A/N: Sorry it's taken so long, guys, but here is (finally) your second-to-last chapter of SDCD. School's a butt sometimes.

OMG, go to the Hannah Montana website on and look at Lilly's character description! You have to read it. Major OMG.

All the "she/I asked"s at the end are supposed to be like that, I'm not so stupid that I can't come up with other words to use.

To all the people who only ever say "please update" and "great story": thank you and I will.

uninspiredmuse: yeah, I love Oliver dearly and that's why I'm writing it from his POV.

Sidhe-anomaly: thank you so much! I love all of your stories, especially "Confessions of a Commitment-Phobe," which I swear I would review formally except the servers are freaking and it keeps saying it doesn't exist. But now that I go to your page and look for it it's not there… so I'm really confused!

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Day Three

5:45 PM

Lilly's here.

Hello, future readers of Oliver's random journal! Oh, this is so cool.

Yeah, that was her.

Anyway, she's helping me get ready for movie night. First, she says I have to find some decent clothes. Apparently, after having gone through my closet several times, she has decided I haven't got any, so she's going to run and get me some—from where, I don't know.

I can't wait, I'm gonna kiss her tonight. Miley, I mean, not Lilly.

Lilly just dashed back in and the first thing I noticed was that her lipstick was kind of… smeared. I asked her why, pulling out my voice recorder from its ever-so-handy place in my pocket. Here's her response.

"Oh, you know, I decided you could borrow some of Jackson's clothes," she said casually, pulling a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table.

"And it smeared your lipstick how?"

Oh God, I thought right as I said that.

"Well, you know, I had to convince him to let me."

"And you… you kissed him."

Lilly blushed. "Well, yeah, kinda."

"Oh my God," I said, both horrified and astonished. "Oh my GOD! How could you do that? You're, what, three years younger? Two at least?"

"One and a half," she admitted. "But, come on, so what, right? We're going to be sophomores, he's going to be a senior. Besides, he kissed me, not the other way around."

"What about Miley?" I asked her.

"Ooh… that's not good," she said. "She never has to know about this."

"Agreed," I sighed. "That would be bad. And sorry, but I can't wear her brother's clothes—she'd probably recognize them."

"That's the great news," Lilly said excitedly. "See, Mr. Stewart bought them for him a couple of months ago, but they're too small and they were on sale, so the store wouldn't accept returns. He said you can have 'em!"

"Goody," I said in a less-than-enthusiastic way. "Goody, goody, gumdrops."

I left the recorder running as I dashed into the bathroom to change, grabbing a shirt and pants from a bag.

"Ugh," Lilly said when I came out in a pink shirt with brown jeans. "Real men might wear pink, but they don't wear it with brown, especially not with hair as long as yours."

"What, I might get mistaken for a girl?" I asked, appalled.

Lilly cringed. "Well, yeah."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Okay, what next?"

A green-and-white rugby shirt flew at me across the room and landed on my head. "Try that," Lilly suggested, "with those pants."

I went back into the bathroom, changed, and came out. "I look like that guy on Blue's Clues," I said disdainfully, looking down at the tasteless outfit.

"Hmm," Lilly murmured. "Try this shirt." A dark red oxford shirt hit me in the chest from her seat on the couch and I scowled.

Back to the bathroom, changing again, and I came out.

"Whoo, Smokin' Oken returns!" Lilly said and got up to look at me. "Excellent, the outfit is complete."

"What next?" I asked, smiling slightly, finally getting excited.

"Mm," Lilly pondered, "shoes."

"I have a perfect pair." I ran upstairs to get my red pair of Converses and put them on when I got back.

"Great choice," Lilly grinned.

"So now…"

"We have to do your hair," she replied in a slightly frightening tone.

I blinked. "Huh?"

"We have to do your hair," repeated Lilly. "Take me to the nearest vanity."

"Vanity?" I asked, bewildered.

"You know," she replied, exasperated, "a mirror with drawers and a counter underneath it."

"Oh, that'd be in Anne's room," I replied. "Follow me."

Upstairs, I knocked on the doorpost of my aunt's bedroom door, because the door was open, and I left the recorder going in my pocket.

"Come in, Oliver," she said, sticking her head out the bathroom door. "I was just straightening my hair."

We went into the bathroom, and Anne put her straightener down on the counter. "Oh, hi, Lilly," she said with a smile.

"Hi, Mrs. Ackerman," Lilly replied.

"Oh please, call me Anne, I keep telling you," Anne insisted, and Lilly nodded. "So, Oliver honey, what do you need?"

"Uh, Lilly wanted a… what is it again?"

"Vanity," Lilly supplied, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, that. She wants to mess with my hair."

Anne opened the cabinets under the sink. "Help yourself, Lilly," she grinned. "Use anything you need."

"Thanks, uh, Anne," Lilly said. "Okay, Oliver, take off your shirt. I don't want it wet when you wash your hair."

"But… but…"

"I've seen you shirtless, I'm sure Anne has too."

"Right." I did as I was told and bent my head into the sink obediently as Lilly gave me shampoo.

"Neutrogena," she explained as she squeezed it into my hand and I scrubbed at my head. "It smells somewhat manly, or at least, you won't smell like a spring meadow."

I rinsed my hair and then she squeezed some conditioner into my hand. "Put that in, leave it for two minutes, and rinse with cold water."

I counted to one hundred and twenty and then rinsed with cold water. Lilly put a towel over my head as I stood up and I dried it rather effectively, then put my shirt back on and looked in the mirror. "Now what?"

Anne was standing by the doorpost, chuckling, as Lilly said, "Sit. I'm going to blow-dry your hair."

"That's an insult to masculinity everywhere," I said meekly, but I sat down anyway. Anne walked over holding a brush, and Lilly held the blow-dryer up. Anne brushed, Lilly dried. This went on for at least ten minutes.

"Good Lord, Oliver, you've got a lot of hair," Anne marveled.

Afraid to nod, I just waited patiently as they continued to blow-dry my hair. "Excellent," Lilly finally said and they stepped back. "Mousse?"

"Mousse," Anne replied.

Lilly went to the cabinet and pulled out a white can (and I checked to make sure my recorder was still running—it was). She sprayed some white stuff into her hands and it… it grew! Within seconds she had a mound of white fluff in her hands and then she put it in my hair. Twisting it and moving it and making me smell weird, she stepped back and then began to blow-dry it again. Finally, finally, she was done.

I looked at myself in the mirror. "Wow," I marveled.

"Wow indeed," Anne agreed. "Good work, Lilly!"

After Lilly took a couple of minutes to do her makeup and her hair, we went back downstairs and Lilly handed me a box. "I got you something," she said with a smile.

I opened it. It was a clear bottle with a black top, with clear liquid inside. I took the top off and looked at her. "What is it?"

"My cousin has a custom perfumes business," she explained. "I hooked you up with this." Taking the bottle from me, she spritzed it on random spots on my shirt.

I sniffed the air. "I smell awesome," I said. "Thanks so much, Lilly." I stepped forward to hug her.

"Let's not waste this on me," she said, stepping back after a brief hug. "Let's go get you your girl! Oh, you'll need these." She threw a box of cinnamon Tic-Tacs at me.

"I hate cinnamon!" I caught them and moaned.

"Miley doesn't," she reminded me, grabbing the Pirates of the Caribbean DVD off the coffee table.

"I love cinnamon!" I exclaimed, popping two Tic-Tacs in my mouth.

I am going to leave my journal and voice recorder here for safety. I'll write again when I return.

9:17 PM

I am not going to spoil the end of the night at the beginning of this entry, so future readers will just have to read through the whole thing to find out what happened. And again, I remembered all of this as best as I could.

As is tradition, Lilly and I went to Miley's house, where we ordered pizza (one pepperoni for Lilly and Miley, one-half Hawaiian for me and one-half cheese for whoever wanted it). We sat around on the couch while waiting for the pizza to arrive.

"So, Miley, what time do you leave for Japan?" Lilly asked.

"Seven-thirty," she replied. I looked at her and she seemed kind of sad. She looked beautiful, wearing a dark-blue blouse and a white skirt. I felt very… bright compared to her ensemble. "You guys will be there, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I said with a smile.

"Santa Monica Airport," she reminded us.

After several minutes of awkward silence, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Miley said, standing up and taking a $10 from its spot on the coffee table.

I heard the pizza guy say something and Miley paid him, then brought the two pizzas inside to the kitchen table. "Dig in, guys," she said, and took a piece of pepperoni and a piece of cheese.

I took two pieces of Hawaiian and we all ate in still-awkward silence.

Then I took another piece of Hawaiian and we all stayed quiet.

Then Jackson came down the stairs, Lilly said "Hi," his face paled, and he went back up the stairs.

Miley spoke up. "What was that?"

"Oh," Lilly said trying to smile it off, "nothing."

"That's not a nothing nothing, that's a something nothing. What is it?" Miley asked.

"Nothing," Lilly insisted.

"Look, I saw my brother's face pale. He only does that when he… yeah, never seen him do it. What's going on?"

"Oliver?" Lilly asked.

"Lilly?" I replied.

"Would you like to tell her?"

I took a bite of my pizza. "Mmm, no."

"Will somebody please tell me?" Miley begged, exasperated, throwing her hands up in the air like all good drama queens do.

"I kissed her," said a voice from the stairs.

"You what?" Miley screeched at her brother.

"I kissed her," he repeated.

"Why?"

Lilly stood up, offended. "You don't think I'm kissable?"

"I am not insulting your kissability," Miley insisted, and I leaned back to take another bite of my pizza. "Merely your newfound relationship with my brother."

Jackson came down from the stair he was standing on and put his arm around Lilly. "It's not newfound, Miles," he said. "I've liked her for a long time."

"Likewise," Lilly said, beaming.

"Let's go to a movie," Jackson suggested. And he and Lilly got in his car and drove away, leaving me, Miley, and a pizza and a half.

"Well that was interesting," I said, eating the last of my piece. "Soooo, what now?"

Miley shrugged. "I dunno. Do you want to watch the movie?" She gestured to the DVD case lying on the coffee table.

"Not really, I've seen it already," I said truthfully.

"So have I," Miley replied with a smile. "Lilly has really wanted to see it but obviously not enough to stay…"

"Does this bother you?" I asked, leaning across the table to look at her closely.

"What, you being within five inches of my face?" she asked, leaning in a similar way.

I sat back and laughed. "No, the whole Jackson-Lilly thing."

She shrugged and leaned back in her chair with a thump. "Nnh, I don't know. I mean, it's kind of to be expected—she flirted with him almost every time we went to Rico's and every time she came here. I have a confession, though."

"What?" I asked, my eyebrows going up.

"I'm not going to tell you," she said with a smirk, shrugging.

"Is that the confession, or is that you not telling me the confession?"

"I'm not going to tell you," she repeated.

I stood up, frustrated, but in a good way. "Do I have to tickle you for it?"

"No!" she screamed, getting out of her chair and running to the French doors in the back of the house. "No tickling!"

"Too late!" I cried, dashing after her as she opened the doors and hastily slamming them shut in a sure-to-be-futile attempt to prevent breakage-and-enterage. She was running down onto the sand and sticking her thumbs in her ears, waving her fingers at me.

"You've got to catch me first!" she yelled as I followed her down the stairs and took a running start for her. I caught her stomach and began to wiggle my fingers, tickling her like I had so many times.

She doubled over, crossing her arms over her stomach and dangling her head. "Nooo!" she protested, but I got her under the armpits. "I give! I give!"

I was laughing so hard that I collapsed onto the sand, and she stood over me. "Way more fun than rewatching a movie," she said with a smile as she offered me a hand up. I took it and we both stood for a second watching the moon rise, but of course we were the most unromantic pair of friends at the time, so we went back to our antics.

Screaming in glee, Miley took off running into the surf, as she had ditched her flip-flops earlier. "Don't want to ruin your precious Converses, do ya?"

So that's what that was—the night had turned into a giant game of chase. Not that I minded, of course. Taking her comment as a challenge, I leapt into a breakneck run and splashed through the shallowest parts of the Pacific, following the billowing white skirt before me. Great. I'm a skirt-chaser.

"I'm going to get you good," I yelped down the beach at her, adding my last burst of energy to do something I've wanted to do forever. Catching up to her finally, I came in from behind and put a hand under her neck and a hand under her knees, scooping her up.

A weak fear rang in her eyes as she looked at me, but she hid it well and it disappeared within nanoseconds. "What was that for?"

"I'm not going to tell you," I grinned, shifting her weight off my forearms and up closer to my shoulders.

"I'm mooning the rest of the beach," she moaned, in a slightly joking manner. "Put me down!"

I lowered her to her feet. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"About what?" I asked.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"What if I don't want to talk at all?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Why don't you try to guess?" I asked.

"What if I don't want to?" she asked.

"What if I won't tell you?" I asked.

"What if I really want to know?" she asked.

"How about I just show you," I said.

Suddenly, like I had been planning to do for days but never thought it would actually happen, I leaned in and kissed her. Nothing big, I just kissed her softly on the lips for a few seconds and then stood upright again.

Her eyes were wide as I put my hands on her shoulders. "Miley Stewart, every day I look forward to seeing you, talking to you, being your friend. But guess what, Miley? I'm sick of being your friend."

"Oliver, wha—"

"Shh," I said. "Hear me out. Being your friend sucks. Do you know why? You don't. You couldn't possibly. Being your friend means that I get to see you and talk to you, but I don't get to hold you or kiss you or be anything more than a friend. And I hate that. So I am ending our friendship right now. From now on, it's not Oliver Oken and Miley Stewart, greatest of friends. I'm changing everything."

"Are you mad?" she asked quietly.

"I am pissed," I answered. "I am pissed because that is what boyfriends do, and your boyfriend I am not." Taking a breath, I looked her in the eyes. "Miley, please, just do me a giant favor."

"What is that?"

"Kiss me, for crying out loud."

She stepped towards me, put her hands on my face, and looked at me carefully. "I don't understand this."

"It's perplexing," I agreed. "Incomprehensible at best."

"But that's why it's so much fun," she said, pulling my face to hers. We touched nose to nose for a second and then she kissed me. Lightly, the first time. We separated briefly and she looked at me again.

"Unfathomable."

I took the initiative and put my hands on her waist, closing the space between us and kissing her again. There was no trace of friendship in that kiss—it was full of romance and pain and love and heartache and desire and endings and beginnings and I could go through the Oxford English Dictionary and never find a suitable word to describe it.

"So I guess we're dating now, huh?" she asked as we pulled apart, making a puppy face.

"I'll say," I said, taking her hand and walking with her slowly back towards the house.

I thought of something suddenly. "Won't your dad care that we ran out of the house?"

"Nah, Jackson's supposed to be our babysitter…" her words slowed as she came to a realization. "Dad's at a meeting with my record execs and he'll be back in… three minutes!" We set off running, Miley grabbing her shoes at the foot of the stairs, and quickly situated ourselves on the couch.

She grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV as I rubbed the gloss off my mouth. At that second, Mr. Stewart walked in. "Have fun, kids?"

"Yeah," I looked at Miley, my eyes smiling.

"Where're Lilly and Jackson?"

"Lilly threw up in the toilet and we sent her home," I supplied hastily.

"And Jackson went off on a date with some girl," Miley said. I was immediately jealous of her, having just lied to my girlfriend's dad while she told the truth.

"I am going to shoot that boy, bring him back from the dead, and drown him," Mr. Stewart said as he went up the stairs.

"Phew," Miley and I both said in relief.

Nothing else exciting happened, except that when I left to walk home, she kissed my cheek.

And that's that. Tomorrow she leaves.