Seriously, I apologize for the uselessness of the first 2500 or so words of this. Really. I kind of hate it but I need to fill in time in the story's world, and something happens that comes up later. Again. Sorry. XD

-

"Your mom's a milf."

I snicker mentally to myself, but I go dead quiet when Miley says, "Is she?"

Wait, did I say that out loud?

"Dammit… um. That wasn't meant for your ears."

My voice is all crackly, as if I just woke up. Quite the contrary—I'm about to fall asleep. I blame it on last night's lack of sleep, and the fact that Miley's bed is a Tempur-Pedic. I imagine this is what lying in a bed of cotton candy feels like, and it's absolutely gorgeous.

Miley's bedroom is flooded with daylight and the scent of laundry detergent and something else I can't quite put my finger on. It's very soothing. As if the knowledge that she is laying beside me isn't enough, the pure scent of her I've caught the times we've hugged or been in close proximity is constantly wafting up into my nostrils.

We're not touching, but we're so close I can feel the warmth radiating off her arm and leg.

At this moment, I'm absolutely humming with… contentment? More than that?

Miley sniggers, "You're not the first to say that." Her voice is normal. She's wide awake.

"Yeah, I can see why. She's really pretty," I sigh, like it takes a lot of effort, which it does because I'm suddenly exhausted, choosing a statement I would use before my realization of being attracted to girls. I'm not trying to give Miley the idea I have the hots for her mom.

"Too bad Lilly, she's taken," Miley grins.

"Puh-lease, if I wanted, I could get her to drop your dad in an achey-breaky heartbeat."

Miley giggles, and my heart kind of shoots up into my throat. "Oh yeah, she's gonna leave the man she's loved for almost two decades for a sixteen year old girl she's met once, who uses unbelievably corny song ref'rences out loud."

I laugh. "Precisely. Seriously though, I don't want your," And then I yawn, "…mom"

"Somebwody s'eepy?" Miley questions in baby speak. My throat-ridden heart pulsates or something, because this lightheaded euphoria washes through me.

I could get used to this.

I flip onto my side, towards Miley. I pull my arm up, throw it up over the pillow and snuggle into it. "Maybe," I croak. I try to clear my throat but I can tell it's not going to sound any clearer.

My eyes drift close. I listen intently to the television. I open my eyes again to find them heavy, but I peek up at Miley anyway.

Her chest rises and falls peacefully. Her eyes are aimed at the television; she doesn't notice me looking at her. Her brow is lowered slightly, as if she's in thought or a bit confused or something. It's adorable. Her chestnut and caramel-tinted hair follow the curves of her chest, bending up along her boobs and swarming all around her neck.

I close my eyes and open them again. I stare hard, close my eyes, open them, and finally close them. I don't want to forget what she looks like at this moment.

I reach down to the waist band of my black soccer shorts and unclip my phone. I press a button and the camera is on. I decide to be a total creep and aim it at Miley, and I take her picture with an animated shutter click that startles her.

"Lilly! Erase that, I look like crap!" Her eyes are aimed at me. She's facing the light streaming in through the huge window I can't see but know is behind me, and it makes her glow, completely, like she's some kind of airbrushed photo lying before me.

Her eyes, though, are what truly catch me. They're not blue-gray, like usual. They're blue-green. The color gets lighter around her pupils; her irises are lined with a dark gray. My stomach tightens suddenly with butterflies.

"Oh shut up, you're gorgeous," I say meekly to my phone as I press save.

"There's no need t' suck up, you little brown noser. That better not be saved," she says in a dangerous tone, and turns back to the TV.

"It's not," I sigh into the pillow. I slip my other arm under the pillow, my phone gripped in it, so hopefully Miley won't take it and get rid of the picture in my sleep.

I can barely hear it, but I block out the TV and tune into Miley's slow, deep breathing. It's weird how people breathe involuntarily.

You know what else is weird? I get so comfy with people's rooms so fast. I've never hesitated to hop right into somebody's bed the first time I've visited their bedroom. I find it silly if Oliver or Amber or someone and I go to an acquaintance's house for one reason or another, and they feel so awkward that they just stand the entire time. I wonder if it gets on people's nerves.

"Miley?" I say, voice sounding its croakiest yet.

"Hm?" She sounds happy. I peek over my arm again to find her head tilted towards me but a smile on her face and her eyes on the TV. This makes me grin stupidly into my own arm. That and the scent of her just renewed itself in my nose. I inhale deeply and sigh. The scent fills me, along with a big batch of butterflies, yet again. This question is stupid but I sorta just want to hear her voice before I fall asleep.

"The other day when I first came over, did you find it weird that I just kind of… hopped into your bed?" The croaky-ness of my voice is almost embarrassing.

I look at Miley again. In the clear light, I can see her cheeks are dusted pink, but it sure as hell wasn't there a few minutes ago. Why is she blushing? Is it me? The TV? Me?

And then she giggles. "No, I didn't. I don't really care. Go to sleep, Lilly."

"Okay." And I do just that, falling into a thick, calm slumber.

-

"Lilly… get up…" she's saying in a very sweet voice, shaking me gently by the arm, and I can feel the softness of her hand even while I'm in that shortly-lived place between asleep and awake.

I'm sleeping in her bed. I am sleeping in Miley's bed… I sing about it in my head. A whole song, lyrics complied of that one fact over and over. In your generic I-have-something-you-don't singsong melody.

"I'm up," I groan into the pillow.

I finally open my eyes… to see Miley's coral pink nails pressing into the mattress, and then the rest of her slim, tanned arm, her tan color really stands out in the still-glowing daylight.

I look to her eyes to see the deep blue set strictly on me, all of her attention is on me, and it's suddenly mind-boggling. It makes me hot all over.

I look up into her face… but she seems to be raking my body with her eyes. I shudder at the look of concentrate on her face.

"What? What is it?" I ask frantically.

She reaches over and peels back the blanket that's clipped beneath my arms.

And then she climbs on top of me. I'm looking into her face, trying to call her eyes to meet mine. She sits on my bladder, and sort of squeezes her legs against my hips as if she's going to fall off of me and her bed.

Oh, fuck, what that does to me…

"What are you…"

She leans down, so far down I am eye level with her cleavage, where her skin looks especially soft… the sight is so absolutely gorgeous I make this little whine against the front of my throat. It feels like the lava rushing through me is now flooding my ear canals, and suddenly its as though my ears popped out like I'm on the plane ten thousand miles in the air.

Her face moves closer and closer like a bird soaring through the sky or a wave pummeling through the ocean. I instinctively tilt my head a little bit from its spot on the pillow, and Holy God, this is it!

I wait for her lips. I wait and wait. I feel nothing but her weight on my waist.

Then I feel a hot trickle of air on my lips, it's her breath and it drives me crazy. I give another little involuntary whimper—shit, my entire body is pumped with that amazing feeling, like I'm beyond turned on, I'm pumped and ravenous for that slim body and those pretty blue eyes and pouty, glossy lips that probably taste as good as they look.

I can't take it anymore—I have to know. Nearly by its own accord, my head reaches for her, my own lips the pilot. I'm reaching… reaching… and there's nothing.

I remember how soft her chest looked, so I reach up a hand to feel… but something wraps around my forehead and pushes me back down.

Unh, god, her touch is searing hot. I let out a groan. The area where she's seated is absolutely pulsating, my heart is racing so heavily it's almost painful, god, how couldn't she feel the way my entire being is throbbing out of control?

It's her hand that's on my forehead. I groggily open my eyes for a split second and see her arm leading to my head.

"Unh, god, wait, how'd I open them twice…" My eyes, I mean.

"Open what?"

I open my eyes… and I find myself in Miley's bedroom. The daylight isn't as bright anymore, but Miley still glows in it. Miley's clothes are the exact same as they were when I fell asleep—a gray hoodie with big blue letters saying 'TSU' and a little tiger head centered beneath it, and white boxers with yellow smiley faces all over them.

But, her arm actually is raised and I still feel the heat of her hand against my forehead.

"Jesus Lilly, what the heck were you dreamin' about? I can feel how hot you are from over here," Miley says.

Oh, shit.

I'm looking at her, balanced on my propped up elbows, and I'm panting, and I'm sweating. I throw the blankets off of me and collapse back against the bed, shut my eyes until I catch my breath.

Although I didn't get to do anything to Miley in my lucid dream, I reply the entire thing in my head, thanking god I didn't forget it already.

"I…I forget. What time is it?" I try desperately to change the subject.

Then Miley's voice gets all low and light, "Two-something. Thanks for sleeping for five hours, by the way. And, I don't think you could forget whatever was gettin' all those noises outta you so fast."

I freeze, horrified. I can hear her saying the words through a smile, and when I turn to look, the lingering throbbing right below my stomach starts right back up, because she has this smirk on her face which makes the words 'horribly' and 'sexy' pop into my mind.

She reaches out and presses two fingers to the bottom of my jaw, pushing my unknowingly agape mouth shut. She chuckles lightly, to no avail of my current concupiscence and… Oh Miley, what are you doing to me…

Shit, fuck, damn, what do I do, what do I say… How the hell did this happen? Those feelings… in the dream… I've never felt anything that intense in my whole life!

And looking at Miley is just making it a reality. It wasn't like this before! Yes, I find her attractive and stuff, I've felt tiny pangs of arousal at certain moments, but nothing like this lasting throbbing and ridiculous inability to speak.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, I'm in total panic mode—come on Lilly! Think, think!

Alright. Okay. I can do this. I have a plan.

"It was you."

Shit… that was stupid! This isn't going to work! I hastily add a cheesy smile and pretend I'm preventing giggles to signify that I'm joking. This will work.

Miley makes this snort-chuckle and says slowly, "No, seriously, who was it? It better not 'a been my mom" Oh, thank god, it worked. Now the option of it being Miley is completely out of the question.

"Well..." I joke.

Miley gasps and slaps the bed out of excitement. As pathetic as it is, imagining her committing those actions in another situation… "Lilly! Oh my god, get outta my house!" I can't really tell if she's joking or serious.

"I'm just joking! It was… a guy from back home."

I expect to hear an, "Oh, okay," or maybe a few inquisitions on our history together that I would have to make up. Although I have gotten as far with a guy as I did with dream Miley, I've never felt anything like my dream-body's response with them.

But instead, the room gets so silent I swear it could swallow me up.

"Oh. I didn't know you had a boyfriend," Miley says in this low, hurt voice.

"I don't!" I say quickly. I clear my throat. "He's just a friend. I don't even like him, I just think he's hot." Whoever he is.

"Oh."

And we lay there with both our eyes glued to a marine life episode on Animal Planet, in silence.

I feel terrible, and frustrated. She sounds upset. I want to ask, 'Oh, Miley, why do you sound upset at the thought of me having a boyfriend?' but I don't want to put her in that corner, because then that puts me right there with her. I don't really know why, but I just can't do that. Not yet.

God, I'm never going to forget that dream. My body seems to have calmed down, finally.

My vision wanders from the television and edges slightly towards Miley. She seems to be lying with her arm on her other side from me tucked under her head. Her arm closest to me leads down. I look to my waist, then over at hers.

Oh, god. Her shirt rides up so I can see the rounding of her hipbone and from seeing her in a bikini, I'm aware Miley has that 'v-card' muscle that Ashley and Amber enjoy pointing out on some of the guys I surf with that also have six packs and softball sized muscles. On Miley it's delicate and feminine, very unlike a guy's—I think I like it more that way. Looking at it up close now immediately yanks all of those hot feelings right back inside of me.

Besides that, what really gets me going is what her other hand is doing. Lightly, absently, she traces the bare strip of skin on her stomach side to side… over and over…

I can't control my respiratory system anyways, but suddenly I inhale a huge breath of air and my chest even kind of… rolls off the bed. I'm left with all these aroused feelings thumping through me when I get back down. Did she notice?

I'm thinking about all those times she's put her hands on me. The softness of them. I'm staring kind of hard at the one traveling along the waistband of her boxers. I want to grab it and touch it so badly.

That sounds extremely creepy. Cool it Lilly, you don't want to turn into that much of a freak.

I sigh to myself, and turn my attention back to the TV. A huge circular creature is scoping along the ocean floor in one shot.

"Hey, I didn't know you were famous, Miley!"

"Huh?"

"You're on TV," I say, pointing at the stingray that's now skimming above the camera's eye so you can see its white belly.

Miley's backhands my thigh. Her touch is searing hot, to me. "Alright, that's it. From here on out, you're Queen Lillian."

I giggle before I can help myself. It sounds extremely goofy and if possible, my cheeks burn further, out of embarrassment. "Whatever you say, stingray."

"Don't rhyme at me, mad'm."

"Seriously, you're just going to refer to me as royalty? If your objective with the nickname is to annoy me, you're gonna have to try harder."

"Well, it's actu'ly a type 'a joke… since your farthest from royal or elegant as possible. Get it?"

"Har har. Yes, I do. Now go get the queen a beverage."

"I'm not your slave!"

"Yes, but I'm your queen. Now go."

She just hits me, and the butterflies in my gut are almost unbearable. I shut up.

Another productive day with Miley Stewart. God, I'm in heaven, even if I am a little unsatisfied if you catch my drift. But the physical aspect of that condition sort of makes it better. I have to laugh at the irony. Here I thought this trip would be hell.

-

About a week has passed since that stupid dream, and since I've crossed the line. I think about it at least fifty different times everyday, whether I'm with Miley or without.

I can't say I've gotten used to my—err—reactions to her. The feeling is out of this world, intense like a broken bone. It stumps me that the body can produce such strong sensations. And getting them about a girl is a whole 'nother animal.

I had another dream about Miley two nights later, equally as, well, hot, and again last night. They were all different, but I see a pattern in them. In one way or another I crave Miley's touch in them but I'm restrained in some form. I translate that literally into me wanting Miley but something preventing me from obtaining her. Does that come back into reality? Is there something holding me back that I don't know about? Maybe fear.

Because now that I have these feelings, what am I going to do about them? Sit here for the next two months and hide them? Yeah, probably.

But… what if I didn't. What if I ran over to Miley's right now and kissed her right on the lips? What would she do? What would she say?

As absolutely insane as the idea obviously is… I only have two months with Miley. A) I'll probably never see her again if things go wrong, and B) I'll regret not taking the chance with someone so special for a long time, possibly the rest of my life. Who knows if these feelings will stay in this place when I leave it?

I can see myself chickening out. I need some help. But really, who can I go to?

Today is different than the other days of the summer so far, even though its just morning. Instead of a bright, sunny sky, it's silver with puffs of smoky gray clouds.

I'm up early today, before the rest of the house. Last night's dream about Miley included a dark, humid forest and some vines that left me in a huge cold sweat. I think it's safe to say I got little sleep after that.

My phone suddenly buzzes to life from its spot between me and Rex on the couch. Rusty's at my feet, swiping his smooth, wet tongue along my bare toes every now and then.

'hey t-cott, miss ya! huge swell hr 2day, rminds me of the time u bailed last summer lmao'

I grin. It's from Oliver.

I'm struck with the fact that I haven't updated him with the news of my newfound feelings towards Miley.

I rapidly type back, 'hah yeah, kinda like the time 'your foot slipped' on that two footer… hxc. can i call?' My heart is beating against my ribcage and my stomach feels all queasy. Why am I so nervous? It's just Oliver. We've shared everything since the 64 pack of crayons since Kindergarten, and I know he has no problem with girl-on-girl. Seriously… god, just repress the memories Lilly, just repress…

'Please take me by the hand

It's so cold out tonight,

I'll put blankets on the bed

I won't turn out the l—'

"Hello?" I say breathlessly into the phone. I'm trembling with nerves. I suddenly realize how cold I am, and look at my legs to find them broken out in a ton of goose bumps. I entertain my weakened hands by stroking the black, silky-furred dog beside me.

"What's up, Lil?" Oliver asks. It's probably sunny and warm where he is.

I reconsider telling him.

No. I have to. He's my best friend.

"Well… okay, I ought to cut to the chase…"

"Uhm…" he sounds like he just had the wind knocked out of him. He's obviously not expecting to be bombarded with my problem. Or expecting that I have a problem. "Is everything alright? Something happen?" Genuine concern bleeds through the bewilderment.

"Yeah, actually… I met someone." Shit, how am I gonna put this?

"Really? So what's the problem?" I hear Oliver gulping a drink or something.

Spit it out, Lilly, come on, Nike, just do it. "It's a girl." I sound oddly calm. Eerily so.

And whatever Oliver what just gulping has been sputtered out loudly, sounding like television static.

Oliver coughs a little bit, but then it's just silent.

Then I start to giggle… not because it's slightly awkward, just because I feel so much lighter without the huge secret of being attracted to another girl on my shoulders.

And now the paranoia enters. "No one heard that, right? No speakerphone, or anything?"

"No, no, just me…"

"Shocked?"

"Oddly… no. Surprised, but not too surprised. No offense, not trying to say I knew all along and think you're a dyke, 'cause I totally—"

I laugh again. He's talking a mile a minute. My nervousness is melting away belatedly. "That's so weird, I felt the exact same way when I realized!"

Oliver sighs of relief. "Cool. So. Who is she?"

"Miley."

"Ahh, yeah, you did say she was hot."

"Upon inquiry."

"Hm… but, is she?"

"No."

Oliver's silent. Then confused. "Sooo… she's ug—"

"She's gorgeous."

Oliver takes that in, then he breaks into laughter. I follow shortly, realizing how absolutely corny that just sounded.

"Oh my god, you're such a little bisexual dork!"

That shuts me up.

"Um… sorry, I didn't mean that, no one heard, either. Really, I—"

"No, it's okay…" my voice is soft, "I just… it's weird to hear it out loud."

"It was weird to say it. But that's what you are. Unless you're one hundred percent for the other team?" It's cool how normal Oliver is about this. It's a huge relief to have a voice of tranquility in the tense sea-storm of confusion I've been stranded in.

"No. I'm not. So… yeah. I am. Bi, I mean."

"Ah… so… what's she like?"

"Well… she's super pretty. She's built like a model, dresses cute, does everything… cute-ly. We've just been hanging out a lot, and she's really fun." I could go on for days, but I leave it at that.

"Do y'think she likes you?"

"I dunno. I haven't really been trying to figure it out."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, I think I'm just trying to get used to the fact, y'know? It all happened so fast. But that's the reason I needed to talk. I'm wondering if I should… well, go for it."

"Hm, we'll, let's look at the pro's and con's…" Oliver Oken has to be my favorite person on the face of the Earth right now. Well, tied with Miley. He's the best friend in existence, seriously. How many straight people would be totally cool with their best friend being bi and giving them as much advice as they can about it? I plan to thank him with everything I own and am when this phone call is ending.

He says a 'thanks' in the background and I hear him swallow some more.

"Pro's: if anything blows up in my face, I never have to see her again, and I could regret letting it pass me by for the rest of my life."

"Cons?"

"Um… the next two months will be hell and… I would be kind of hurt. And I'm deathly scared of doing anything, to be honest."

"Okay," Oliver says in an abrupt tone, "remember that time when we were, like, ten, and just started skating and we were at Motley's with Matt and his big brother, for the first time?"

"Yeah?" Motley's is the park we skate at. I can see where this is going.

"And remember when we were standing at the top of that little quarter pipe and we were scared as hell to go down?"

"Mhm…" a mental image of me looking down at a battered pair of old, small skate shoes over in a shady corner of the skate park I've ripped up just about every inch of by now flashes in my mind.

"But you went and did it?"

"Oliver, I face-planted and chipped two teeth."

"Yeah, yeah, but think about it. No matter what, you had to go through the injury to get to where you are now, as a kickass skater. You know that poster in Mr. Merrick's class, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take… blah, blah, blah… but you know what I mean?"

…Wow. He's right. As cheesy as it is, I can feel something light swirling from my chest to my tummy… hope. "Yeah… I love you, Oliver." I have a stupid smile on my face at my bromantic confession… even though I'm a female, so it's not actually a bromance, but whatever.

"Love ya too, Lil. So, what are you gonna do?"

"Well, as inspiring as your little pep talk was… shit, I'm just nervous. I want to take it slow."

"I don't know about that, you don't have much time… and what's there to be nervous about?"

"She's… there's no way she could like me back." I sigh. I kind of knew all along but I haven't admitted it.

"Why not?"

"Oliver, you have to see her… she's gorgeous, like I said."

"And you're not?"

I'm floored. I was still petting Rex, but my hand freezes. Rusty licks my toes and I jump a little.

"Um…"

"Lilly, come on. I'm not just saying it. It's a known fact. Amber and Ashley say things about you all the time when you're not around. If you're name is ever brought up during a 'guy conversation' it's always something positive, and it's definitely not just 'Lilly is so clean with her tre flips'... You might not dress straight out of Seventeen, but you're face and figure totally make up for it. You're a natural beauty, and—"

"Okay, okay, I get it! I get it. Thanks, though. As gay as you sound, I swear you're the only guy in Seaview that actually knows the name of a magazine portraying girls with clothes on."

"Hey, hypocrite, they help me with the ladies. Ease up."

I laugh. I realize suddenly I only actually giggle around Miley. Ugh, god, she probably thinks I'm such a dork. "I think I need more complimenting."

"Alright, how about this. Are you going to see her today?"

"Um, it's possible. Why?"

"Send me a picture of her."

"That's not creepy or anything."

"Just do it, and I'll give my honest opinion on whether you could bag her or not."

"Actually, I have a picture, and I'm not trying to 'bag' her, I'm trying to seduce her."

"Send it—I have to go, Matt and Connor are coming back, they're gonna wonder who I'm talking to and what about, I don't know if you want them to know…"

"No!" I shout.

"Ear drums!" Oliver complains.

I just laugh. "Thanks, so much Ollie. Seriously, you're the best friend a girl cou—"

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, love you too, you're secrets safe with me, talk to ya later, bye!"

I hear a disconnecting click and snap my phone shut.

I look over at Rex. He looks at me, panting with a small puddle of slobber on the leather couch beneath him, his strawberry pink tongue clashing with his ink black color.

"Mission accomplished," I say to him.

He licks my hand.

-

We're heading into the airplane through the gates. Usually I'd be boyishly intrigued by how science-fictional it looks, but I don't even think of it.

I follow behind Max into the plane with a heavy heart.

And I'm thinking how a lot of the things that happened with Miley, if not the entire thing, were all out of fate.

-

Miley's sitting on the porch, wearing a black tank top, denim jean shorts, and beat up white Adidas shell-tops that may have been pearly white in an earlier era but are now brown, frayed and dirty. She sits on the lowest wooden step with her elbows propped on the one above, rolling her heels on the ground to tap the toes of her sneakers together absently, over and over.

I hear her singing softly, I can't tell what. She has yet to put on a performance for me with a guitar, but she sings frequently, and from what I hear, she really does have a gorgeous voice. All raspy, but she often sings without a southern twang, kind of like when Leona Lewis loses her accent, which kind of stops my brain from working because it sounds so different.

The sky is still all shades of gray, but Miley's skin contrasts it. She glows more than usual with everything around her dull of its color.

The stupid grin wouldn't disappear from my face if Miley was about to tell me my grandmother just died.

"You rang for help, ma'am?"

After my chat with Oliver this morning, I decided to text Miley to see if she was up early; which she was. She invited me over to help her with her chores.

She looks up belatedly, seeming to have spaced out staring at her toes that have paused in their movement. "Since queens don't have t' do work, I guess you can just watch."

No problem. "Don't underestimate the monarchy, minion."

She seems happy to see me. But… I was happy to hear Oliver's voice on the phone.

Shit, how in the world am I going to figure out if she likes me that way? Ugh… this is kind of a disaster… no matter how exhilarating butterflies feel.

Miley leads me around the back. It's pretty windy. The trees sway roughly in the distance.

"What are we doing, by the way?" I ask.

"Um… just feedin'."

"The animals?"

"No, Lilly, the cannibalistic men we keep in the shed. Yes, the animals."

"Pfft. It was a rhetorical question." I say, giving Miley a shove, of which she returns. Her skin is smooth, as always, but I just never get tired of feeling it, let alone looking at it.

I think I feel a raindrop.

"Glad to see ya know what the word 'rhetorical' means."

"I know what it means!" I argue as my phone buzzes. I slip it from my pocket, no sooner than it's taken from my hand.

Shit, she can't read that… it's Oliver's reply to the picture of her I just sent him!

"Whoa, whoa, hey," I say, lunging for my phone, but Miley dances from my hand.

This calls for drastic measures.

I quickly embrace Miley around the waist, my ear pressing to her hip, and drop her as lightly as possible to the ground.

She's trying to squirm out of my arms, but I get up and sit on her stomach.

She begins to giggle and cries playful shouts of 'no!" as I snatch at her fist that swirls away from my reach like a butterfly.

I finally grip her closed fist and begin working away her fingers. For appendages so slim and dainty, she sure has some strength in those hands. I'm scared I'll sprain her finger, but Miley's a little tougher than she looks, I suppose.

She's using her other hand to try and pry mine away, giggling all the while.

I glance at her face to see a grin. The sight of her beneath me on the ground, with her wavy hair all askew around her head—naturally—makes the part of me seated on her, well, 'awaken'. Jeez, this early?

I finally pry my phone from her grasp, dismount her (god, terrible choice of words, I'm now throbbing), and sprint away to read…

'wow… looks pretty cute, cant rly see the face, but w/e. kno 4 sure u could make it happen. good luck!'

A grin forms on my face as I erase the message. I'm going to my sent message and erasing the picture message of her as well when I hear pounding, quick footsteps behind me and a jumble of weight and limbs on my back.

Miley squeezes onto my sides and flails her arms in an attempt to re-capture my phone. I toss it to the grass a foot or two away.

"Aw, you're no fun…" she pouts.

Sheesh, if I didn't know any better… this whole little episode would appear a bit flirtatious in my eyes. But that's just Miley, I suppose.

I wonder if I should make a comment, but I quickly lose the nerve because Miley is bending over to grab my phone, and it's not like she has a fatty or anything but, god, I don't mind what she does have.

Christ, could I be any more perverted… a beat of self-disgust pulses through me, but I shove it down when Miley speaks.

"What was in that phone that I couldn't see, Queenie?"

"Don't you have chores to do?"

"Lilly, you said you erased this! God, my chin looks like Uncle Earl's gut on Thanksgivin'!"

I almost stop her, but then I remember Oliver has the picture anyway, and I can always take more…

Alright, weird, obsessive Miley thoughts stop… right about now.

She gets rid of it, gives my phone back, and with a huff, she strides past me.

I feel another raindrop.

I jog and catch up with her. "Aw, you aren't mad at me, are you, stingy?"

She just keeps walking.

I don't really know why, but I openhandedly slap her ass, just a small tap, and zip by her.

I turn back to her with my tongue sticking out, but I have to laugh at the look on her face. She pulls that faux-astonishment card.

After I let her get me back, in which she punches me in the ass, right on the bone, our banter is over.

And it's enough to tell me I may possibly have a chance with this. Being with her, I mean.

We finally reach the horse stables, I guess we're starting there, when Miley says, "Darn, it's rainin'" even though fat drops have been falling for the past five minutes. Jeez, the horses are far away.

I lean up against the stable doors and listen to the rain gradually begin to pelt the ground outside faster and faster. I watch Miley set a special mixture of food and a few cups of water out for each of the horses' stables.

I'm especially transfixed on her arm muscles. She has very skinny arms, but as she gets further and further away, the definition of them become more and more obvious.

Her face portrays no emotion. Her pretty lips are set in a hard line. I'm thinking about the first time we ever talked in the stables at the Trails. How at first Miley intimidated me, how she always made me feel different even if at first I didn't realize what was actually going on…

"What are you smilin' about over there?" She asks, her relaxed features cracking into a smile of her own from four stables away.

"Ah, nothing."

She's carrying a bucket of water wider than her waist but she doesn't seem to be having much trouble. She fills up the last stall. She then places her thumb and index finger and her mouth and releases a shrill, loud whistle that I'm not prepared for and it breaks the calming rhythm of the rain.

We walk over to the pig pen, while chilly raindrops fall on us, but Miley doesn't seem to mind, so neither do I.

Miley rounds the pig pen to a huge barrel, of which she opens the top to reveal these oversized guinea pig pellets.

"Ew, what is that?"

"Pig food." She says 'food' like 'fewd' and I break into laughter.

"Somethin' funny?"

"'Pig fewd'" I repeat, through giggles.

"Oh, ha, ha, let's all laugh at the Tennessee girl and her funny accent. You know, you talk weird, too. I'd shut up."

"Well, yeah you would."

She throws some pellets at me.

"Hey!" I reach into the barrel, grab a small handful, and Miley runs away when I try to return the fire.

The pigs begin an uproar of oinking, and I release their now wasted food, watching a few of them hit Miley who's now some yards away.

"Yer pigs wahn't thur fewd!" I shout at her, laughing.

The rain is coming down harder; I can feel it seep into my scalp. The dirt ground is darkened and damp.

She comes back over to me and casually begins scooping food into a tin bucket, but suddenly pauses and punches me in the arm, hard. With her bony knuckles.

"OWW!" I yelp.

"That's what you get 'fer dis'respe'tin'!" She tries to make the "that's what you get" part as normal as possible, but then make the "for disrespecting" extremely hillbilly.

"That sounded exactly the same."

Miley rolls her eyes, and huffs, then walks away with the bucket. She doesn't smile.

"Wait! I'm sorry!" I call out, god, am I pathetic.

She's already inside the pig pen, tossing some food on the ground for the half a dozen full grown beasts, but pouring the majority in a long canister attached to the pen.

I'm momentarily transfixed on the brown puddles forming in the dirt. My hair is now plastered to my head, face, and shoulders.

Miley comes back to the barrel again, and I stare her down. She's playfully ignoring me.

"I'm sorry," I say.

She ignores me. Shit, is she actually mad?

"I was only kidding," I say in my most sincere tone. "Your accent is fine. It's cute." I keep my eyes glued to the ground as I confess my true opinion.

"Lyin' is a sin, Queenie," she says as she walks away.

I follow, hot on her step. "Who's telling lies?"

"You. I hate soundin' like a hick. It sounds stupid," she says, and I'm taken aback. I didn't know she disliked things about herself. Let alone one of the cuter things. Even though anything would be a cute thing.

"Maybe to you," I say. I grow braver and braver by the second. I reach and grab hold of the handle to the bucket, and walk beside her so we can share the weight. Damn, it's heavy.

But the tiny smile she gives doesn't go unnoticed by me. Nor do the raindrops trailing down her arms… and chest… and legs…

"Me and all 'a society."

"Miley, come on, there's nothing wrong with a Southern accent!"

She sighs. "Forget it."

I help her tip the bucket into the canister, where the pigs have already gathered and are eating noisily.

"Mahley, ah'm afrayed ah cain't dew thayat. Wood it mayke y' feel bettuhr if ah joined ya?" I return to my normal voice, "I think I could adjust easily, you just say the word and—"

I hear a loud splash, and suddenly tons of muddy water is dripping down my legs.

I look up to Miley, who's smirking at me devilishly and has her own brown hair darkened and plastered all around her face. It whips around her like helicopter wings as she turns and takes about two steps hastily.

I slip my flip flops off quickly, and kick the still-gathering puddle water up at the back of her legs, soaking her shorts.

She turns around to me, mouth wide open, and when I go to walk towards her I step in the puddle, but my foot gets suctioned in.

"Damn, you didn't tell me this was quicksand! Help me, stingray!" I say through a cheesy smile as I'm stumbling over.

She catches onto my impediment, and I predict what she's about to do (shove me down), so when she steps forward with her arms extended forcefully, I grab on and tug her into me… and then we're falling backwards with a huge splash.

I guessed we would have a safe landing, but I feel something slam so hard into my lips I know my teeth cut into the inside of them.

And even through the pain, I somehow feel a pleasurable tingling sensation.

Miley hastily pushes herself up onto her elbow, a hand held to her own mouth and her cobalt eyes rivaling the clouds widened in shock.

"Did we—did we just…" I trail off. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Miley gets to her knees, one between mine and the other outside of mine, but her eyes are on me, and they're smiling even as they match the circumference of golf balls, before she moves her hand so I see her reddened lips are too. And then she's laughing. "How did that happen?!" she asks, and I'm wondering the same thing, and also noting happily she's not disgusted, or angry, or anything.

In fact, the smile in her lips and eyes falter, and she says lowly, "You're bleedin'…" and I inhale sharply as her hand glides gently through the air towards my face, and for a moment the sky is bleeding pink and orange and an ice cream cone is in Miley's other hand again, and she's doing that feather-light swiping motion with her thumb. I hate to ruin the natural innocence of this moment with my stupid hormones, but they're definitely set off to her fingers brushing oh so lightly along my lips.

Our first kiss is a complete and utter freak accident… but it is definitely a kiss.

-

Ohmygod, anyone who read all that is my hero. The neverending chapter from hell.

So. Yeah:D I think this may be the last of pointless fluffy chapters with no true storyline in them whatsoever! Please though, don't hesitate to tell me how blahhh this is. I really feel like this story is going downhill… but I promise interesting things will start happening in the next chapters.

Which, ah, will not be up not as soon as this one wassss… ahah love you guys:D