A/N: Chapter six. This is a chapter you'll either love or hate. Gear up, it's going to be a hormonal ride.
Disclaimer: I'm asked this a lot, so I'd just like to clear one thing up. I do not, as a matter of fact, own Hannah Montana. Surprised?
Chapter 6: October Nights
Long after she heard snores coming from Maya's sleeping bag, Lily Truscott was having a mental battle with herself, unsure of whether to meet Oliver out on the bridge or fake sleep for the rest of the night. 'Calm down, Lily. It's not like anything's going to happen. You two are just friends. He realizes that. Why can't you?' She squirmed a bit in her own bag, pulling farther out the top. 'He just wants to talk.'
The zipper was down, she was up, and flip-flops were on her feet in an instant. She shivered in only her T-shirt and pajama pants, looking back to grab her sweater, and realizing Maya had happily scooted herself atop it in her sleep. She decided it was best to spare waking up her friend, and left it.
'Damn wind,' Lily thought as she stepped precariously through the open pavilion, over a number of the fifty-four seniors girls sleeping around her. She prayed she wouldn't step on one before reaching the end of them.
"Miss Truscott," she heard called from before her. She turned a bit and saw it was Mrs. Yates, nearly asleep herself, guarding her exit, "Where are you going?" She yawned through her words, not even opening her eyes.
"Bathroom, Mrs. Yates," she said simply, looking at her pleadingly for sympathy.
The English teacher nodded, and Lily galloped to the little covered house attached to the pavilion where she swung open the heavy brown door labeled "Ladies". It was apparent that the heat in the bathroom was turned almost unbearably high, probably to offer relief from the chilly weather outside, as soon as she'd entered. Lily pulled a tube of mascara from her pocket, ashamed she'd even thought to bring it, and took a moment in the mirror to coat her lashes evenly. Not wanting Oliver to know she'd done it (and wishing herself she weren't so vain), she placed it against the back of the sink to be retrieved on her way back.
Looking again to the mirror, she flipped her head upside down and shook, turned herself upright again, and ran her fingers quickly through her hair. Her heart was pounding. She was sneaking out, and the consequences weren't only her mother's this time.
She breathed deeply, watching her reflection once, twice, a third time. Then she moved quickly to the little window at the end of the stalls. It was high up and narrow, filled with etched glass so no one could see in, and after a bit of fumbling, it was also opened and filled with a skinny girl pulling her way through.
When she'd gotten herself halfway through, she stopped to catch her breath, feeling the thin sill cutting into her stomach just above her hipbones. She peered out, wondering briefly how she'd get down once she got out. Barely able, she rolled herself to face upward while still inside the window, grabbing at the edge of the roof for support, and pulling her feet the rest of the way out until she could just stand on the outside of the sill. Then, with the fleeting thought of how she might get back up, she jumped.
And after the jump, she ran. Straight into the woods by the wide woodchipped trail dug out for park-goers' convenience. Under the bright stars and moon she found her way in, and was thankful that it was late enough in the year for at least a few leaves to have fallen, leaving little cracks for light to dance in under the cover of the trees once she was there.
The path wasn't very long, and after she'd passed one ropes course and it had caught up to follow the stream it eventually crossed, she saw a tiny light. She stepped closer cautiously, but knew what the yellow glow was as it brightened the outline of a shadowed figure.
When she saw him, she relaxed instantly, remembering again that she was just coming out to talk to her best friend. She was acutely aware of the crunching leaves beneath her feet and the wind that whispered through the branches, rustling them mysteriously. She stepped closer, and Oliver's shape became more clear. The familiarity was comforting.
"Hey there," he called quietly when she was still a few strides away. "I knew you'd come."
Reaching him, she smiled, sliding herself down against the wooden railing of the wide bridge. "Of course I came. I miss hanging out with you," she whispered to him, snuggling close to warm her chilled skin.
"You're freezing, Lily. Where the hell is your sweater?" he asked her accusingly, letting the volume of his voice rise just a bit.
"Shhh," she quieted him, leaning in close to say "Maya rolled on top of it, and I didn't want to wake anyone up."
He nodded approvingly, then pulled his hands from the front pocket of his sweatshirt. As he did, Lily realized that he was still dressed in his dark jeans. "Didn't you go to bed?" she asked curiously.
"Sort of," he said plainly, disregarding her question and held his hands out to her. "I brought us Swedish Fish." He grinned brightly, holding them under the glow of the pocket-sized flashlight he'd laid in the crack between two of the wooden boards.
"Aw, Oliver," she cooed, "Swedish Fish are my favorite, thanks!" She gladly took the rectangular bag and ripped off the corner, sliding the discarded plastic into her pajama pants pocket. She held the bag at an angle and let a few fall into her anxious hands. "Are you trying to bribe me?" She questioned him suspiciously.
"No, Lils," he laughed, but she wasn't convinced.
"Then why'd you ask me to come out her tonight?" She chewed graciously between words, glad Oliver had thought to find a package of Swedish Fish with only the red gummies. They were the only good ones, anyway.
"I just wanted to talk, Lily," he reassured her, pulling his legs up near his chest.
"Okay," she bought it, and continued snacking lightly, using her tongue skillfully to remove the sticky residue from her back molars. A thought came to mind that she couldn't resist mentioning. "Remember the bridge in back of your old house, Oliver? You know, the house in Chesterfield?"
He tilted his head back, wrinkling his brow a bit, "Yeah, actually," he looked back at her. "The one we used to go out to on Sunday afternoons after my family got back from Church."
"Mmhm," she nodded to him.
"You know I almost got my mom in an accident one day, pressuring her to get home before you left. It had been donut and coffee Sunday, so we stayed later, but I was afraid you'd think I'd forgotten and would go home."
Lily grinned silently, recalling. "I can't believe you thought I'd leave. I was so set on catching those tadpoles in the creek that I would have stayed there for hours even if you never showed up. I loved doing that. Then you moved. Closer to me, granted, but away from the creek."
He laughed, "Yeah, and you never forgave me, because you never got to go back and catch the one named Greg that was 'almost nearly a toad already' before we moved." He glanced over at her, all of his teeth exposed in the memory. "Lily, for Pete's sake, you're shivering."
"I'm fine, Oliver," she rolled her eyes, hurt that he'd killed the nostalgic mood.
"No really, Lily. Come here," he commanded, holding out his arms and shifting a bit to accommodate.
"Not a chance. I can take care of myself," she shot back proudly.
He raised one eyebrow and glared. For fear of her life, Lily submitted. Oliver wasted no time pulled her tight against him. He was still seated, leaned up against the railing with his knees up in the air, but he had his legs spread apart, and she sat with her back to him between them. Self-consciously she moved her head to the side a bit so she wouldn't give him a mouthful of her hair, and she too pulled her knees to her chest. She let him grasp her hands and wrap both of their arms around her, cocooning her in an admittedly much warmer embrace.
'Great,' she thought to herself, settling back into him, 'Just what I need. An excuse to be unbearably close to Oliver and the muscles that he just decided o grow overnight – again.' She sighed, wishing simultaneously to be both out of his grasp and closer to him.
"I can't believe how blonde your hair still is," he laughed at her, rubbing his nose on the back of her scalp and fingering the long straight strands, then letting his head fall back to where it had been.
"Don't make fun of my hair," she laughed. "Maybe I'm part albino or afflicted with some mutant disease."
"No," his breath was hot on her neck. "I think you're just lucky."
She grinned to herself, not wanting him to know how happy it made her to be wrapped up there with him. "Wanna know what's weird?" she asked playfully.
"What?" he whispered into her ear, taking one hand and running very slowly up her arm, making her shiver. "Still cold?" he asked before she could respond.
"Uh.." she stammered as the hand moved back down, "I…" Both palms trailed upward this time, leaving a trail of fire on her arm. They pushed under the sleeves of her T-shirt, resting their fingertips lightly on the skin of her shoulder blades. "I…Oliver…" she breathed.
"What?" Was that a seductive tone from his voice? Lily tried to ignore it.
"Oliver, what are you doing?" she finally managed to spit out, spinning to face him, but stopped by his arms.
"Don't turn around," he almost yelled, tensing.
"What?" She giggled, no longer as distracted, but curious instead.
"Don't." His voice was low and ragged.
"Why not, Oliver?" she grinned mischievously, turning just a little farther.
"Lily, my will power is not that fantastic." He bent his face unbearable close to the side of hers, pushing away her hair and speaking clearly into one ear. "If you turn around now, I think I'm going to lose it."
Some kind of realization hit Lily hard in the chest, or the stomach, or – she couldn't even tell anymore, but she understood. And, for some reason she still couldn't explain, she turned to face him, grinning a sultry smile right at him, tilting her head down and looking up at him through the tops of her eyes, pouting her lip just slightly as best she knew how.
She couldn't read the expression on his face; it wasn't one she'd seen before, but it certainly wasn't surprised. He met her upward gaze. "Lily Truscott, I think I'm going to kiss you." He leaned his head in a little closer, letting her study the intensity and want in his chocolate eyes.
She thought she'd be paralyzed with the way he looked at her, like he wanted nothing more than to steal her, but she nodded just slightly, biting her lower lip before that too from her was stolen.
He moved his lips flawlessly, a skill Lily didn't care to know where he'd learned, sucking lightly at all the right moments, and she let him do it. She wanted him to. Lily found her knees still positioned against her chest, now sandwiched awkwardly between his as well, so she adjusted, pulling each over the legs that encased her, wrapping them Indian-style around his back. His hands found there way onto her back, supporting her steadily and he kissed down her neck, making her throw back her head and lean into those hands with passion. His kisses were feather-light, gentle against each collarbone; it made Lily wish he'd go lower, harder. She'd never felt so dirty in her life, but she couldn't pull herself away.
But instead of intensifying, he did something much different, much sexier. He turned their bodies together so he was no longer leaning against the railing, and instead leaned backwards until he was lying down completely on the bridge's floor. He lowered her slowly, almost as if she were flying, until she was completely straddling him, on top, she realized.
He took one hand and held back her hair as she continued the heated kissing, wishing he'd worn less clothing so she wouldn't have to do so much work to reach his bare chest. But she lost her train of that thought when he pulled a nasty trick with his tongue, leaving her moaning his name. A new idea came to mind, and she found her hand reaching boldly for his belt buckle, which, as it happened, was not as hard to undo as she imagined.
"Lily," Oliver grunted, and she took it encouragingly, pulling the leather strap from the metal loop.
"Lily," his broken voice pleaded, pushing her lightly upwards. She broke away and looked at him, confused.
"Stop." There was no mishearing it. She couldn't believe he'd say that.
"I thought—" she started, but he held a finger to her lips, silencing her and pulling them both up to their previous sitting position.
"You don't want it," he told her. That struck her, leaning back a little farther and feeling again the cold air that marked October nights.
"Yes I do, Oliver." She protested, reaching again for the hemline of his jeans, but he pushed her away.
"You don't want it to happen like this." He looked her straight in the eye, but what she saw wasn't the lust of before. It was commanding, almost fatherly, and it made her sick.
"Don't you," she paused, ashamed of what she was going to say, so she whispered, "Don't you want me?"
He let out a long deep breath. "Lily, I've wanted you more than anything for years. God, there isn't a moment I'm not thinking about how much I'd like to—" but he stopped, much to her chagrin. "Yes, Lily, I want you more than you could ever know, but this is not the time or the place. Nothing's right, and you don't want to remember that kind of thing like this."
"I – I –" she stammered, her eyes getting wet in the corners as she tried to accept the rejection she'd just received, but realizing that he was completely right. How did she wind up being the guy in this situation? He asks her to wait for the special moment, and she tells him to drop his pants? Something wasn't right.
"Besides," he said, very slowly, pulling farther away from her and reaching for his flashlight, as if he didn't want to be facing her when he reminded her, "I don't think Will would be very happy about that."
Oh God. Oh God. She couldn't think straight, couldn't believe it. How did she – How could she – She forgot about her own stupid boyfriend just because Oliver seduced her into it. "Oliver, I—" but she didn't continue. She just sobbed.
Her hands were on her face was in her knees were pressed to her chest. She couldn't control her violent tears and sharp breathing. Oliver had his arms around her in moments, but she pushed him off. She wished he'd leave. "I cheated, Oliver," she managed to shout and whisper simultaneously.
"Lily," he started, knowing it was true but not wanting her to have to admit to anything like that, "Lily, it's my fault."
"Oh it is not," she sobbed, and he shushed her. "I was undoing your belt, for Pete's sake. I was very aware of what I was doing."
They sat there for an immeasurable amount of time, just staring, Oliver giving Lily a pleading look, and Lily trying in vain to wipe the hot tears from her cheeks. After several minutes of this, Oliver whispered, "I'm won't tell a soul."
Lily's heart warmed, if just slightly, at this, but she frowned nonetheless. "It doesn't make a difference. I still did it," she started to compose herself, "But thanks."
He nodded, offering her his hand, which she took gladly and stood as it pulled her up. He wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and began walking back towards the pavilion.
When they reached the edge of the woods, he turned off his pocket light and held her a little closer, walking lightly so as not to wake anyone, and returned her to the back side of the girls' bathroom.
"Lily," he leaned her against the stone wall, finding her eyes for the umpteenth time that night, "I'm going to tell you to forget it happened, because I don't want you to ever have to worry about this again. I'm going to tell you to go back to Will and be happy and we will just be friends. But I want you to know, because I think you have the right to, that I am completely, unfathomably, unreasonable, irreversibly in love with you."
She just stared back at him and nodded, not knowing what she should say, so she just didn't. Finally he let go of her, turning and walking back to wherever he'd come form earlier that night.
Lily helped herself through the window, out the bathroom door, behind which her mascara still lay, and silently back to her sleeping bag. She couldn't sleep though. Instead, she spent the remainder of the night either trying to leave behind what had happened between them on the bridge, or letting it flood her thoughts mercilessly, and trying desperately to forget Will.
Xxx…xxX
In the morning, breakfast was cold and clouds plagued the sky. It was still chilly, and Lily shivered while letting Maya lead her onto the bus. Not once did Oliver come to mind, and the entire ride home neither of them spoke a word.
A/N: Well, that certainly was eventful. Coming up in Chapter Seven: Lily's lost for answers, and has a big decision to make. What does she do? Avoid it, of course. Hope you enjoyed it, and please review!
