I know it's taken me awhile, and I'm sorry. October is too hectic for me to handle. Actually, just the fall in general. Hopefully winter offers more writing time since I hate the snow and being outdoors in 30 below weather. :D

I hope you guys like this one. I'm kinda fond of it for some reason... it was one of the first things I've written for this story. :p

Disclaimer: HEARTWARE IS MINEEEEEE. It's my baby. K? But Hannah Montana is not. I am not it's baby daddy... er, mommy.


HeartWare
by Broken Oken

chapter eleven: the empire state building of slides


Alarm clocks aren't the only things capable of waking me in the morning. What really stirred me from my wonderful sleep that day was definitely causing a lot more noise… and physical irritation. My shoulders had hands on them, each softly shaking me, and a whisper of a voice chanting, "Miley," repetitively. I groaned and pulled the covers back over my head. I so was not in the mood for anyone to be bothering me. Not like there was anyone worth talking to at this place anymore after yesterday… not to mention, my dreams truly piss me off

"Miley, wake up," the voice continued to say through my pink sheets, only louder, and I felt cold instantly enwrap me. What the—oh my God, the sheets had been taken from me! This intruder sure had a lot of nerve. I shivered instantly, shielding myself as best as I could with my arms.

"Go awayyyy," I moaned, stuffing my face further into the pillow.

"Hey—you're still in your clothes from last night?"

My eyes popped open, and I jumped to sit upright on my bed. And very strangely enough, just as in my dream, Oliver was standing there across from me, but now he was looking me up and down curiously. Warmth embedded in my cheeks—I swear it sort of looked like he was checking me out. But, logically, that wouldn't make much sense, since in the morning I always resembled a bed-headed monster. He would know, too; he's seen me like this a million times. And, not to mention, after crying myself to sleep last night, I was prone to looking even more terrifying.

"Oliver?" I questioned through the messy veil that was my bushel of hair.

He laughed a little, his footsteps creaking as he stepped forward, using a hand to wipe the hair out of my face. I twitched a little uncomfortably at the action, and then Oliver's smiling face turned grim.

"Miley, are you okay?" He blinked rapidly in a puzzled sort of way as he awaited my explanation as I simply stared at him. I hadn't noticed until then, but my window had at some point been opened, and the curtains were drawn back to create a blinding light onto the area around my bed…

And trust me at this random moment in time to suddenly realize his eyes are definitely prettier in the sunlight. What the hell? This was absolutely ridiculous.

I didn't know how to answer Oliver at first. It had hit me that I had been bawling my eyes out the night before with no one whatsoever to turn to. And Oliver wasn't there except to just carry me to my room. Oliver had promised me he'd be here for me no matter what, and Oliver had totally just broken that very promise. Did Oliver even deserve to hear my heartbroken self right now?

"Maybe," I said coldly after some time, snatching back my blankets to put over myself, though I'm not sure why when I wasn't even cold anymore. "How'd you get in here?"

"Lilly leant me her key." He carefully sat himself down on the bed next to me then, and I noticed he never broke eye contact. I still can't stop looking at those dumb eyes of his. Why, I have no idea. They look the same as always, only more… shiny?

"I got your voicemail last night, but I couldn't understand it. I tried calling, too, but you never answered."

Uh huh, likely story, asshole, I thought as I turned to my phone on my nightstand to check.

Um, wait.

Six New Text Messages. Okay… so what? He still didn't call.

Three New Voicemails. Um… still…

Oh, wow.

12 Missed Calls – Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver.

So maybe he had tried to comfort me… what was I doing? Sleeping?

Oh yeah, duh. He found me in the elevator.

"Geez, run up a phone bill much?" was all I could think of to mutter.

"You know just as well as I do that I get free minutes after nine," he told me with a very serious-ish tone. "And even if they weren't free, you'd still have just as much crap from me on there. So, tell me now, what happened?"

I sighed and toyed with one of my chaotic curls. "Jake…"

"Jake what? He didn't force you into anything, did he?" I looked up at him in alarm at that, and his face became sour. "Oh my God, I'm going to kick his a—"

"Oliver! He didn't force me into—anything!"

"Then what'd he do!?"

All at once my dry eyes felt wet. I had no idea how it happened, but I was now aware I was crying all over again. Somehow I now couldn't even speak. Oliver, however, I guess, didn't need to hear anything else; he just wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders, and brought me close, allowing me to bury my face into his collarbone. He must've said, "Shh, Miles, it's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay," at least a hundred times before I finally started to calm myself. Nonetheless, I still didn't believe him—just saying Jake's name was like a stab to the heart.

When I was relaxed enough to remove my head from his shoulder, I lifted it to meet more of his gaze. And that was precisely when a certain image etched into my head.

We had kissed in my dream last night. I had almost forgotten.

The picture of his lips coming onto mine burned my cheeks, and I hurriedly pushed myself away from him to stand up. Oliver, of course, grew concerned, and was about to open his mouth, when I found myself stopping him.

"Sorry, I just… bathroom." I needed to get away from him immediately so I high-tailed it to the place I'd specified, not bothering to look back at him once as I did so. Arriving inside the enclosed room at last, I pushed my back against the door and slid all the way down to the tiled floor.

Oh my God. I had a dream that Oliver and I… kissed. What the hell did that mean? Did I want to kiss Oliver? Um, no! But, in the dream… it wasn't really that gross. It was all, like, sorta normal and stuff. Hence why it was a dream. In real life, kissing Oliver would not be that simple. It would be complex. It would go against everything I've spent my entire life trying to prove to the world—that a guy and girl can just remain best friends, and nothing more.

I can dream about kissing my best friend. There is no rule against that. Especially since it meant nothing. I didn't really feel anything. I kind of wanted to. Shit. What does that even mean—

"Miley, you okay in there?" I heard Oliver call worriedly, and not knowing what else to do, I hastily reached over to flush the toilet when I hadn't even done anything in it.

"Um, yeah, just had to um, tinkle."

Wow, Miley. You totally just said that—out loud, by the way.

Wait a second, why is that even embarrassing in the first place? You've done and said so many worse things before. He's your best friend. He knows everything. He doesn't care if you had to "tinkle".

So why is my face so freaking hot???

I quickly looked into the mirror above the sink to notice that my reflection was, indeed, blushing. Oh, no. I could not go blushing around Oliver. Oooooh no. That would be so not good. That would imply things. Like, like, like… feelings. Of the more-than-friends variety… which I don't have.

Yes, Miley, you totally don't have feelings for the boy you last night in your dreams, completely made out with. That sounds about right. God, I am so messed up. Did I eat anything strange before bed or something?

No, but I did get dumped. Maybe that was it?

Counting to ten in my head, I eased open the door. I had to act like I wasn't feeling anything new. AND I'M TOTALLY NOT, BY THE WAY. Everything is fine, perfectly normal, wonderful even—

Until I opened that door to see Oliver standing there, raising his eyebrows, and my stomach twisted into about a million different knots in about ten different directions (a way it's never reacted before), so I started to fall over, and he ended up catching me with his, erm, strong arms, thus, creating a million more different knots. Holy hell.

"Miley, whoa," he said, ironically speaking what I was thinking, as he held me there. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," I murmured against his chest. "Just… heartache…"

Or something like that, my mind sneered.

"Jake broke up with you, didn't he?" he asked, not releasing his awkward hold on my body. Not that I was complaining. I mean… I just—I need to be held, okay? I am unstable. Yeah.

"You say that like you're unsurprised."

Finally he lifted me up from under my armpits and placed me on my feet. His hands moved to my shoulders, and unfortunately for my twisting stomach, his eyes moved directly into mine.

"Well, I know Miley Stewart doesn't cry too often, and I knew you liked him a bunch. I'm not unsurprised. I just guessed really… throwing it out there… I don't know, maybe it was some kind of wishful thinking." His face barely twitched at his last line, and he briskly continued, "I mean, I, uh, I-I just didn't think he was good for you. Didn't seem right in my opinion."

I sniffled as I felt more tears threatening at my eyes. I was so confused right now about my dumb stomach, and also heartbroken about Jake, that I had no idea what else to do but cry. So I decided to ask, against my better judgment, for the one thing that always seemed to make things better.

"Oliver… I just… need another hug."

I don't think even a second passed as he brought me back into his arms. My stomach lurched again, but I didn't care or take the time in my head to analyze the dumb feeling. I just needed a hug, alright? It just came as an added bonus that the hug smelt so… so… good

Oliver suddenly laughed, scaring me half out of my mind, and I jerked my head upward. "What?"

"I smell good, huh?"

Instantly I put my face back down to hide its flushing state. Did I say that out loud?

"Um, I don't know, I guess, yeah," I said awkwardly, confusing myself more in the process of doing so. "Er, leave me alone, I'm crying here."

He chuckled again, and pulled me in nearer to himself. A smile tugged at my lips.

"Oliver, can we… get out of here? I think I need fresh air. I'm not thinking clearly."

"You're telling me," he agreed, completely clueless about why I really wasn't thinking clearly, and that I personally thought being outside would get rid of his miraculous scent. "I don't think you've ever complimented my scent before. It's usually, 'Oh my God, Oliver, when's the last time you showered? 1999?'"

His horrible impression of my voice triggered me to hit him lightly. "Shut up." I started to head for the door, when I heard Oliver call my name. "What?"

"You're kinda still in your break-up clothes," he said, tilting his head.

I looked down at myself. "Oh, right. Here, just a second, let me change."

As I rushed into my closet to pull out some random clothes, and into the bathroom to put them on, I heard Oliver say, "I think I know where we're going, too."

"Oh, really? Where's that?"


The park was beautiful. Like, crazy beautiful. The sun was hitting the grass and playground just right. There was a metallic glint off the swings, and light peeked through branches of green-leaved trees. I would've loved to have my camera. I would've loved to just walk around and simply enjoy Mother Nature, too…

…but Oliver didn't just want us to walk around. He was all, "That's a boring idea," because he is such a boy it drives me nuts.

He wanted us to actually play on the playground there. I couldn't believe his childishness still existed in his built, I mean… adult body. But I really couldn't complain. I really just needed fresh air, and this was one way of getting it. But mainly, I was too worn out to argue with him today.

Pulling me by the arm, Oliver ushered me over to a ladder. I examined it critically, observing the giant red slide connected to it.

"Go up," the stupid boy commanded, stupid being the correct adjective since he knows about my height phobia.

"No thank you." I started to march away when he irritatingly tugged me back towards it.

"I said go up."

I have no idea why he thought saying it slower would make it sound like a better idea.

"I don't like heights, you know this," I complained, still not budging.

"You're conquering your fear today, I've decided."

I looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "You've decided? I don't think it's up to you."

He smirked. Oh, yay, here comes left field or some terribly perverted comment of his.

"I'll bet you twenty bucks you won't do it."

…or a bet?

"Twenty bucks?" I fidgeted, biting my lip as I stared at the ladder before me. It must've been, like, twenty feet high or something… a buck for every foot I climbed…? Probably not… When I look at tall things, they seem to appear a thousand feet higher than what they actually are…

"I don't know..."

He reached into his jeans pocket and then actually pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, waving it in my face tauntingly. "Mmm, smells like caaaasshhhh!"

I snarled. "Fine, I'll go down the stupid freaking slide."

He grinned (evilly, of course) and shoved it back into his pocket. There was a slight chance it might be staying there, I was afraid. But I sighed and grabbed myself steadily onto the ladder anyways, knowing he'd probably just throw me up there if I declined to go along with this crazy plan of his. And I don't like being thrown by Oliver because he is not a nice thrower. Especially not in pools. Hmm… Oliver in a pool… interesting…

FOCUS.

After I shook my head and had a good hold onto the ladder, I swallowed some air. Okay. That part wasn't so bad. Taking another giant, deep breath, I began my climb, failing at not noticing how badly I was shaking.

Don't look down, Miley, don't look down…

"You okay?" I heard Oliver call below me, and like an idiot, I decided to glance down to see him. Seriously, was I not just telling myself not to look down?!

And let me tell you, he was like… years away.

Oh my God. I couldn't do this. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of, which was to shut my eyes.

"Oliver!" I cried. "I'm stuck!"

"No, you're not! Keep going!"

I stupidly looked down again and suddenly felt nauseous. "I can't!"

"You can do it, Miles, just—"

"OLIVER OKEN, GET ME OFF THIS FUCKING LADDER, OR I'LL FUCKING SCREAM!"

"Miley, stop being dramatic—"

"AAAAAAAHHHH!!!" I shrieked as loud as I could possibly shriek, and all of a sudden I felt someone else's weight balance on the ladder beneath me. I glanced down worriedly to see Oliver had joined me. He, on the other hand, looked peeved.

"God, Miley, it's just a slide," he said as he climbed up towards me.

"Just a slide?" I repeated, astounded. "This is like, the Empire State Building of slides."

He approached at the step directly below mine and came to a halt, pressing a hand against my back. OOOOKAY. That should not have felt so funny. I shook violently as my stomach did another loop.

"Just breathe," he said coolly. "Or you're never gonna get down."

I began to whine. "Oliver, I don't like this. I can't move."

"You are going to move," he told me fiercely. "Up."

That was his brilliant plan?! He wasn't going to guide me down the dumb ladder?!

"Are you kidding me?" I hissed at him. "I just told you there is no way I'm going to do this!"

"Miley, nothing bad is going to happen to you!" he shouted angrily. "I'm right here behind you. If you fall, I'm going to catch you. Just trust me!"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm trying to help you." He put his hand on my back again, this time pressing it slightly. I have no idea how he thinks that helps my shaking problem, by the way. Because my shaking only intensifies, for some reason, whenever he lays a finger on me.

"Now, go up. And don't look down. That was your first mistake."

"Ya think?!"

"Go."

I mumbled to myself as I unsteadily moved further up the ladder. I got maybe two or three more up when I stopped again, about eight or so steps away from reaching the top. I so could not do this. I was totally going to fall and kill myself.

"Miley, c'mon," Oliver urged behind me like this was as easy as pie.

"But, I-I-I-I'm going to trip. One of these steps is going to be slippery, and I'm going to slip, and then—"

"Miley!" Oliver whisper yelled in my ear, and I tensed. "You can do this. I'm right here."

And quite suddenly, his hand moved to an area on my waist, and as the funny feeling registered with his touch, I lost a little balance, feeling my foot slip underneath me. But instead of collapsing into the ground or something, Oliver pushed upwards with his hand still on my back, and I regained posture.

"Seriously, just relax!" he said, sounding astonished.

Like, whatever! How can I relax when he keeps freaking touching me and making me feel all weird and stuff?! God.

In frustration, I finally propelled myself to the top of the ladder, meaning, the top of the slide. I breathed heavily as I got there, getting myself into a sitting position as soon as I could. How had I gotten up here in the first place? And why wasn't I happy about it?!

Oh yes, that's right, I still had the actual slide to do. I glared at it. It was pretty much a mega-monster slide with its hugeness and its multiple giant curving tunnels.

How annoying. The perfect picture of my stomach in its current state.

"Now, I'm going to go down the ladder, Miles," I heard Oliver say from behind me, and I snapped my neck around in alarm to see his head popped up just above the top step. "Don't worry!" he continued, seeing my face all freaked out and everything. "I'm going to be at the bottom of the slide waiting for you. All there's left to do is slide. You're already ninety percent done."

"But, Oliver! No! Don't go!" I pleaded but his head disappeared and his footsteps clanked down the ladder. Oh, freaking beautiful. He was going to pay. And I don't mean the twenty bucks either.

That was really my only motivation right now. The money… and hurting Oliver as soon as I was off this thing. I stared at the opening of the slide in determination. I mean, I had to go down it. There was no way I was going back down that crazy ladder unless Oliver was carrying me down it. Which would be physically impossible without practically killing ourselves, so I'm unfortunately back to the slide idea.

I scooted forward and took a deep breath. Well. Here goes nothing.

… and really, it was nothing. I know, kinda shocking, right? The ride was so fast I could barely remember anything except the rush of the tube's red color surrounding me, and my hair getting all messed up from the air flying through it.

And just like he said he would be, Oliver was at the end of it, smiling proudly like a parent to their daughter when he saw me.

"You did it, Miles!" he said, opening his arms like I was going to leap into them.

Uh huh. Yeah. Right.

I jumped out of the slide and began to angrily stomp away. And what the heck, he ran after me. Couldn't he get the message? That I didn't wanna look at his face right now?

"Hey! What's the problem now?" he was suddenly blocking my path, and I glared.

Unfortunately, when you're Oliver Oken, a glare does not tell you anything. So I was enforced to explain myself.

"What the heck were you thinking, making me do that? That was the scariest thing of my life, and you made me do it! On a day when I'm supposed to be getting cheered up, thank you very much!"

"I thought conquering a fear would cheer you up?"

What? That was the dumbest thing I've ever heard!

"Um, well, it didn't. Now I'm mad at both you and Jake."

He glowered, and placed his hands on my shoulders again. God, why does he keep doing that?

"Miley, wanna know why I did that? Like, for real?"

"That'd be nice," I barked.

He sighed. "I wanted to show you that you are capable of getting through things. You looked so heartbroken because of Jake, and I wanted to show you that no matter how hard it is, you can do it and get through it. Because you're that kind of a girl, Miley. You can do anything when you put your mind to it. It just takes a little prodding."

I didn't want to smile.

But I did anyways.

"…Really?"

"Yes, really," he was smiling now, too, looking almost relieved that I hadn't hit him or yelled at him again. "You don't realize how incredible you are, Miles. You can't let one stupid guy make you feel so worthless. I mean, you just conquered the 'Empire State Building of slides'. You can do anything."

I shuffled my feet around. Wow. Oliver being this sweet rarely happens. I wasn't totally sure of what I should say. I hated hugging people when you're supposed to be acting like you're mad at them—I'm stubborn like that.

"Oh… well… fine, I guess that deserves a hug, come here!" I extended my arms and jumped at him, feeling my smile practically break my cheekbones as he squeezed me back.

I love how I am always so flipping mad at him, and then within seconds, I want to give him the biggest embrace the world has ever seen. I don't know how he always manages to know the right words to say, and it's always right before I'm about to throw a rock at his head, too. Maybe he's psychic, I don't know.

I enjoyed his incredible smell once again as it laced into my nostrils while I snuggled my nose into his hoody. My stomach was feeling all sorts of loop-dee-loops and knots, like the slide I'd just ridden, but these loops suddenly reminded me of a feeling much more familiar…

butterflies.

I panicked inwardly. My heart was beating way out of control. This, this… This didn't mean I liked Oliver, right? I mean, he's Oliver!

Oh my God, why doesn't that sound like a bad idea anymore? Why does liking Oliver as more than a friend sound… good right now?!?

I looked up at him in alarm since my heart didn't seem to be rejecting the thought of him as a boyfriend like it used to. He smiled toothily down at me, and I almost wanted to throw up. In a… positive kind of way? And his eyes… so brown… Not poop-colored… And I've always been such a sucker for brown eyes…

"By the way, Miles, here's your twenty bucks."

My trance was broken as he pried out the bill from his pocket. I didn't want to take it, but I knew he'd make me anyways, so, saving us from another brutal disagreement, I snatched it away triumphantly.

"You know, you basically let me win this," I told him with a shy grin.

"I know. But how else are you going to pay for the three double chocolate fudge cookie dough strawberry whatever-you-want ice cream cartons you're going to chow down on tonight?"

I stared at him in confusion.

"You know, you girls and your broken heart fixtures. Ice cream, right? The more fattening, the better the cure?"

I giggled and tackled him with another hug. He froze like he was surprised and then graciously accepted it.

"Oliver, I have no idea what I'd do without you."

He laughed. "Be twenty dollars less richer?"

"Something like that."

And as we stood there in our embrace, and the butterflies danced about in my stomach, I realized that I'd never spoken truer words. I truly didn't have any idea what I'd do without him. I couldn't even imagine a day without him by my side. When I get married, I want him to be right next to me, as one of my "bridesmaids" or something… except, he's a guy, so I don't know how that'd work…

And that was when that image transformed into something else.

I didn't want him as a bridesmaid.

I pictured him in my wedding, yes, but…

Not as my husband-to-be.

With another few new butterflies at the thought, I slowly nestled my head back down against his chest. I wasn't… well… So maybe it was true after all. How had I not known? I was stupid? I was jealous? I was oblivious? All this time? How long had I really felt this way? Just these past weeks? Or had I been ignoring this feeling all my life?

The answers my brain was coming up with her terrifying… stunning even…

…. Maybe everyone's been right all along

Oliver moved his head, peeking at me from my forehead. "I love ya, Miles. I know I'm a major pain in the ass sometimes, but you're not always the biggest ball of sunshine yourself. But I do care about ya. And I know you won't admit it, but you care about me, too."

I looked down to hide my blush and rolled my eyes.

"Yeah… whatever."

We stood there with our arms locked around each other for a few more elongated minutes. I wasn't sure if he was ever going to let me go, and that was when I came to the conclusion that in reality, he never was. He was always going to be there with me even when the arms rested back at his side. It's because he said it himself—he loves me. Maybe not in the way everyone insists he does, but this boy genuinely cares about me more than probably my dad, or anyone else for that matter. During this sliver of time, I had someone in my arms who wouldn't care about the mistakes I've made, or would make, because he was probably the one helping me make them. I didn't need to be someone's definition of perfect because he simply saw me as me. There was no judgment, no harsh critique ever going on his eyes when he looked at me. I didn't have to be anything else but the person I am.

In his arms, I truly felt beautiful.

In his arms, I truly am in love.


.... corny, I know. :)

But hopefully you still review because y'all ROCK! and I loooove hearing your thoughts on everything going on in this lil story. What's sad is that it's not little at all, however... I'm not even halfway done. Argh!

Anyways, yeah... 'til next time?