I'm not happy with this chapter and I doubt I ever will be. It's possible I come back to this chapter way later and update it with something I feel that fits.

So, I'm sorry for the insanely long wait, I just couldn't figure out what to do. Hopefully you guys can forgive meD: Let me know what you think, should I keep it, could it be better, anything to change?

-

It's been a week and a half since I hung out with Miley at the Trails. I've spent it balancing my insanely complicated schedule consisting of watching the Kenney's gorgeous television, sunken into their leather couch that's pretty much the equivalent of laying on a pile of pillows with cases made of silk, hanging out with the Kenney kids and my brother, or laying on a towel in my bikini generally in the same area of grass in the acres of backyard, on my way to earning skin cancer. I'm dying for some in-person contact with someone no less than the age of sixteen, in other words, Miley. Since she's the only person fitting that criteria that's available to me at the moment. Aw, hell, who am I kidding? I genuinely want to be friends with the girl, no, I'm meant to be friends with Miley. That's why we click so well. There have been numerous moments where I've almost thrown my hands up in exasperation and marched right over to her house. But, I mean, that would be a little weird, despite the clicking, y'know?

I'm currently stretched out on the couch, switching between "Bernie Mac", "The Girl Next Door", and a marathon of "America's Next Top Model" reruns. It's practically a delicacy to have this TV all to myself, with all the little kids in this house, I'd expect at least two of them to wish to have their brains numbed by SpongeBob or Ben 10 or something for hours on end. But no, they'd prefer to explore the wilderness. Pshhh.

Daylight streams into the room through the windows, and with a quick check of the info menu, I learn it's 3 in the afternoon. I find my current position more relaxing than pathetic. Summer feels better than ever once you hit high school.

Bernie Mac is making a comment on Wanda as she retreats out of the camera's eye when I hear the sliding door from the back deck smack open.

Multiple girls' voices float in from the living room where Lane's baby grand piano sits, and grow closer and closer.

The voices are beside me, all southern accents, but one sounds different, more matured than the rest. "Hey, Lilly," it says, in a somewhat breathless, yet cheery tone.

My head whips out of its seat in my palm and Miley is looking down at me, her face shadowed from the light streaming through the window somehow, smiling politely.

It strikes me as strange, as I was just thinking about her, wishing to see her. Instantly I feel rejoiced, liberated somehow, finally, I've found something to do for the remainder of this vacation; hang out with Miley. Today I vow to make it so I'll be able to head over to Miley's house whenever I want to, seeing to it that she's hanging out with my cousins and hopefully me for the day.

I notice a blue towel with starfish designs all over it is slung over her shoulder and a navy blue canvas bag with thick rope handles hangs beneath it. She's wearing mesh athletic shorts and a hot pink tank top, in which I see pink and orange tie-dye patterned bikini halter strings protruding from the neckline of. I quickly scan all of my cousins to see them in baggy, dirt and grass stained clothes, and I guess they were outside with the boys. I wonder where Miley was all day. All week.

"Hey Miley, didn't expect to see you here… whatcha up to?" I run a hand through my hair absently, and glance down at my own clothing; navy blue and hot pink flannel pajama pants with hints of silver, and a ridiculously bright lime green spaghetti strap top that clings to my figure. I glance down, horrified, at my chest, only to release a relieved sigh when I find that I do, indeed, have a bra on.

I look back to Miley, whose eyes are still on me, as are my three cousins', and I hope no one really catches on to my previous thought process.

My cousins head upstairs and leave Miley with me, and I wonder exactly why.

I sit up and kick my feet up onto the cube shaped matching leather foot rest sitting in front of me, crossing my arms and facing the TV. Legs cross my view, tan and very slim, and then Miley sits beside me. At the same time, something sits inside of me, an emotion that doesn't really do anything but stay there persistently, as if it was on the verge of doing something, of making me feel. I wonder if it'd stay until it could be activated somehow…and wow I've been watching way too much television for one day, so it seems. All it makes me do is think, think, think.

"Well, we're goin' down to the creek today," Miley begins, and I turn to look at her. Oh, so that's why she's wearing a bathing suit. "And you're invited."

I rejoice inwardly. Outwardly, I remain friendly and nonchalant. "Okay, sounds good. I'll go get my stuff on."

I stand, and realizing I left my phone behind on the couch. I turn and am met with Miley's eyes, which jump off of me fast. I snatch my phone, give a friendly smirk/breath-of-a-laugh type gesture, and practically sprint upstairs.

-

Its funny how not even an hour ago I was set on doing absolutely nothing for the entire day, and now I'm here at this place. Time is such a mystery.

The creek is gorgeous. Large, smooth grey boulders protrude from the emerald waters. The rushing sound comes from a waterfall across the main body of water, cascading down a tall earthy wall. A tree to my right has an elongated branch that a thick rope swing is knotted to, swaying out over the water.

Its hot out and I can't really wait to get in.

We all put our towels under a shady tree branch and I lift my tank top over my head. I immediately hear snickering and turn to see if it's aimed at me. I see a red faced Chris grasping Carly's wrists and shaking her as she giggles uncontrollably. Of course this is about Miley, so my eyes search for her, and I see why.

She's in her bikini and the slim back of her I immediately decide I'm envious of is making its way to the opening in the wheat-grass infested bank of the water.

I hear my phone beep from my bag as I'm dropping my shorts.

'hey cowgirl, imy!3 how ru?' It's from Amber. Happiness in the form of warmth floods me as I stand in the shade, and a smile breaks onto my face.

"Whatcha smilin' at?"

I look up just as I'm about to reply and my breath stills when I find Miley looking at me, her question hanging in the air. Everyone else is wading into the water. I wouldn't be surprised if Miley looked at an eruptive volcano and it froze over. I also wouldn't be surprised if she looked at a man preparing to step off the Golden Gate Bridge and he backtracked as far from his death as possible.

"Uh, just my friend. Haven't heard from her in a while."

"Oh. One of the ones you mentioned in the stables?"

"Yep," I say, finally tearing my gaze on Miley that was beginning to unfocus and redirecting it to my phone's screen.

I finish the text quickly and come back to Miley, realizing offhandedly texting in her presence right now is rude, and toss my phone back into my bag. "Is the water cold?"

We begin walking over, the sandy dirt path fading into brown mud that stretches around the creek and into the distance of it. It's more like a lake than a creek.

"Not too cold, you'll get used to it."

I dip my foot in and find the temperature pleasant. Within seconds I'm wading out and diving under.

My cousins aren't quite in the center of the water. Since we're at the rounding of the creek—it goes far down to my left beyond my peripheral vision—I guess it's kind of shallow. The water just submerges my belly button. My cousins are in up to their chests.

As Miley and I approach, Chris shoves Carly for something she probably said. Taylor, Brooke, and Max are laughing.

I'm just about to open my mouth and ask what Carly said, when Chris says sternly, "Okay, we're gonna play chicken."

Carly makes a comment I try to suppress giggles at, and fail.

Chris dunks her under and it's all flailing limbs when Carly drags him under.

I look over at Miley, grinning and rolling her eyes at the two. The sun shines down on her slick-backed hair, which she pulled from its bun, and illuminates the beads of water trailing down her shoulders and chest. I note for the first time she has about two inches of height on me when I see her belly button, smack dab in the middle of her skinny stomach, above the water…and I look away. An alarm has rung in my head alerting me that I've stared at Miley enough for an acquaintance.

Carly and Chris appear above the water's surface again, and Carly flops over and her hand lands with a slap on Miley's shoulder. "I call Miley!"

Chris looks at me. "I got Lilly."

Chris isn't that heavy. He and Carly battle viciously, and I'm almost shocked at how tough she is.

I glance steadily at Miley from time to time, and even though I can't see all of her, I note her unsteadiness with Carly on her shoulders, which causes me to snicker, and, once again, picture perfect smile. She doesn't see me, and I'm lost in studying the shapes her cheeks take when she smiles and the way her eyes look when they're slightly squinted because of it, and suddenly Chris's weight is dipping behind me, until it's completely toppling me over.

Carly won, I comprehend as I kick the gooey creek floor to resurface from the water.

I shake my head and sputter out water, and push all my hair back from my head. I open my eyes, blink, and look straight at Miley. She's looking at me, and instead of the grin or laugh I expect, I only find her with her jaw slightly slacked and her lips parted.

I look away, almost disappointed.

We go on for plenty more matches, Miley and I holding my cousins and brother on our shoulders and watching them shove, grab, shout, and laugh. My body is aching after a while from being pulled and pushed around. My shoulders throb.

I nearly rejoice when Chris says to me and Miley, "You guys should go!"

Miley and I share a glance in which we both agree we don't see how that could work, since we're the oldest and biggest.

All throughout the day, we've been sharing these looks, sometimes to share a laugh, or a look of shock, or to share nothing. Sometimes I'll look at Miley just to see what she's feeling. She definitely wears her heart right on her sleeve.

I can't get over it; I've never had this type of connection with someone, especially in such a short time of knowing them. I guess it's just because Miley's so easy to get along with. I've gotten comfortable with her fast, and what I'm watching now is this unspoken bond form between us, even before an actual friendship.

"I could hold one of you, and so could Taylor, or Max."

I end up on my little brother's shoulders, while Miley sat on Chris's. He so planned for this to happen.

I clutch on to Max's hair as if they were reigns, like on a horse. He tries to rip my hands away. I'm surprised he can maintain his balance. Actually, I'm surprised he can hold me. I guess being in the water makes it easier.

"Lilly, stop!"

I laugh and tug harder. Max threw me off his shoulders, but I held on and brought him with me.

I laugh even under water.

When I am above it, everyone's laughing. I look at Miley, her voice is missing. She just stares at me, completely blank, as if taunting Max like that was bad in her eyes.

I clear my throat and a wave of shame comes over me.

When Max appears beside me, his darkened dandelion blonde hair plastered to his forehead, he glares at me.

"Sorry," I say.

His look switches to incredulous. "S'okay…" He pretty much stares at me in awe.

I get back onto his shoulders and am eye level to Miley. Her face is tilted away from me, while her eyes are narrowed playfully at me, secretly questioning why I gave Max that heartfelt little apology. This confuses me. I thought she would respect that?

I shake it off as Brooke begins counting down.

I look at Miley and she faces me with a challenging smile and narrowed, focused brow. I can't help the humored smile that jumps onto my face.

The game has started, and Miley and I are both hesitating to make our first move. Both our arms are raised. She jerks a hand towards me, I slap it away. Her toothless grin and raised eyebrow shows she's entertained.

She throws an open palm at me and it attaches to my wrist. I grab for her other hand, and land around her knuckles.

Miley tries to whip my hand off, while I break my left arm free from her grasp between her thumb and index finger. In the meantime, we have pulled in towards each other.

I quickly send a light shove to her stomach. If I weren't so competitive, I'd probably feel weird about trying to fight someone I'm trying to become friends with.

Miley doesn't seem too athletic, but she's pretty strong, probably from all the yard work that comes with living on a farm. I see the muscle in her upper arm dent inwards as she grips onto my shoulder and tries to push. I rip her hand off my shoulder and grab her palm.

Her fingers lace with mine and for a moment I'm struck by how small and delicate her hands are, despite the force coming out of them.

Her other hand works it's fingers in between mine and we push against each other. Chicken is such a weird game. Holding hands with someone doesn't exactly motivate me to push them around angrily into a body of water.

The entire time I still have the same playful, yet competitive grin on my face. So does she. I force her arm back into her, and lean forward so Max walks towards her. I'm pushing against her strength with all my might.

I believe I'm going to win, when suddenly, she yanks me into her. I see her lean back, and then Chris move with her. My arms shoot out as I'm falling and lock around her waist, and I'm laughing as I tackle her into the water.

The water swallows me once again, and I still don't let go out Miley as I sink.

I feel her hands land on my arms, and she knees me lightly in the stomach, and I let go of her, but she doesn't.

She keeps her hold around my elbows even as we stand above the water.

I let out a laugh, but she doesn't make a sound.

I look at her, a small, relaxed smile on her face, and I honestly don't know what it means.

My laughter dies out, and with my eyes, I ask her what she means. Her face doesn't change for a heartbeat, the smile is still there, and then her grip is gone and she's clearing her throat at the water.

What was that?

Everyone else is wading towards the bank or already wrapped in their towels. I guess they all wanted to take a break.

I hop away from Miley and plan to float on my back and relax. She's passing me, heading back towards the bank, when I grab her arm.

"Stay, I don't feel like getting out yet," I request.

"Alright." Her expression is blank and aimed at the waterfall above my head.

I float on my back, and for a while I'm doing that, when she says something, but it's drowned out because my ears are under water.

I tilt myself back and hold my breath to whirl backwards, and then resurface quickly.

I push my hair of my face and say "Whad'jya say?"

Miley is staring at me with wide eyes. "Uhh—uhm… I said, so, since you surf, can you swim real well?"

"I don't like to brag, but uh, I've been compared to many marine animals due to my… swimming abilities, if that answers your question," I reply with mock smugness.

She giggles her alluring little giggle and says, "In that case, Mr. Michael Phillips, I challenge you t' a race," in her thick accent. I scold myself for being surprised Miley actually knows of current events, such as the National Olympics. I keep trying to remind myself she's not a hick, but her accent is making it kind of difficult.

"Oookay, but don't say I didn't warn you. From that end of the water to the other, up and back."

We swim, then wade, then stand at the bank.

"Can someone count down for us?" I ask.

"Oh jeez, y'all are racin'?" Carly says. "Lilly, you better watch out, Miley may not be able to do anything with a football or baseball bat, but she's one of the best swimmers this creek has ever seen."

"Yeah, well, it's about to see the best."

Carly counts down, and I wade forth as fast as I can, then dive in. Miley's splashing forcefully beside me as I whip my head under and to the side mechanically.

I push through, until my fingers connect with a wet, sandy wall. The opposite side from the bank doesn't get shallower.

I flip around expertly, a move I perfected years ago in Oliver's pool, and begin the swim back.

My stomach scrapes across rocky sand, and I quickly push myself up and run to the bank.

But, I connect, full-body, with somebody.

I whip my hair back to find Miley steadying me, chuckling.

"You… you…"

"Won? Yes, I noticed. Best swimmer this creek has seen, my Uncle Earl's big, red behind."

I snicker. "Fluke. Better awareness of surroundings."

"Definitely not a fluke. Better skill in the water. Do I need'a kick your butt again?"

"I thin—"

"No," Brooke chimes in, "I'm hungry, I wanna go."

I eye Miley with mock suspicion, but this stupid smirk is ruining the façade. "This isn't over."

She giggles. "It sure ain't."

I hold a lightheartedly feuding stare with Miley until I reach my things. I put my shirt back on, but wrap my towel around myself instead of putting on my shorts.

Half the kids have begun down the trail when Miley grabs my arm.

I look at her, and she looks at me, completely blank.

"Wanna go into town?" She asks suddenly, after practically skinning my face with her intense eyes. "O—or we don't have to, jus' sayin', if your bored of the Kenney house, not sayin' you would be, your Aunt and Uncle have a real nice house…"

She's rambling. My brow dips momentarily. I find it funny she's trying not to offend me. I've never really met a person so polite like that.

"Sure," I cut her off in the middle of her sentence, I'd begun to space out while she rambled, "I just have to take a shower, and then I'll come by your house?"

Miley's lips are in a firm, toothless smile threatening to break into a huge pearly white grin. "Yeah, sounds good."

At this rate, Miley and I will be inseparable by the end of this summer.

-

I play with one of the bracelets stacked up my wrist as the sound of Miley's doorbell blares in my ears.

I feel like… like this is some earth-shattering moment. Well, okay, not really. It's just that it's the beginning of something; something I feel is, well, big, and—finally—interesting.

The door clicks, and I realize I'm nervous as hell because I barely know Miley, let alone any of her family members.

A tall man with dirty blonde hair down to his jaw, wearing a faded t-shirt and paint stained carpenter jeans appears in the doorway.

"Hi…" I begin timidly, as the scent of Miley's house creeps out. Hmm… laundry detergent and… grilled cheese? "I'm Lilly. I'm here for Miley?" Adults don't usually intimidate me. But this man is an exception; I feel kind of weird coming here, since it's the first time and all.

Before the man, who I'm guessing is Miley's father, and I'm also guessing enjoys coloring his hair, has a chance to open his mouth, Miley bounds into view into the middle of the hallway behind the door. I suppose that's where her staircase leads to.

I take in the sight of Miley. Jeez, her hair is so long. It's past her boobs, almost reaching the lowest curve of her back. It's curled at the ends, and the way its cut and thinned out at the ends makes it look like high fashion. Her tan skin makes her grey blue eyes so bright and clear, her pouty lips shimmer naturally.

It's funny, how as a little kid I never really cared what someone's face looks like. And now here I am, scrutinizing every inch of this girl, like she's the notes I need to study for a test that makes or breaks my success in my most important class.

That's exactly what I do. I read her. Miley is an open book and all I've really been wanting to do lately is read the entire thing in one sitting. Instead, I get it in little parts, a few pages every now and then.

She brushes past her father and turns to him when she's beside me. I nearly expect them to begin speaking some country-land language, but then mentally slap myself, once again. Miley's not a hick. She's practically every other girl in California, multiplied by five, and with a Southern accent that's kind of growing on me, with being around her and my cousins and Uncle Dean so much lately. I almost wish I had one. Almost.

"Daddy, this is Lilly. She's here for the summer, she's Mrs. Tiff's niece. We're gonna go hang out around town."

Miley's dad scans me up and down for a moment, and in that moment, I've never been more nervous around a parent in my life. I stare back, no expression on my face, although I consider smiling.

"Alright. Nice meeting you Lilly, you can call me Robby, or Mr. Stewart, whatever ya like." He thrusts out a firm open palm. This is a test, I swear it is, and I need to pass.

"Nice meeting you too, Mr. Stewart." I take his hand, squeeze firmly, shake down once, and release. "See you around." Cue sweet smile. Cue genuine responsive smile. Cue… Miley snicker?

Mr. Stewart nods his head at me and closes the front door, leaving Miley and I on the porch. We step down it and down the dirt driveway, which branches into the matching dirt road.

Miley's snickering continues as I give her beady eyes while we walk. "Nice meeting you too, Mr. Stewart, maybe next time I won't act like a bunny rabbit at gunpoint."

"Alright, can it, Stewart. I thought you knew all about manners, you seem to have more of them than my entire school's put together. Upon introduction, that is."

"Do I really? And darn, don't last-name me."

"Yeah, actually. And uh, I'll last-name whoever I want." I let out a laugh. "Stewart… Miley… Stewart." I play with it on my tongue. "What's your middle name?"

"It's…ehn-ohwhybee."

I narrow my eyes at the horizon of the road and sky ahead of us. "Is… is that Southern?"

Miley barks a laugh. "N-O-Y-B? None of your business…? You actually fell for that?"

I make a defeated little sigh. "Yes, I actually fell for that." Jeez, this girl just oozes the smartass….ness out of me.

Miley laughs. And laughs. I listen to the sound. It's not preppy, but it's feminine. It's rough, and raw, and raspy, and free. I don't envy, because nothing about me is raw and free; I simply learn. All about Miley Stewart.

We continue down the dirt road. I'm surrounded with nothing but sunny grasslands and the same white wooden fence for, like, a mile, and a muscular horse in the distance every now and then.

Miley doesn't let one awkward moment appear. I assume she has a lot of friends, with how easily she's befriended me. We talk about a lot of things, mostly nonsense and small talk. I want to ask her if she feels as easily accustomed to me as I do to her. But I don't. Maybe later. She's a godsend, I realize. My slowly blurring sanity due to this increasingly dull vacation has been sharpened and rendered by her.

We reach the end of a dirt road and find—gasp!—another dirt road. It runs left and ride, no road continuing straight to make a three way intersection.

"There are so many open fields around here," I say as Miley leads me left. There is shade down the upcoming road, due to a row of shaky, yellow-green willow trees. "It's weird."

"I know. But I think it's kinda peaceful."

I look around. "It's… big." I laugh. "I'm just not used to so much grass." Our conversations aren't the most riveting, but they're informative. They let me get to know her, directly from the source.

She laughs. "It'll grow on you—Sweet Jesus!" Miley hops behind me and clenches my bare shoulders.

Something shoots through me, shocks me, it comes from my pelvis, shoots up to my collarbone and settles right below my stomach with a single throb.

What the fuck was that?! I jump beneath Miley's touch, not that she notices, and everything kind of warps and wobbles. My mind is going ballistic, trying to figure out what in god's name I just experienced, but I quickly calm down and pause. I focus on what Miley has her index finger extended towards, the tree she's back peddling me away from.

I spot a huge, wrinkly vulture sitting on a branch of the tree across the street from Miley and I.

"Holy crap, that thing's huge!" I say, my voice a little weak.

Miley releases my shoulders, and my stomach seems clench absently, all on its own. She sprints ahead of me, the feeling in my stomach lingers and rings throughout my abdomen.

What the hell just happened?

-

I lick at my ice cream cone and go over the list of things I've learned about Miley today in my head. She can swim well. She knows just about everyone in town, but literally everyone knows her. She's kind of clumsy—she's tripped over and into just about everything as we passed the market in town. She adores fashion, she doesn't really wear the over-rated labels, either, she puts together cute things she tells me she finds in the thrift stores and other clothing shops we pass when she takes me further into town.

So she's outgoing, fashionable, clumsy, a good swimmer… sarcastic. Miley's pretty sarcastic. Throughout the day she's cracked plenty of jokes on me, of course I didn't mind, though. I shot them right back at her, especially when she'd trip. She does have a very appealing sense of humor, though. So on top of being built like a model, having the face of a goddess, skin like butter, and having a freakishly good swimming abilities despite having no other athletic talent, she's funny too. I'm absently peeling the rainbow jimmies off my ice cream with my tongue as I conclude Miley is just about perfect.

The sun is setting deep golden on top of the street and the row of tavern-like stores across the street—yes, we're actually traveling by paved roads instead of dirt at this point—and I turn to look at Miley.

She's already looking at me while she eats her chocolate ice cream. She told me she's been craving it for the past few weeks.

I almost turn to look away; she hasn't caught me 'studying' her yet today, I don't plan to let it happen now.

But she just looks at me calmly, I watch her lick, I watch her breathe. The sky is composed of a yellow and orange gradient, with hot pink clouds and a blood red sun. Miley is outlined with gold; it shines from behind her like a full-body halo. Miley is something else.

Her eyes are still on me. I move my ice cream from my mouth. This staring contest thing is getting a tad bit weird. But that's just Miley; another thing she is, besides perfect, is weird. Silly, best friend weird, not recluse geeky living-with-your-parents-'till-your-forty or enjoying watching things die weir—

Miley lifts her hand and it gets closer and closer to my face until I feel two fingers push into the area above my top lip to steady her hand, and then her thumb swipes across the lining of it.

This erupts a tingling sensation, since, y'know, I got some nerve endings in those lips, and I blink hard a few times because it's weird, not just silly, best friend, Miley weird, either, I decide.

It's weird, that Miley and I have these moments, and that Miley is also the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen and she comprehends me so well. It's weird that I've only known the girl not even for two weeks and I already feel so close to her. It's weird that I've only been in her presence three times and I'm this fond of her.

"You had some…" she holds up her thumb and I see white.

I grin, break the eye contact.

"I hate you, Lilly." She says solemnly.

She slides into my view, her eyes back to her ice cream. "What? Why?" I don't understand, I thought she was having fun today—

"You're so pretty."

The compliment makes me warm all over, and slightly fidgety. All I can think of is how unjustified that is for her to say.

"Why would you of all people hate someone else for looks?"

She lowers a quizzical brow and looks up at me.

"You're three hundred times better looking than I'm ever gonna be." It feels weird to get it out there, but its fact, so I don't feel so awkward, I suppose. It's fun to watch her squirm, too, like I had been doing.

She looks at me like I've just grown another head, "You're blind, and wrong. Come on, let's go."

"Thanks?" I say, but I'm still burning. I'm not too good at receiving compliments, never have been. They go to my head after they sink in and I never forget them.

I especially could never forget one from Miley Stewart.

"So, busy tomorrow?" Miley says as we spin around and I see all the stores we've passed from the opposite angle.

I feel relieved, and pretty happy. This is what I've been waiting for all day.

"Nope. Why?" I focus my eyes on my ice cream, but my ears focus acutely on Miley's next words.

"I don't know, wanna come over my house?"

I'm cheering on the inside, seriously. Mission successful. "Hm, maybe I could find the time to stop by," I say in a faux snobby sense.

"Alright, then," Miley says quietly and goes back to eating her ice cream.

"I'm kidding, I'd absolutely love to come over."

The smile she shoots me could persuade the sun to hop right back up into the sky to try and rival its shine.

-

Interesting, no? Well, if you say no, I don't blame you. The next chapter will definitely contain some Liley. I'm just trying not to rush it, ya know? It will also be up pretty soon, now that this is finally done, and because I was going to make it part of this chapter, but it would make it way too long and this was the best place to break off at... Sorry, again, for the further wait, hahaa. Peacee!