It doesn't surprise me that I'm attracted to Miley.

I feel the leather seat of the kitchen booth underneath me but I'm so struck by heavy thoughts, I couldn't tell you where I was if you asked.

All of those times my eyes have scrambled automatically to the girls on the beach instead of their chiseled boyfriends, my offhanded fetishes with random, gorgeous female celebrities, the displaced feeling that rises in me whenever Amber or Ashley swoon over their current (male) love interest, the one I'd get because I really couldn't relate to what they were feeling…its been in front of me all along. I've never looked at any guy and gone 'weak in the knees'. Hell, to be completely honest, I can't recall one time I've gotten horny because of a guy.

I'm a lesbian.

I try to let the statement mentally wash over me.

No. No… that's not it. Because I can recall my palms getting sweaty and butterflies erupting in my stomach around the scarce guys I have had romantic relationships with. And maybe I haven't had any sexual feelings towards a guy because Miley is the first person I've actually developed an attraction to in a while. I'm talking about practically a year.

So, I don't think I'm fully a lesbian.

Am I bisexual?

Guys are cute. Miley's cute. She's a girl. Alright, let's be honest here, Miley's not the only girl I've ever been attracted to. Let's try that again. Guys are cute. Girls—including Miley—are cute.

I'm not surprised, but still, I can't believe it. I'm so accustomed to homo and bisexuals, I barely even think about them. I live in California for god's sake, it's not like I've never been exposed to people who like their own gender. It's not a problem. I'm not going to go scrub myself with holy water after lunch.

They don't strike me as odd or anything because they're just people, just neighbors and trash men and models and teachers like everyone else… But I never questioned that I was one of them. Maybe if I did I would have discovered this much earlier.

My phone springs to life, vibrating noisily on the seat beside me, the vibrations traveling to my leg. I snatch it and open it without looking at the caller. "Hello?"

"Hi, Lilly" Miley says.

My heart swells but then drops. Butterflies begin rising in my stomach but they transform into nervous churning.

A day has passed since Miley and I last hung out. She gave me her number when we walked back home from Wendy's. Yesterday I went out shopping with my mom, Aunt Tiff, and all my girl cousins. The entire time I was completely out of it, trying to get comfortable with the reality of my attraction to Miley.

"He-ey," I say, and the word is broken hoarsely, at which I cringe and clear my throat, "hey, Miley, what's up?"

I'm excruciatingly nervous. I feel like I'm high as I wait for her to speak. It wasn't like this before…

"Nothing really, just finished my chores; I was wonderin' if you wanted to go cool off at the creek?"

"Sure," I blurt out, before really thinking about it.

"Alright, should I stop by your house and we can walk from there?"

I realize I just obligated myself to spend at least the next two hours with my newfound girl crush, practically naked. "S-sure."

"Okay, see ya in a few"

"Bye."

As nervous as I am, I find I'm equally as excited.

-

I open the door to reveal Miley, standing there in a pair of frayed denim shorts, a navy blue Titans t-shirt, and yellow flip flops.

I look her over once, then again. I'm struck by how cute she looks. I'm struck by how cute her simple outfit is. I look at her face, then at her feet, then at her arms. It's like I'm drinking her in.

"Hello to you, too," she says, and I can hear her smile, but I look up to see pearly whites outlined with glossy pomegranate anyway.

"Hi," I reply meekly. I step out of the house and shut the door.

"Y' alright?" Miley asks as we stroll down the porch. She's angled forward as if to get a floor's look at my face.

I never paid this much attention to her movements before.

"Mhmm, absitively posolutely. How couldn't I be alright on such a gorgeous day in such a gorgeous place? I'm on vacation, what's there to not be alright about? In fact—"

"Okay, I get it, a simple 'yes' woulda done the trick."

She chuckles, but I don't, because I'm overcome by a flash of embarrassment at my rant.

I'm not alright, Miley. I kindofsortof like you a little more than you think.

I wonder how Miley feels about homosexuality. I decide I need to know. Should I ask? Or would that be too obvious?

Not right now. Not while she thinks something's wrong, which there is, and which I've made obvious by my rant. I make a mental note to bring it up later.

We walk in silence until we hit the spot in the woods where we have to enter.

"Is surfing hard?" Miley asks suddenly.

Her outspoken-ness is so attractive.

And the way I keep noting in my head all of her endearing attributes is beginning to annoy me. I wonder when these feelings will go away.

"It's not like other sports, because the ocean has a mind of its own. It takes a lot of endurance, believe it or not, because you have to, like, paddle a lot, and even just pushing yourself up, which gets tiring if you're not used to it. Then there's the balance aspect. It's hard at first, but you get used to it."

Miley nods. I'm almost grateful she asked a question I've answered numerous times by newbie locals and such back home—I'm afraid I'll start stuttering or say something retarded.

"Are you good?"

I take the gratefulness thing back. "I—uh…" I pause and try to call for words to come to me, to avoid word vomit. "Well, you'd just have to see for yourself." There we go.

"Oh, come on, there's no need t' be modest, you're probably the best outta your friends, aren'tcha?"

I giggle. It sounds awkward to me. It's that whole discomfort-from-compliments issue I have. "What makes you think that?"

I haven't looked at Miley since we left the porch. I don't intend to.

"I dunno. You just seem really athletic." I swear she almost sounds sheepish.

"Well, I'm experienced with it. I mean, I don't have any god-given talents at anything."

"You taught yourself?"

"No, my uncle. My dad's brother. He's a complete surf bum. He taught me when I was seven, to my mom's dismay."

Miley chuckles. "That's cool. When did skating come in?"

"Jeez, you're making it like I'm Tony Alva or something"

"Huh?"

"You know? Lords of Dogtown? Z-Boys?"

Silence.

"Nevermind," I chuckle. "I started skating when I met Oliver."

"Because I know when that was," she says sarcastically.

"Kindergarten."

"Wow, how did you ride a skateboard at age six?"

"Oliver's dad was pro. He would hold me on one side and Oliver on the other and walk us along. I mean, I didn't start doing tricks until I was like, nine or ten, but I can't remember a lot of times not knowing how to ride a skateboard." I like answering Miley's questions. The fact that she's actually interested in me and my life for some godly reason makes my head spin—in a good way.

"Are you amazing at that, too?"

I laugh. Her assumptions that I'm good at these things humor me. I know I'm not bad at them, otherwise I wouldn't keep doing them, and I land a lot of tricks, and do them a lot. It's just sweet of her.

We're almost at the creek. We're stepping over the falling tree trunks as I contemplate a response.

"I haven't done it in a while, like I said. Actually, I brought my board with me," I did so because I thought I'd have enough time and be that bored for the rest of the summer…but I guess not with Miley around. An idea springs into my head, "Oh my god, after this, I'm totally teaching you!"

Miley laughs. "Oh god no, I'd prefer to live, thanks."

"Oh, right, I forgot, you're the least coordinated human being on the planet. My bad."

Suddenly, Miley's warm, soft hands land on my arm and waist and I'm shoved aside. My heart jolts and that little electrifying feeling zips through me.

OH, so that's what that feeling is!

I don't even listen to whatever Miley says next, which is nice, instead of hanging onto her every word for five seconds. I'm that dumbstruck: my body knew I had a thing for Miley before I did.

Yikes.

"Lilly? Hello?"

"Huh?"

"I said, I highly doubt I'm the least coordinated person on Earth."

"Alright, then why won't you let me teach you?"

She just giggles.

"See! Don't try to feed me lies, Miley… Miley… shit, could you please tell me your middle name?"

"Maybe…"

She trails off and I finally look over at her curiously.

The butterflies that instantly stampede through my stomach at the sight of her wavy chestnut locks being pushed behind her in the shady breeze and her giddy smile almost make me want to sigh of contentment. As weird, unexpected, and creepy as these feelings are, they're just as enjoyable.

"If you catch me!"

I don't register her words until she jets in front of me, and then I chase her into the sunny clearing ahead.

She's laughing as we run. She suddenly stumbles and a flash of worry hits me as she begins to tumble over, but she's out of my reach.

She catches herself, though. And then I'm laughing.

"Jerk!" she shouts over her shoulder.

We're kicking up the sand of the bank now. I try to reach out and grab a hold of her, but she dances out of my grasp. I take the time to quickly strip my clothes and she gets a

safe distance and waits till I'm done.

She crosses her arms and curls her fingers around the hem of her shirt, and my heart is beating wildly as I'm still lunging and she's still dodging.

I freeze when it begins to lift… and it's like slow motion as her taut stomach and the tops of her breasts I dare to glance at are revealed. God, her skin is so radiant… smooth. The sun bounces baby yellow off of her, the rest is a baked bronze. I'm always observing the colors of Miley.

The shirt is off and whipped in the general direction of the trees, and I swipe a hand at her again.

Now she's quickly unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans while jumping out of her flip flops. I'm surprised she hasn't tripped herself yet.

The shorts hit the ground and my stomach is twisting excitedly. I'm having more fun than is really necessary with this.

Miley now prances before me in a deep violet bandeau top and matching string bottoms. It's a flattering color. Then again, that's every color when it comes to Miley.

I catch her playful grin and mischievously narrowed eyes. She turns and darts into the water. I'm hot on her trail. She superman jumps into the hip-level water, it feels nice and relaxing, like bath water, and she's accelerating away, foamy white blazing up behind her like fuel to a rocket.

She does swim like a rocket.

I'm swimming, too, following her, but she looks back and grins before slipping underneath a few yards ahead of me.

There's no sign of her. I look down but the creek isn't crystal clear or anything.

I'm almost getting worried after thirty seconds. I begin to swivel around as I tread; I'm out past where I can stand.

I shriek loudly when I feel something tickle, and then wrap around my right ankle. I'm screaming and kicking and then it lets go and Miley pops up a few feet away.

I grimace at her laughing form, and propel forward. My arms are wrapped around her midsection and I'm dunking the both of us under before I know it.

Miley wriggles out of my grasp. Underwater her skin slides against mine, her leg I believe, as she escapes.

I pop up to find her yards away, standing up to her chest.

I jerk forward but don't actually swim towards her. She's three more strokes away, and I chuckle.

She's just eyeing me playfully. I love her playfulness.

I take a big breath, slip underwater, and try opening my eyes, even though I have contacts in. It's uncomfortable and blurry, but I can faintly see her legs up ahead. I shut my eyes and propel in that direction.

I open my eyes again, but she moved, because I don't see her legs. I need to breathe so I kick up.

I hastily turn around and dip my head back half into the water so my hair doesn't make a stupid looking center part and wipe the water from my eyes.

I open them to find Miley standing before me, which means she's behind me—I seemed to have overshot my underwater excursion.

The playfulness is gone from her face… her eyes are straight on me and even though I'm in water I feel myself break into a sweat under her intense stare.

Instead of inquiring, I surge towards her and grab her arms. Her smile instantly returns as she tries to rip them from my grasp. I try to herd her to the shallow water, I subconsciously plan to sit on her and make her say…

Wait, what am I trying to squeeze out of her?

Oh, right. "So, what is it?"

"I'm not telling!"

I yank her over to the shallow water, place a hand on her stomach and momentarily relish in the firmness, and shove her under.

She pops back up and tries to dash past me, but I catch her arm roughly and shove her back in front of me.

"Miley, you have to, I caught you!"

"I don't have to do anything!" She says through giggles. Now she's trying to raise her knee so it peeks out of the water an inch, to separate us.

I drill my shoulder into her stomach and drop her instantly with a splash.

She's trying to kick me away as I clamber onto her. I push her legs down into the floor of sand and sit on her thighs.

"Now you do," I say through a grin.

Miley sniggers and gives me a weak shove. I scarcely budge.

"Really though? Is that all your might?" I question honestly.

She goes to give me a harder shove, but I catch both of her arms and begin trying to work them down.

Miley's shoulders, neck, and subsequently, head, follow. I ease up a bit, I'm not trying to drown the girl.

I watch her jugulars protrude as she cranes her neck, and her eyes are all wide as she sputters, "Ray! Ray! It's Ray!"

I immediately dismantle her, and sit in the water beside her.

Miley Ray. Miley Ray Stewart.

Even her name is cute.

"Now, was that so hard?"

"Yes. I hate it. It's my daddy's middle name… like, I don't understand why I, baby girl, got my father's name.

I snigger at that.

"I hate you, Lilly."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's not a bad name at all, just the fact…"

"Alright, what's yours?"

"Oh, now, that's not important, we don't need to worry about my middle name when we have yours to laugh at."

Miley only tips her head towards me and arches her eyebrows inquisitively.

"I told you mine!"

"So? I never made any promises, darlin'."

Miley bows her head a degree or two and shoots me a menacing glare.

"Okay, okay, it's Diane."

"Lillian Diane…"

I slap her in the arm. "Lilly. Lilly Diane."

"Whatever you say, Lillian."

"If you keep this nonsense up, I'm demoting you to Ray. Just Ray."

"Yeah, so I don't respond? Clever, Lillian. Lillian is such a name of elegance, and grace."

"Okay, let's settle down."

"It's like you're a queen or something. With the satin white gloves and all."

"Shut up, stingray."

Miley stops and gapes at me, and a second later I am greeted by a face full of water. I nearly feel a pang of homesickness when I can't taste any salt, as strange as the desire is, but the triumphant look on Miley's face causes the feeling to shift into the background.

I think, as long as I have Miley, this trip is going to be alright from here on out.

-

"Lilly, seriously, don't you dare let go. It's not gonna make any kinda cute, inspiring Hallmark moment, so don't even think about it," Miley says sternly.

My hands clutch her denim-clad hips. She wobbles this way and that, her knees buckle, she sometimes jolts in place and flails her arms.

I don't know why, but I'm in a haze of disbelief at the location of my hands. Not because I find it weird, or wrong. More like I can't believe I'm actually touching the girl, even though that's occurred one way or another all day.

"Oh, Miley, by now you should realize I'm not that type'a girl. If I was gonna let you go, it'd be strictly for laughs. On my part."

I can't believe I thought this day would be torture. It's very far from anything painful.

Miley jerks unsteadily and I tighten my grip.

Before I can control myself I suddenly glance at Miley's backside, the space between my hands and maybe, possibly a little bit below. Just a glance. There's nothing wrong with curiosity. It's human nature. Which is natural.

A picture, a flashback, comes to me of when I was riding that horse, Darla, at the Trails, and I was looking at Miley as she walked on the ground, scanning her up and down.

I simply didn't even have the desire to look at Miley's… attributes. Or did I? I was looking at her anyway. Like I said, my body knew of my attraction before my mind.

But things have obviously changed. I've crossed a line.

How do I feel about that? I ask myself, but I can't focus enough right now to generate an answer.

It's just a glance. I then keep my eyes trained on her profiled face, and then when I feel my face get hot my eyes follow the length of her hair.

I listen to her mumble something but I'm so busy trying to relax and force my face to drop a few degrees I don't really hear.

"So," she says in my ear as I walk her around the deserted black top, "show me a trick," she requests.

"What, we're five seconds in and you're already bored?"

"Yeah, so entertain me. I'm curious."

Just curious. Curiosity can get a girl in a lot of trouble. Look at where it's landed me; I'm staring at her face although she's concentrating down at her feet, waiting for her to look back.

Slowly, she turns. It's that time of the day where the sun is beginning to set, I've shared a few sunsets with Miley so far. But when her eyes meet mine and the golden sunshine fits around her like a halo and all of her that is facing me is shadowed, the thought that this one is different comes to me. Because today, the sun sets on discovery. On newfound feelings, a new chapter in my life, a new adventure and a bond in which I can't imagine a halt in growing.

It's been a moment. I'm half transfixed on her eyes; they're that bright, bright blue at the moment, not one trace of gray in them like when we get out of the sun. And the rest of me is transfixed on my thoughts, the way it's been all day.

This is weird. I realize just how weird it is when Miley steps off my skateboard and she's still looking into my eyes. My hands linger on her hips for a millisecond until I step onto my board.

The blacktop is very smooth. We're at a park we've passed the two times we've walked into town. Either times it's been empty.

I get a feel around. I love skateboarding. I love cutting through the wind like a knife through melted butter, I love when time seems to stop when I pop up in the air for a trick.

But unfortunately, Amber and Ashley don't share this interest. With them, I share others. On good days they'll watch the guys and me skate, but since they don't really care, they get bored quickly. There hasn't been a day like that since winter break.

I position my feet and kind of pump my legs, then spring up in the air and do an ollie.

"Sweet niblets, Lilly, you just went, like two feet in the air!"

I grin. I don't say anything. I'm too busy entertaining.

I glance over at her. Her weight is shifted on one leg so her hip pops to the side. Her tan arms are crossed, her head is cocked. Her eyes are locked onto my feet.

When I look back up, I see I'm rolling towards the grass. I immediately pivot away, and push off.

I spring up and do a kickflip. I land and coast.

"Wow," Miley says, sounding a little far off.

I do a few other tricks. I'm still kind of rusty. A few of my landings are sloppy.

There's a low, metal bike rack over near the parks entrance. I head over to it. I position my feet, spring into the air, and attach my self to it to stall. I try to be gentle, distribute my weight evenly. I begin to wobble and I release.

I coast back over to Miley, whose eyebrows are raised.

I'm getting closer and closer to her. She's waiting for me to stop. I keep rushing towards her. She yelps when I'm an inch away, at which point I do a revert and narrowly avoid her.

I pivot around and flick my board into my hands. I lean over, gripping the trucks, with the tail balancing on the ground.

"You're dangerous," Miley says, like she's discovered the eighth wonder of the world or something.

"No, I'm just fun."

"You're also impressive."

I lift a hand, breathe on my knuckles, and scrub them on the chest of my tank top. "Well, I try."

"No, you don't," Miley says, "that's why it's so impressive."

When she says 'why' it comes out 'whah,' and it makes me grin. That and the compliment that's now causing my cheeks to heat up.

"Aw, look at you, all blushin' and whatnot."

I'm staring. I don't mean to. I just am. She looks up into my eyes, her own flickering about my face like it has words on it or something, and then she reaches out and one of her soft, skinny hands begin to unwrap my fingers from their grip on the trucks, and she pulls my board away from me. She sets it on the ground and sits, off centered, closer to the nose.

She pats the grip tape beside her and I take a step and sit where she inclined.

My entire right side is pressed against hers. The length of my outer thigh is pressed against the length of hers.

We're silent, our own thoughts the only thing we're both listening to, and maybe the bird tweeting solemnly in the distance. Miley has us facing the sun. I look at the way it's dipped everything in gold.

Miley begins to rock the board side to side. I move with her. My hips mold into hers as we roll.

I've established how comfortable it is even when Miley and I aren't talking. It was, when I didn't realize how I truly felt for her. And it still is.

But now, as we sit, and roll and touch, it's not that it's awkward. It's just tense, on my part. Not the air. But me, on the inside. I don't realize how tense all my muscles are (besides them being sore from swimming for three and a half hours straight), or how all day I haven't taken one relaxing breath.

I do that then, just as a breeze comes. In, out. I think Miley shudders. Maybe she's cold. It has cooled off a tad.

"Lilly…" Miley says softly. Her voice is gentle, pure. It causes a new wave of butterflies to wash over me.

"Hm?"

"Do y' think… that everything happens for a reason?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Makes sense," she mutters, barely audible.

"Huh? Why?"

"Nothing. Forget I asked, okay?"

What? Wait, what does she mean?

"Okay," I say. But inside I'm going crazy with bewilderment.

"I don't have work tomorrow. Come over, whenever you wake up."

"Okay," I say again.

At the thought of doing this with Miley all over again tomorrow, I finally do feel at ease. My muscles and head are still tense and reeling, but my heart is pumping this peaceful bliss all throughout me.

-

We're sitting at the airport. I remember how when I first got here I thought there would be, like, one plane landing in a cornfield, and the place would be a shack. Not this huge, colossal thing bigger than the one back home.

I can scarcely remember what it was like, then. Those feelings. They were so light… I was so naïve. I hadn't seen anything yet.

"Flight 409 to Los Angeles, California" a smooth voice calls over the intercom. It's cold in here.

Me, Max, Mom, and Dad get up and head towards our gates. I see my mother looking at me from the corner of my eye, like she has been this entire time.

I ignore it.

-

I don't get much sleep that night. I keep waking up, flipping open my phone, and staring at this text Miley sent me.

'sweet dreams! :)'

I look at it yet again when I wake up. It's early; 9 or 10.

I've thought some more about my feelings. I keep asking myself these questions I can't answer: How much do I like her? Would I kiss her? Could I kiss her? Do I want to be with her?

I just don't know. All of my answers go both ways. No pun intended.

It feels like, if we were back home and I would have Miley in my life much longer than the next two months, I wouldn't be thinking this quick. I feel like everything has to move so fast, including my thought process, and I just can't catch up.

The entire family is downstairs eating breakfast. They're surprised to see me, as Lane scoots over on the booth and I sit.

"What are you doing up so early, Lilly?" my dad asks.

"Eh, I'm just going over Miley's," I say casually.

"Oh, really?" Carly chimes in. It feels like I haven't seen my cousins in forever, I've been so wrapped up with Miley. Carly opens her mouth so say something else, but I see her jerk up as though something contacted her. Something like Chris's foot to her leg. And she shuts up.

"Yep," I say, as I serve myself some waffles.

"Wow, we might have to bring that girl back home with us," my mom says.

I can feel my lowered, inquiring brow as I look to her. I suddenly wonder how everyone would react if they knew cousin Lilly liked that girl down the street.

"Maybe then you'd actually wake up before 3 in the afternoon."

I chuckle, but it's halfhearted.

This entire time, I didn't realize how much I'm going to miss Miley when I have to leave here. Of course my mother had to spark the thought.

I quickly snap myself out of the thought, and the sadness that struck my insides vanishes. I dig into my breakfast.

-

I watch my black flip-flop clad feet step along the road, and think about that question I asked myself yesterday.

I crossed the line. The one between platonic feelings and thoughts and romantic ones.

I should be scared about that. But there's not enough time to be scared.

I've crossed the line! I'm on the other side! I'm mentally screaming it at myself, but I get no jolt of surprise, no rejection by my body of the thought.

In fact, it just makes more sense; looking at things from this… 'side'.

-

I'm at Miley's front door and I've just rung the doorbell. I hear foot steps from inside.

When the door opens, I see a ridiculously gorgeous woman. Her face is slightly wrinkled and aged, just slightly, so I'm guessing mid-early forties, late thirties. She has dark brown hair, very defined cheek bones, and cobalt eyes exactly like Miley's. In fact, she looks strikingly like Brooke Shields.

"Hi, you must be Mrs. Stewart," I say.

"Yes, I am," she says with a kind smile, "and who are you?"

I open my mouth to tell her, but she beats me to it.

"Oh, you must be Lilly!" She hastily opens the screen door and ushers me into the house. "Miley doesn't quit her talkin' about you! I'm so glad you're visiting for the summer, Miley gets so bored around here, with her friends so far away."

I grin. I'm already fond of this woman, clad in sweats and over sized Reba concert T-shirt.

"Well, I'm glad you're glad." Our eyes meet, and I feel small, yet proud. Proud that I'm off on such a good foot with this woman.

What would you think of me if you knew how I felt about your daughter? I ask Mrs. Stewart silently. But I quickly shake the thought away. Do I want to make myself feel the slight awkwardness of this situation tenfold?

"I can see why Miley likes you," Mrs. Stewart says, her hand falling from the door knob behind her.

I can't. I'm not quite sure what she means, but I smile, genuinely, and thank her.

"Well, ah," Mrs. Stewart clears her throat, "I think she's in the kitchen, or maybe upstairs. You know where her room is? And you can get upstairs through the kitchen too, if y' didn't know. I'm about to run out, I got a few errands to take care of."

"Oh, okay, nice meeting you," I say with another smile.

"You too," she says as she passes me, still with a friendly grin, finally looking away at some point, and then up the stairs.

I walk down the hall, into the kitchen, where I hear a spoon clanking against ceramic glass.

Then I'm a tad bit taken aback by the sight before me.

Miley sits in a pink spaghetti strap top besides a shirtless, golden haired guy, his face is angled downwards at his bowl of cereal as he lets out a cough, and her hand is behind him, I suppose pressed to his back.

Miley never said anything about a brother, or a sibling…

My heart sinks and a painful lump rises in my throat… Miley has a boyfriend.

Fuck.

The guy pounds on his chest and raises his head, just as Miley turns to me.

"Hey, Lilly," she says.

I recognize the guy from somewhere… he looks so familiar…

J… Jackson! The guy from the Trails Miley works with! Shit, they must have been having some fight that time I went to go get her when she was done and he called her back over.

Oh, Christ. Shit. I realize that Miley's boyfriend is here, in the morning, shirtless, and fuck.

They must be sleeping together.

God. Oh my god.

Miley, you could do SO much better…

I try to greet Miley in return, and maybe even Jackson although I've already decided I hate him and he's eternally on my Shit List. But I give her nothing but a quirked brow.

I'm glancing between the two, wondering how exactly the stupid guy got a beauty like Miley. Maybe there are no attractive guys around here.

Miley now looks at me with a confused expression, Jackson just stares blankly.

I imagine I look like a fish out of water, standing there with my mouth opening and closing wordlessly, glancing back and forth and back and forth between the two.

"What are you…" Miley trails off, "Do you—you don't—"

Jackson now looks at Miley, then back to me. I glance at his bare chest and then back to Miley one more time.

"Oh—OH, GOD!" Miley shouts, "Lilly, Lilly, no, Jackson and I are brother and sister!"

My entire body seems to deflate momentarily, relief washes over me. "Okay, god, I'm sorry, I just assumed…"

"No, no, it's fine, I forgot to mention him. Jeez, you're not very observant are you?"

"How was I supposed to—"

She points over at the counter, and at some more photographs hanging on the wall above it. There's a photo of a golden haired baby boy and a light brown haired baby girl with striking dark blue eyes.

I giggle sheepishly. "My bad."

It's silent.

"What…?" Jackson says, obviously clueless.

I look at Miley. We burst into laughter.

"Nothin'," she says. "Just go back to your cave."

"I am!" Jackson retorts, "but not 'cause you told me to!" He snatches his bowl from the table, and stomps towards the stair way between the hall way entrance and the table. "Oh, and nice seein' ya Lilly, even though I don't got a clue what you're sayin'"

I laugh. "Yeah, you too."

I sit in the seat across from Miley, who slips a spoonful of cereal in her mouth. I watch her chew. It's a cute sight. Her eyes get kind of wide and her lips are all scrunchy.

She swallows, and says with a smile,"Well, that wa'nit awkward or an'thing." Her accent seems more prominent than usual. Maybe because she just woke up?

"No, not a bit. Jeez, I'm so stupid."

"Yeah." She goes back to eating her cereal.

I look at her until she tells me she's kidding. She just stares at me and takes another bite.

She laughs loudly when she swallows. "The look on your face! Oh, I'm just kiddin' Lilly-pie."

"Lilly-pie? I thought we talked about this, no name variations." Man, I love play-scolding her. I find myself on the edge of my seat waiting for a heated, clever response. Miley does have a sharp tongue.

"Okay, but you have stingray, I need a name for you, despite you're borin' ord'nary nickname pref'rence."

"No you don't. And I'm not boring. I'm creative. Aren't I, stingray?"

She giggles. "God, that sounds too stupid, please stop calling me that."

"Okay, I won't call you stingray if you don't come up with something equally as stupid."

"Deal," she says while I'm in the middle of the word 'stupid'.

She goes back to eating, and I'm staring hard at the table.

That feeling… that rage, the jealousy, and hurt. I was just furious like I've never been a few minutes ago. I mean, I wanted to wring Jackson's neck, a completely innocent guy, just at the thought that he could be… argh.

What does it all mean…

-

Please, please forgive me for the horrid lack of creativity in the line right above this. Not to draw attention to it. But Jesus.

Oh, and the horrid wait. Please forgive me for that too:)

Obviously this chapter delves a bit further into Lilly's thoughts and feelings. And if you didn't notice this story is pretty much all fluff. Maybe someday I can create something meaningful, maybe one of those multiple storyline type of things.

And hopefully I'm capturing Lilly reactions and feelings and crap efficiently… tell me if anything sounds wrong. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon, because I'm gonna be super busy for the rest of the summer after the next week, then there's school, sooo… Haha. God this is long. Longer than necessary. Okay, bye!