Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana, and I most likely never will, so deal with the fact that I have to write stories. :)
A/N: AHHH! Oh my gosh. Okay. I just felt an urge to update this. :) Yay me!
And my awesome-tastic reviewers? :) Oooooh. You guys rock. :D
Chapter 5 - Understanding. Sort of.
"So, what do you want do?"
Oliver shrugged, walking around the living room, examining the ornaments, and picture frames on various shelves.
"Guard you, I suppose?"
"That's boring," she said, using a whiny voice. "Come on. Do I really look like I'm in danger now?" He unwillingly looked at her, to humour her, and attempted to swallow with his constricted throat. She batted her eyelashes at him, making him melt internally.
"No," he sighed. "What do you want to do then?"
"Let's just.. I dunno... hang out?" Her smile suddenly widened. "We'll get to know each other!"
He paled.
"I-- Are-- Are you sure your dad won't mind or something?"
She frowned at him.
"How old do you think I am?"
"23," he guessed, smirking.
She scowled. "Technically, I'm still 22, but that.. That doesn't matter. How old are you?"
"23."
She brightened. "We're the same age!"
"I suppose we are."
"Anyways - Do you really think my daddy cares that I'm hanging out with somebody?"
"He clearly cares that you've got a stalker."
She mumbled something incoherent, and shrugged.
He sighed. "Come on. Maybe we'll get some.. Coffee or something."
"Yay! Let me get my purse."
--
They carried their cups over to a quiet table at a corner of the restaurant. She sat down, and looked at him carefully.
He felt himself blush under her gaze, as he attempted to drink.
"What's up?" he asked uncomfortably.
"I really feel as if I know you," she said, her voice quiet.
"Really?"
"You just.. really remind me of this boy I used to lo--know."
He frowned at her word stumble.
"A boy you used to know? Why don't you know him anymore?"
"I.. I moved away - From him."
He raised his eyebrows. Maybe he'd get some answers finally.
"Why'd you move?"
"I -- I had something - I didn't want to ruin what we had-- He was an amazing friend.. Him along with my other best friend."
"You left both your best friends?"
"I know," she said softly, stirring her coffee slowly, looking at it intently. "I'm a horrible friend... But there's not a day that I don't regret that decision.. Maybe if I actually told him.. Why.. But.. I don't think he even wants to see me anymore."
"But.. Why would you do something like that? They were your best friends? Ever thought that maybe they wanted to help you?" He tried to keep his voice even.
"But - if I told them - And everything went wrong? What would happen then? So," she murmured, resting her chin on her hand. "I just.. I had this job offer for Hannah Montana in L.A. and I just.. moved.. there.. trying to bury myself under my work, to shield myself."
"I--"
She continued, "They were the best friends I've ever had.. I don't think I've ever met anybody that even compared to them."
He nodded, his heart un-icing a little, but he still felt a little bit of anger towards her.
"I still don't get it... Miley... You probably really hurt their feelings."
"I.. I was hoping to," she whispered. "I -- I didn't really want much contact with them - They'd ask questions.. Questions that I didn't think I'd be able to answer.. And - But now.. I regret it.."
"You should," he snapped suddenly. "They're your best friends - You shouldn't have done that to them. I wouldn't blame them if they didn't forgive you. Ever."
"Why do you care? That was cold."
He couldn't believe the audacity of this girl. "And what you did wasn't?!"
"It was--"
"I'm sorry, Miley - I have to go. I'll see you later or .. Whatever." He pushed back his chair, not able to even look at her.
She gaped at him, half-standing as well.
He left, throwing the Styrofoam coffee cup in the trash.
He didn't bother looking back to see whether she was following him.
She sat back down, confused out of her mind.
"What the heck?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She yawned and stretched, zoning out a little, as her eyes stared at the spot where he just left.
But.
Unbeknownst to both of them, a figure with sunglasses, leaning casually against the wall smirked, fingering the little hand recorder that was concealed in the sleeve of his sweater.
He chuckled quietly, and left, the smirk still plastered on his face.
When will Miley find out? Bwahahahaha. I don't know. :) I know - She didn't even ask for his name. But she's just.. overwhelmed right now. :) Review please.