A/N: I've been wandering all around the house today doing tour jetes and high kicks and singing "Sugar We're Going Down" or whatever that FOB song's called. Then I decided to focus my energy on this. Plus I got nauseated from all that wandering so I had to grab my laptop and sit in my nice cushy chair.
For some reason, I feel like changing the rating to T, so don't be weirded out by it, because nothing really bad's going to happen. Oliver's thoughts might just get a little less guarded, and his actions may follow suit. A ver.
pinknpreppy23: thanks! I love defining things and do it almost constantly in real life, and I judge clothing first on price, then on appearance. I do agree that there ought to be more Miley, which there will be, but seeing as this is kind of a behind-the-scenes thing it will mostly be conversations between Lilly and Oliver, and their escapades in which they attempt to avoid Miley.
StepInTime: thanks, and after reading your story, I know that you do as well! I always have a problem with journal stories because no human being can remember dialogue for even an hour and then write it down in immense detail, so I try to make it as realistic as possible. And I think Oliver's definitely the type to pick up a voice recorder just so he can remember things perfectly. And I'm like him too, in the same ways you are.
falloutboyLOVER27328: thanks! You said "I can't wait to read more" or something of the sort in your review, and I was merely saying that neither could I, seeing as I write the chapters as they come and not beforehand.
falloutboylover28327: I shall :-D
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Day Five7:35 AM
I got a good night's rest last night.
Unfortunately, for me, that is usually synonymous with "I'm gonna be late for school this morning." We'll see. I have twenty-five minutes to get to my Biology exam. I can do this. I can do this.
But I can't get ready and write in this journal at the same time. So, hasta after the exams.
11:51 AM
I'm sitting out here alone waiting for Lilly and Miley to finish their Algebra exams so we can head to the beach.
11:59 AM
Still waiting.
12:14 PM
And still waiting.
10:28 PM
Well, that was an eventful afternoon.
After our exams were over, Lilly, Miley and I took our various modes of transportation down to the beach. For some reason, neither of them have bikes, so Lilly brought her skateboard, Miley brought her red moped, and I brought my rollerblades. I don't know why we didn't just walk, but there you go.
Once we got to the locker rooms, we all changed (in our own genders' locker rooms, thankyouverymuch) and headed down to that little snack stand Jackson works at. Fortunately, he wasn't there. That's fortunate partially because I didn't really want to have to deal with his older-sibling behavior towards Miley and myself, and I'm sick of Lilly's incessant flirting with him. I'm a guy, so when I can tell that a girl's flirting, that's bad. Because I'm usually clueless about that stuff.
Anyhow, from the guy working at the stand, I got a hot dog. Lilly and Miley declined food, even when I offered to pay. I never do that. But I got a Sunkist for Miley (and pretended it was for me), because it's her favorite and I knew she'd get thirsty later on. Putting it into my backpack-which-doubles-as-a-beach-bag, we all de-vehicled (I put my blades in my bag too, somehow) and hiked across the warm sand to the beach.
Unfortunately, I couldn't whip the voice recorder out and record our whole three-hour funfest, so this whole thing is written from my mind-overheating attempts to remember everything that happened in full detail. This journal is a bad influence, not to mention an enemy of all my brain cells. But believe me, I couldn't forget this stuff if I tried.
The first thing that Lilly did was lay out her towel, sit on it, and proceed to put sunscreen on. The first thing that Miley did was lay her towel next to Lilly's, sit on it, and proceed to put sunscreen on. The first thing I did was lay down my towel next to Miley's, take my sunscreen out of my bag, for some reason, take my shirt off, and only then proceed to put sunscreen on.
The second thing that Lilly did was rummage around in her backpack for water shoes. The second thing that Miley did was stare at me in an incredibly embarrassing-yet-flattering manner. The second (and possibly stupidest) thing that I did was ask Miley, "Are you staring at me?"
"N-no," she said quickly, and I could tell that it wasn't the beginnings of sunburn that were making her face pink. She turned to Lilly and said, "Please, Lilly, put some sunscreen on my back."
And for a nanosecond, I seriously considered saying, "Let me do it."
And then I felt like a major sicko perv, so I just attempted finished up my own sunscreen, at a loss as to who would put sunscreen on my back.
Interloper as usual, Lilly noticed the difficulty with which I was having as I was attempting to smear the feminine-smelling goop on my back by myself, so looking at Miley, she said, "Why don't you help Oliver out? I've got to get a sandwich."
"Um, okay," Miley said, and I could tell that it took her effort to steady her voice. As she turned away from Lilly, during the second she wasn't facing either of us but the ground I shot Lilly a particularly venomous Look. She shrugged and disappeared.
Both of us sat in an awkward silence so heavy that had there been a barometer between us, it would have shown clear skies despite the clouds overhead and the rain that the radar that morning had promised. Going to the beach in the rain had never been a problem for us, because we didn't so much swim as we did hang out and talk. However, I was sure that we'd be spending more time than usual in the water, given how uncomfortable Miley's and my relationship had become over such a short period of time.
I squealed as something really cold hit my back, and I heard Miley laugh quietly. "It's just sunscreen," she said softly as she put her hand into the chilly goop and smoothed it around.
But she was wrong. It wasn't just sunscreen. The second her hand touched my shoulder I got chills, and believe me, the sunscreen was warm with body heat by this time. Again, I sound like a major sicko perv. After I'm sure my back was covered with enough sunscreen to protect it if I were standing within five hundred feet of the star, she turned and looked at me with this extremely gorgeous smile. "Lilly up and left before she did my back. I guess it's your turn."
We both turned around so that I was facing her back. Handing me the sunscreen tube, she shot me another brilliant smile. I squeezed the Banana Boat into my hand and started… where? Miley was wearing an aqua-and-maroon striped bikini, and I realized that this was a very precarious position that the two of us were in. Gently and trying not to startle her or make her uncomfortable, I dipped my fingers in the white goo and smeared it on her right shoulder, down to the straps of the top of her swimsuit. I ignored the fabric for the time being and went to her other shoulder, and then between the shoulder straps in the middle below her neck. The rest of the sunscreen I put in the small of her back, rubbing it slowly into the skin so she didn't look like the old ladies with the white noses.
"There," I said, admiring my work. Miley's head swiveled around, and she brought a hand up behind her back and rubbed underneath the straps of her suit.
"Excellent," she smiled.
We both scooted slightly around so that we were next to each other, our sun-warmed shoulders touching. "English tomorrow," I remarked randomly, watching yachts float on the horizon between Earth and vast sky.
I felt her hair fall around my arm and her head touch my shoulder. Miley's leaning her head on my shoulder, I thought, elated, and put an arm around her. It was all so romantic there for five minutes, the two of us leaning on each other, that is, until…
"Hey, who wants pastrami?"
Miley and I sprang apart like a flabbergasted mousetrap. "Uh…"
"We were just…"
Lilly held up her non-sandwich-occupied hand in surrender. "I know, I know, blah blah blah. If I didn't trust the two of you, I wouldn't have left you here alone." She smiled a knowing smile, and I realized that it's easy to hate and appreciate someone at the same time.
With a (hopefully) brilliant smile at Miley, I suddenly got up, ran through the surf, and did a shallow lifeguard dive into the Malibu water. The beach here is short, about ten feet from rocky cliffs to shore, and the water gets deep fast. I heard her playfully indignant scream, and I heard her splashing gracelessly through the shallows. Stopping on the sandbar, I encouraged her. "Come on, Miles," I cried.
"I can't reach," she wailed, doing a pathetic doggy paddle through the deeper parts. Swimming forward to her side, I took her hand and pulled her alongside me as we semi-doggy paddled in synch. Finally our feet touched down and she bobbed next to me. "We left Lilly on the shore all by herself."
"She and Mr. Pastrami will be very happy together," I said with a chuckle.
We splashed each other, swam around, et cetera. I put seaweed on her head, and she put a hermit crab on my shoulder. We each had our share of screams and laughs, and after about an hour out in the water, we decided to race each other back to shore.
Miley won. We collapsed, exhausted, on our respective towels, but not without a quick glance to make sure Lilly was in her standard spot flirting with Jackson, whose shift had probably started about twenty minutes earlier. She was, and I picked up the warm, flat Sunkist. "Soda?"
With one of those sleepy smiles that slowly, warmly creeps over the face, Miley smiled at me and accepted the drink, taking a few gulps and putting it back down. She curled up, facing away from me, and within moments, she was asleep. I rolled onto my side to face her back, putting a hand under my cheek and my elbow on my towel. Her chest rose slowly but surely, ensuring a steady oxygen supply to keep her on our Earth. She didn't move, looked dead, but her breathing was a promise I had to believe.
I guess I rolled over to sleep too, because when I woke up, my arm was around her waist and she was still sleeping. I held in a small shriek and moved jerkily away from her. "What have I done?" I asked myself in horror, getting up and pulling my towel over my shoulder. I thought better of it and put it over Miley so she wouldn't get badly burned. I slung my backpack on and practically ran to the snack stand, where Lilly and Jackson were laughing over milkshakes.
"Where're you going, Oliver?" Lilly asked, surprised.
"I just… have to go home," I said, flushed. "I ruined it all."
And I strapped my blades on and left.
Here I am now, sitting on my bed as I have been since I returned from the beach. Lilly's called me, Miley's called me, Jackson's even called me. I yelled at Anthony when he came to bring me dinner, I yelled at Anne, I yelled at Mom, and I spent the rest of the evening mulling over my actions. I slept with her—no, not like that, you foul-minded creep. I mean I slept in her vicinity, in an intimate, but not sexual, way. And I ruined it all. She knows now that I… I love her. What am I going to do?