towards the beach. Then again, it could have been something as simple as the way that he had wolfed down his stack of hot dogs, which had reminded her powerfully of her father.
Her musing was interrupted by the all too familiar sound of a crowd of girls hovering around an idol. Lifting her gaze from her salad, she was greeted with the sight of Jake Ryan carrying a large, cloth covered bundle in his arms. As he approached Miley, Jake's swarm of adoring fans scattered to the four corners of the lunch room.
The superstar stood impressively tall and handsome before Miley. After making eye contact with the girl, his face turned towards her friends. Displaying an actor's dazzling smile and soothing voice, he asked, "Can I have some privacy with my girlfriend, guys?"
Blushing, Lilly prepared to vacate her position. She was surprised when she felt Oliver's hand on her left shoulder, pushing down slightly to indicate that they weren't going to be moving. Turning her face towards Oliver, she found that he was looking towards Miley, who seemed to be looking straight back at him. An icy feeling spread through Lilly's chest along with the realization that she was the odd man out. As she began to wrestle with her feelings, Oliver, with his eyes still locked on Miley's, calmly stated, "I don't think we're going anywhere, Jake."
The eye contact between Miley and Oliver was noticeable even to the impossibly dense action movie star, but he decided to ignore it as he moved to the left of Miley and placed his bundle on the table. Taking a seat, he continued to use his dazzling smile and soothing voice while he said, "Miley, I don't know what I did, but I'm really sorry."
Miley refused to become ensnared by Jake's good looks so she glued her eyes to her salad. "It's not something you can control, Jake," she said softly as she rolled a sun dried tomato with her fork.
"Then why hold it against me?" asked Jake smoothly. "Take me for what I am: a superstar, handsome, great-looking, cute, hot, and deeply in love with Miley Stewart."
"Look, Jake," started Miley, finally picking her gaze up from her lunch.
"No, no. You look, Miley," interrupted Jake. He had been waiting for her to look up from her salad before he revealed the identity of his bundle. Taking a firm grip on the cloth, he yanked it away with a dramatic flourish.
Hidden underneath the covering was a heart shaped wreath. A closer look revealed that the red and green item was composed entirely of woven roses and sprigs of mistletoe. In the middle of the wreath a blown up picture of Miley and Jake standing together was displayed prominently. It would have been a very romantic gesture if not for the contents of the picture.
"That's me in the swan dress … with my arms up … with the fake armpit hair!" sputtered a horrified Miley as her eyes bounced from detail to horrible detail.
"It's the only picture I could find with the two of us together," said Jake, leaning backwards to get a full view of his present. After staring at it intently, he turned towards Miley and honestly asked, "I look nice, right?"
Groaning, Miley removed her eyes from the picture long enough to survey the area. A sizeable group had gathered around the lunch table, all of whom were now either laughing or at the very least snickering. Even Lilly and Oliver couldn't stop smiles from appearing on their lips. She really couldn't blame them. If this were happening to someone else, she was certain that it would be hilarious.
There was a brief struggle while Miley stood up and forcibly retrieved the cloth covering from Jake's grasp. Once she had accomplished that task, she hastily covered the wreath with a cloth. This action caused the surrounding group to murmur their disapproval, a sound Miley countered by waving her hands as though dispersing a cloud of unwanted vapors while saying, "Yeah, yeah. Go about your business. There's nothing to see here, people."
After the crowd dispersed, Miley heavily sat back down on her chair and rounded on Jake. Recognizing the look in her eyes as a dangerous one, Jake did the best he could to protect his moneymaker: both of his hands shooting up to cover his face. Instead of the physical slap he expected, Miley spat out, "How could you do something so stupid?"
"I thought it was a thoughtful and romantic gesture," whined Jake, his hands slowly, cautiously moving back down to his sides. "I mean, my character did the same thing in Zombie State, and he got the girl in the end."
From across the table, Oliver's voice shot out, "This isn't one of your stupid movies, Jake." There was a lull in the conversation as all of the eyes at the table directed themselves at Oliver. Although his face reddened slightly at the attention, he continued to aim its annoyed expression in Jake's direction.
As Jake was the one being challenged, it was only fitting that he be the one to break the silence. His surprised expression transforming into a small smirk, Jake said in an apologetic tone, "Look, Oliver. I'm really sorry to say this, but this conversation doesn't concern you."
Oliver leaned forward slightly as he answered, "Actually, it does concern me." In a direct imitation of Lilly, he nodded his head after each word as though explaining things to a small child as he continued, "You see, you just embarrassed one of my best friends."
All apology dropped from Jake's voice as he aggressively muttered, "Yeah, whatever, man." His face then turned towards Miley's, his voice picking up a tone of sincerity as it said, "Miley, we've danced around this issue enough to know that we're made for each other."
"More like you've broken up enough to know that you're not made for each other," countered Oliver, again drawing surprised expressions from the occupants of the table. At first, Oliver wondered why they all looked so surprised that he had spoken, but he came to realize that while he had held these thoughts from the beginning of Miley's relationship with Jake, it was the first time he was actually voicing them; and it felt good.
"Hey, Oken. You're really starting to get on my nerves," said Jake, finally turning his entire body towards Oliver.
Unfazed by the superstar's change in posture, Oliver stated, "You've been on mine for a long time now."
"You wanna take this outside or something?" asked Jake, the small smirk returning to his lips.
Miley interrupted the stockpiling of adrenaline and testosterone by standing up suddenly and slamming her hands down on the table. Ignoring the attention this drew from the surrounding lunch tables, she forcefully commanded, "Stop already! You're acting like an idiot!"
When Jake looked up to Miley to apologize he noticed a couple of unexpected things. The first was that her face was a particularly cute shade of bright red. As Hannah Montana, Miley was used to being closely scrutinized by the cold, artificial eye of the media. Drawing a few gazes from nearby high school students wouldn't have this effect on her. The second was that she hadn't been addressing him at all with her outburst. Her eyes were fixed directly on Oliver.
Jake realized with a start that he was fighting a losing battle at the moment, so it would be best to retreat and regroup. Standing up next to Miley, he allowed himself to tower over her for a few seconds. He knew she liked that fact that he was taller than her. Finally, once he was sure he at least had her attention, he said, "We'll talk about this later when you're not so distracted, Miley."
As Jake began to walk away, he was pleasantly surprised to hear Miley call out, "Wait, Jake!"
Turning around with a big grin on his face, he asked, "Yes, Miley?" He immediately regretted that he did not turn around before grinning. The girl's arms were crossed tightly against her chest, and her face was still displaying extreme signs of annoyance.
"Don't forget to take that," commanded Miley, her left hand indicating the covered wreath without moving from its nestled position in the crook of her right arm. Jake complied silently, but as he was removing the object from the table, he caught Oliver's eye. After sending a haughty smirk at Oliver, he marched away, wreath in hand.
Once Jake had retreated from the lunch table, Miley finally sat back down. She then focused on letting out all of her frustration and tension with a couple of deep breaths before returning to her lunch. Oliver's attention went back to his cheeseburger, but his mind was concentrated on the last non-verbal message sent by Jake before he had left. Meanwhile, Lilly tried to piece together the puzzle that her friends had dumped in her lap. Why did she suddenly feel so out of the loop?
And thus the teens spent the quietest lunch in their long history together.
Author's Note: No reviews for the last chapter. I really didn't expect that, considering it was probably the most Moliver heavy chapter of the story so far, meaning that we're finally moving towards the original aim of this story: a love triangle. This leads me to a few possible conclusions. One possibility is that my readers are expecting some form of excellence from my writing that was not displayed in the previous chapter. Another is that my remaining readers are all Loliver fans, and affronted by my sneak attack on their ship. And the last is that I frightened away my reviewers with the now invisible author's rant of a couple chapters previous.
If it's the former two, there really isn't anything I can do about it. I set out to write this story with certain goals in mind using my particular style of writing, and I'm not planning to sway from either of those two aims. If it's the last, however, I feel I must apologize. I didn't mean it as an attack against criticism or reviews, only against claims without proper backing by people who refuse to reveal themselves for proper discussion.
Also, I wanted to make sure that the readers knew that when I started writing again about a week ago, the first chapter I added is now in the position of Chapter 5, not 8. I only bring this up because it makes me suspicious when that addition hasn't received more hits overall than the chapters surrounding it, a sign that my warning may have been missed by some.
And lastly, as I did in chapters previous, but have neglected to do recently, I would like to thank the reader for getting this far in the story. It's finally almost to the point where I can start fleshing out scenes I had imagined when I started typing it out, and I'm pretty excited.