Nick doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing Miley sing his song. He's pretty sure she doesn't even know that she's doing it half the time. He'll just catch her in the moment.

That's what's happening now. He was going to ask her where the remote was for the T.V., hoping to catch the start of the Yankees game. But he stopped himself once he saw her in the bathroom, doing a little dance in front of the mirror.

"I wanna write you a love song. I wanna whisper in your ear."

He smiles. Leaning against the door frame, he tries to stay quiet. It might seem strange, but he finds every little thing she does to be completely entrancing. He's so content just by being around her.

"Why do you keep spying on me, you creep?"

Nick gasps, finding Miley starting at him through her reflection. "I'm not spying."

"You didn't tell me that you were standing there."

"I didn't want to bother you."

"I'm not really doing anything important," she laughs. "Just getting my stuff together."

"I guess."

"So did you need something, or—"

"Uh, the remote. For the T.V. in the other room."

"I think it's next to the lamp. The one that's on the side table."

"Okay."

Miley grins. "Anything else?"

"No. That's it, I think."

"All right. So get out of here." She crinkles her nose at him, making him laugh before she shuts the door.

Nick trudges through to the sitting area. The remote's sitting right where she said it was, but then he discovers that the game's been delayed due to rain. He decides to get comfortable against the pillows. He wrestles his phone out of his pocket and reads through the lyrics he's saved on it.

He wants to make the song perfect for her. Every time he catches her, it's like she breathes a new energy into it. And all Nick can do is desperately try to capture it.

"So you ask me where the remote is, and then you don't even put the T.V. on."

"Rain delay."

"For how long?" she asks, climbing across his legs.

"Until the rain stops."

"Smartass." Miley leans over. She presses her lips to his temple. Nick immediately jerks away at the contact, whining softly. "What? What's wrong?"

"I'm working."

"Oh, you're working. What could you possibly be working on?"

"Music."

"Not my song, though, right? You're leaving that alone."

His eyes stay fixated on the screen.

So Miley twists her head to get a look at it herself. "Nick," she cries, not even having to read fully through the first line before recognizing it, "that is my song."

"I wrote it."

"Well, stop rewriting it."

Huffing, Nick finally looks up at her. "I just want to make it perfect."

"It is perfect. You're going to destroy it if you obsess over every word."

"I can't help it."

"I think," she says, prying the phone from his fingers, "you should take all the work you're putting into this song and use it to write me another."

That's what Nick really wants. He's been catching random melodies and rhyming phrases passing through his head. He just needs to get them in order. He knows whatever he writes next has to be as good as the first. Better than the first.

"I'm trying."

"Maybe you could use some help. I could try to inspire you."

"Okay."

She watches as he sits back. Nick focuses his eyes on her, tilting his head to the side in intrigue. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't even make another movement.

"Well," Miley huffs, "are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"I'm thinking."

"You have to think about kissing me?"

"I'm thinking about you," he says. "About what part of you to start the song with."

"How about my lips and how good they feel against yours?"

Nick shakes his head, holds her off. "This is going to be different than it was with those other guys. Remember?"

"I remember."

"So we're taking it slow."

"If you consider last night taking it slow, I'd love to see what you're capable of at full speed."

His face blooms into a rosy red color at her comment. "I had a moment of weakness," he sighs. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for that."

"You deserved better from me."

"No, I deserved another hour of you in my bed."

Nick bites at his lip, willing himself to stay composed. "Miley," he says, "come on. I want to be serious now."

"Let's have fun instead," she replies. "I'm going to be on my bus tonight. You'll be on Joe's. I won't see you until tomorrow."

"We were just separated for twelve days."

"Which is why I've learned to make the most out of our time together."

Nick tightens his hold on her arms as she leans in for his neck. "Miley."

"I'm only trying to kiss you."

He knows that the longer he pushes her away, the more irritated she's going to get. So he decides to switch methods.

Sitting up, he draws her in. His lips mold around the curve of hers, and it suddenly feels like it's been much too long since he kissed her last. No wonder she was pushing so hard for this.

She's half on top of him now. Miley's somehow able to keep their mouths pressed together while she tugs on Nick's hips, swinging his legs onto the floor.

It's only when she's slipping her way between them that he figures out where this is going.

"Miley—"

"Relax, N.J.. It's fine."

"You don't—"

"I want to," she says, bracing her arms against his thighs. "Look, I know that sex is off limits, but you can't tell me that you've never had a blow job before."

Nick realizes that this isn't going to work either. He thought that maybe if he calmed her down, she'd be more willing to talk. That, he knows now, was stupid.

So he reaches for her hands. He pulls her up from the floor and into his lap. "We're taking it slow."

"Wait. You've never—"

Groaning, Nick throws his head back. He can't win.

She laughs. "I know you have." Miley gets up. "I'm going to call the hotel about tomorrow while you calm down, then."

"I am calm."

"Sure, you are," she says, rubbing his back affectionately.

Miley thinks it's cute that he gets shy around her. It's a little reminder that he still is kind of a boy after all. Trying desperately to be so good all the time but losing out to instinct and desire every so often. And if she's the catalyst for the switch over, hey, she's not complaining.

She's been on the phone with the manager from the Tampa hotel for over fifteen minutes when she feels a pair of arms swoop around her waist. Miley leans back into Nick's hold, sighs as he kisses her hairline.

You okay?, she mouths to him.

I have to leave, he answers in the same fashion.

Her fingers tighten around his wrist to hold his attention. Five minutes, she begs.

Nick nods and sits on her bed.

"—and two milk chocolates on each pillow once the bed is made," the voice from the receiver rattles off. "Anything else, miss?"

"No. Oh, yes, actually," she says, taking another look at the long list of Joe's requests. "The main suite also needs a tray full of fresh fruit upon arrival at seven tomorrow morning. The fruit should already be sliced or cubed and include watermelon, oranges, mangos, pineapple—"

"Extra pineapple."

"Extra pineapple," she stresses, still smirking at Nick's interruption. "As well as honeydew and cantaloupe. A separate bowl of grapes may also be included, but only if they're red and not green."

"Yes, miss. We'll bring it up to the room five minutes before the expected arrival time."

"Thank you. And if there are any issues, please call me immediately. You have my number."

After exchanging goodbyes, Miley slips her phone away. She climbs onto the mattress where Nick is now stretched out on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Can I talk to you," she teases, "or are you working?"

He grins. "I'm not working. I'm just thinking about last night."

"About the sweet memories we made in this bed?"

Miley watches as he fights the urge the laugh. When he finally manages to collect himself, he rolls onto his hip, presses his hand to her thigh. "If I tell you a secret, will you tell me one?"

Her eyes narrow. "What kind of secret?"

"Any kind. We'll just ask a question about the other."

"Do I have to answer it?"

Nick shrugs. "We can have one pass each. Is that fair?"

"I guess."

"You can even go first."

"Okay," she replies. "Who was the first girl to—"

"Pass."

Miley rolls back against the mattress. "You didn't even let me finish."

"I already knew what you were going to ask."

"Fine. You're touchy with the personal topics." She taps her finger against her lips, thinking. "I want to know...what the first line that you wrote for my song was."

He swallows. He lowers himself against her, his forehead pressed to her temple. "I wanna be the right when it's wrong," he coos into her ear.

Miley looks up at him and almost regrets it. The intensity in his eyes just a bit too much to bear. "Why?"

"The first time we kissed—in Chicago—I was thinking about why we shouldn't be together. How I wanted to be with you, but how I knew that it wouldn't be easy. How something that seemed to be wrong could really be right."

"Do you still think it's wrong?"

"No. Do you?"

She curls her fingers around his jaw. "This feels right to me."

Nick hums low. He wants to kiss her, but he's all too familiar with how easy it is for her to pull him in. "It's my turn, then."

"Go ahead."

"Who was the first guy—"

"Pass."

He smirks. "You didn't let me finish."

"I knew what you were going to ask," she teases.

So they'll have to take this slow, too, he thinks. "Will you let this be different than it was with the others?"

"I...want to," she offers. "I don't know how easy it's going to be though."

"I'll help you."

"I know you will, N.J.. It's just that this, you and me, isn't what I'm used to. I mean, you alone are completely different from everyone else that I—"

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

Miley blinks. "You what?"

"You should think about it, okay? I mean, you don't have to tell me now. I'm going to ask you for real when we get to Florida."

"Why? Why don't you just ask me now?"

"Because I know that this is going to be a change for you, that you've never had this before. And I'm going to treat you the way that you deserve. I'll take such good care of you, but only if you want me to."

"Oh."

He inhales deep. "I'm falling so hard for you, Miley," he confesses, running his blunt fingernails in circles over her leg. "If you don't feel—or aren't starting to feel—the way that I am, I need you to tell me."

"Nick—"

"Not now, though. Not until Florida, okay?"

"Okay," she says. "But you should know that as soon as we get there, I'm going to find you."

Nick grins. "You're gonna run on my bus and tell me?"

"Mhm. Just jump in your bunk and wake you up."

"Everyone will find out."

"I don't care," Miley replies, combing his hair back. "I just want you."

He leans in, presses himself against her as close as he can. "I care, though. I can't keep you with me if they all know."

"Fine. You'll know. As long as you'll know, that's all that matters."

A buzzing sound cuts through the quiet air. Miley reaches around to his pocket, drawing out his phone. "Who is it?" he asks.

"Your dad," she says. "Should I answer it and let him know that you're in my bed?"

"I'm on your bed. Not in it." He pries it from her fingers and stuffs the phone back in his jeans. "He probably thinks I'm still in the ballroom, working on something on the piano."

"Oh. What floor is the ballroom on?"

"This hotel doesn't have a ballroom."

Miley shakes her head. "You are something else."

"I know." He moves over to her bags, taps lightly at her tote. "This is the one you're keeping with you on the bus, right?"

"Yes, and before you ask, my laptop is in there. Juno is lined up in my Netflix queue, just like it is on yours."

"Okay, so call me as soon as you're all set up in your bunk. Then we'll start it at the same time. It'll be like we're watching together."

"I'm not staying on the phone with you for two hours."

"But I want to hear you laugh at all the funny parts."

Miley fights her hardest to resist a smile. Instead, she folds her arms and points at the door. "Go before they start looking for you."

"Promise you'll call."

"Nick, go."

"Promise."

"Fine, I'll call. Okay? I'll call." She grabs onto his hand, physically dragging him across the room. "Just go, Nick, before you get in trouble."

"I'm going."

Nick laughs as she shuts the door tight behind him. She can pretend like she doesn't care about him all she wants. He can see right through her.

He unlocks the door to his own room. His bags are against the wall, packed a full hour ago so that his dad would let him go to the ballroom. Now, there are another set of suitcases next to them: Joe's.

His brother is just a few feet away. He's casually reclined on the couch, his attention focused on the giant television screen.

"You watching the Yankee game?"

Joe reaches for the remote. Turns the volume louder.

Okay, so he's still giving Nick the silent treatment. That's cool.

He knows he deserves it. He's been to every one of Joe's shows while he's been on the road, except for the one last night. He got so caught up in Miley showing up at his room that he completely forgot that he was supposed to go to the concert. And of course, he couldn't tell Joe where he really was. Not that Joe will give him a chance to explain anyway.

Nick sits in the armchair beside his brother. "It's gonna be weird sleeping on the bus tonight. Haven't done that in almost two weeks."

Joe shuts his eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I know I already told you that, but it's like you don't believe me or something. I honestly had all intentions—"

The door beeps open, and their father walks in. "There you are, Nick. I just called you."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I was just working on something."

"So you're writing a new song?"

"I'm getting there."

"Good." His gaze darts between his two sons before he motions for them. "We're leaving now. Grab your bags so that we can head out."

Nick gets up and moves for his suitcase. He lets Joe take his own first before following him to the door. Of course, Joe lets it shut in his face.

"Smiling faces once we get downstairs," Kevin Sr. says as they head down to the lobby. "There are fans waiting outside."

"Okay," they reply simultaneously.

"Joe, you wanna stop and take some pictures, or get right on the bus?"

Nick's not in the mood to plaster on a fake grin. Joe can tell. That's why he's not surprised when his brother nods. "Yeah, we can stop for a minute or two."

So they go outside and get swallowed in the crowd. Nick's pushed and pulled in different directions. One girl's trying to wrap his arm around her while another presses herself right against his side.

He can't breathe.

Security's main focus, of course, is Joe. They keep the girls off, not letting them swarm him. Instead, they just stick out their arm once he's close enough to snap a quick photo on their phone.

Nick suffers through it for a good five minutes before he's rescued by his dad. Joe's sitting all content at the table on the bus with a big grin on his face. "Well, that was fun."

He scoffs. "Whatever."

"Hey, Nicholas," their dad interjects, "don't be rude."

"I wasn't being rude. I just didn't feel like standing out there and getting mobbed."

"It's over now, Princess. You can chill out."

Nick's jaw drops. "Are you going to say something to him?" he demands, turning to his dad. "He called me a princess. That's rude."

"The two of you need to stop this. You're brothers. By the time we get off this bus in Tampa, you're going to get along again."

Joe scrunches up his face. Grabbing his phone, he stalks off to the back of the bus. "He's the one with the problem," Nick points out. "I'm trying here."

"Maybe you should have tried a little harder to make it to his show."

Nick's never going to hear the end of this.

He follows after his brother. He finds him in the lounge, just sitting there on the sofa. Nick shuffles over. Keeping his eyes on Joe, he sits down next to him. "Can we talk?"

"You can talk. I have nothing to say to you."

He forces himself to not roll his eyes. "I apologize for missing your show in Dallas. You know that I wanted to be there. I was just...tired."

"So you slept through the alarm I set for you?"

No. Nick was already out of the hotel room before the alarm went off.

"Yeah."

"And you didn't hear the hotel manager knocking at your door to let you know that there was a car downstairs?"

He didn't. Nick was in a different car on the way to the restaurant when that happened.

"I guess not."

"They waited thirty minutes for you."

"I'm sorry, Joe. I had a long day, okay? I was exhausted."

"But Mom said that you were so excited to be coming back on the road. That you were starting to get bored just hanging at home."

"I am glad to be back here, Joe. And I'm not going to miss another show. I swear."

"It doesn't matter. I don't trust you anymore."

"Joe—"

"It sucked not having you here," Joe says. "It wasn't the same at all. I tried having a good time with everyone else, and then Miley started acting weird. Did I tell you that she kissed me?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, "you did."

"So she does that, and then she goes completely distant on me. I don't know what I did."

"You didn't do anything, Joe."

"Then, why wouldn't she want to be with me? I'm a decent guy. I'm funny. I'm talented. I could give her anything she wanted."

Except she doesn't want you, Nick wants to point out.

"I'm obviously doing something wrong. She gets with someone during every other tour. She joins my tour, and then decides to change?" He sighs. "I don't get it."

"Maybe she thinks you're too good for her."

"Yeah, okay. I'm sure that's it."

Nick reaches out, lightly tapping his brother's knee. "Hey. Don't be so hard on yourself. It's her loss, not yours."

"I just...I really like her, you know?"

Oh, Nick knows. He knows all too well.

"She's cool," Nick says. "But I'm here now, so you don't need her anyway."

Joe smirks. "So I can take you on date nights?"

"No. No date nights. Just hangouts."

He inches closer. "You mean we can't watch romantic comedies together?"

"No."

"Or hold hands?"

"Joe," Nick warns, trying to slide away.

"Or take a midnight stroll under the stars?"

"Joe!"

His brother flings himself into his chest. Nick topples off the couch, landing hard on the carpet with Joe on top of him. "Say you missed me," Joe says, holding Nick's arms over his head.

"I missed you."

"And tell me I'm the most attractive and talented of the Jonas Brothers."

"No way," Nick cries, squirming and kicking beneath him.

"Tell me, or I'm gonna hold you down until we get to Florida."

"Boys?" Kevin Sr. ducks in the room. "Real wrestling or play wrestling?"

"Play wrestling."

"Tell me," Joe says again once their dad is gone.

"You want me to lie to you?"

It only sends them both into laughter. "That's it," Joe replies, sitting on Nick's hips. "You're done for."

"Oh, come on. This isn't fair."

"All you have to do is—what's this?"

Nick's eyes flash down to what's captured his brother's attention. His shirt rode up a bit while Joe was wrestling him around. The material's now high enough to expose the prominent bruise Miley left on his hip.

"Dude," Joe mumbles, touching the discolored skin, "that looks like it hurt."

"Yeah, it...uh...it did."

"How did you get that?"

"I, well, I walked into a door."

"A door?"

"Mhm. Because the doorknob is, like, right at that level. And I wasn't looking, and I just walked into it."

"When?"

"Yesterday," he says. "I got up to use the bathroom in the dark."

"Oh. You must've been really tired then if you didn't see a door. They're pretty hard to miss, Nick."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Joe gasps. As he moves to lunge forward, Nick pushes on his chest. "You need to get up. I think you're, like, right on top of my bladder, and I really need to pee now."

"Excuses, excuses."

"I'm serious."

"Fine."

Nick scrambles to his feet, rushing for the bathroom. He pulls at his shirt to make sure that it's covering him up. He can't believe that he got away with it. That he was able to make up a story right there on the spot. He's so proud of himself that he doesn't even realize that his phone has slipped out of his pocket. That it's lying on the floor in the back lounge with Miley's name flashing across the screen, right in front of his brother's eyes.