The sound of my hollow footsteps on wooden stairs slides into the background as I hear a muffled, upbeat acoustic melody. I reach the top of the steps and walk down the hallway, the music growing louder, and then I hear a raspy singing voice accompanying it.

I reach Miley's bedroom door, my destination, and I pause to listen to the music bleeding through it.

"…And I hear your words that I made up

You say my name like there could be an us

I best tidy up my head, I'm the only one in love

I'm the only one in love"

I know Miley has a gorgeous singing voice, she uses it softly while she's walking beside me and there's nothing to be said, and loudly while she's in her shower and I read a magazine or watch TV on her bed. It's gravelly, with a southern twang, and of course it's beautiful.

But for some reason, while I twist the door knob cautiously and try to exert as little weight as possible on my feet, it sounds like it has a little extra something trickling through.

Only the back of her head is visible, as I watch her nod to the beat, and the music is actually pretty loud now that I'm in the room. Her brown hair is tied into a floppy bun and it bobs up and down as her arm strikes the guitar strings I can't see.

"Why do you steal my hand

Whenever I'm standin' my own ground?

You build me up and leave me there"

Miley seems to know the song by heart or something. I have no idea what it is, maybe she wrote it. She plays flawlessly, even though I can't tell if she's making mistakes or not.

"I hear your words you made up

I say your name like there should be an us

I best tidy up my head, I'm the only one in love"

'And I hear your words that I made up, you say my name like there could be an us, I best tidy up my head, I'm the only one in love…' I wonder if this song means anything to her…

Maybe, explaining her feelings about a certain blonde girl that really can't stop thinking about her. It would sound weird to me one month ago, hoping another girl is singing a song about unrequited love towards me, but now the thought snakes through my subconscious without warning, or, care.

The strumming of her guitar softens, and she sings the last line like a quiet afterthought,

'…I'm the only one in love'

And this convinces me her song means something.

She stands, and I take in her tiny waist and long, slender legs as quickly as I can, and as her eyes hit me and she processes my being, she springs back with wide eyes and a "Good Ch-Christ!"

I hold my hands up in some kind of surrender, her startled actions pulling it out of me, and "Sorry Miles, I didn't mean to freak you out! I just didn't wanna interrupt you, or like… anything," spills out. Lameee.

She calms down and takes a deep breath, and lifts her guitar over her head. In the process, her form-hugging t-shirt rides up and I am shown the rounding of her hip bones peeking out of her cotton shorts.

Everything inside of me tightens and speeds up, as expected.

"It's okay," she says, exhaling. "Don't worry about it," she mutters lowly.

Awkwardness jumps right on into the room as we both sit down on her bed, and she turns on the TV. "Batman Begins" is on.

After two moments, I say, "You sounded amazing." I look up to see her grin sheepishly, and my heart that is currently vacationing in the base of my throat just flutters in response.

"Thanks," she says quietly, and it comes out raspy, like some of her every other words do. I wonder why she has such a raspy voice.

But with the low, distant tone her voice has required, I know something's wrong. "Did you write it?" I wait for her to say yes.

"No, it's called Melt My Heart to Stone, by Adele."

Of course. A wave of stupidity, and for some reason, slight hurt, crashes down on me.

"Oh… it's a good song."

"Mhm."

I consider telling her now. I'm beginning to form the words in my head…

I take a big breath, and…"Do you have anything to eat?"

Okay, not quite what I had planned…

"Uh… sure…" she seems thrown off by that breath.

She leads me downstairs, but I barely see where I'm going, I'm so consumed with my thoughts. That was too weird. Is it possible she was just singing with me in mind? Is there anyone else? She does go to a boarding school. I've never asked about Miley's love life.

Miley's kitchen cabinets are made of a dark brown wood, and the daylight coming through the window makes the kitchen look all old-fashioned and woodsy. I like it. Its soothing.

"Miley?" I begin slowly once Miley pulls out some tortilla chips and salsa.

"No."

"Huh? You didn't even hear my question?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

I smile stupidly, at how she knows me so well. But after that ridiculous kiss in her backyard a few days ago, this equally ridiculous wall has spurred inside of me, one that constantly warns me not to let Miley know.

So, I (unsuccessfully) wipe the smile off my face and say, "I was actually going to ask where your glasses are, but thanks for the memo."

Miley tips her head with an "Ah," then strides over to her cabinets and gets out two glasses in which she pours us iced tea.

Miley doesn't like me. I tell myself many times a day. Too many times.

But the more I tell myself, the more I realize I shouldn't have to convince myself if I knew it weren't true.

-

"Dani-Dan!" Miley coos. "Whatchyou doin' girl? Whatcha doin'?"

I'm not trying to destroy the blissful innocence of this moment, seriously, it's so sweet I think I feel my teeth tingling, but Miley is leaning over to get eye level with my baby cousin seated on my lap, and the view straight down her teal colored v-neck is turning my brain to mush.

I still get a little freaked out at how attracted I am to Miley. It's not… It's not normal! I'm aware I prefer girls, plenty of sleepless nights contributing to that conclusion, but is this just how it is to have a crush on one? Is this how guys feel about girls? Do girls get this hot over guys? God, if this is how obsessed a crush is making me, I'm not sure if I want to see the day I fall in love…

Girls have so much more… Curves… Soft, tan skin… Big cobalt eyes… pouty, shiny lips, soft, silky hair that smells like concentrate vanilla, pretty singing voices, legs for days—

"OW!" My freakish, intense gaze on Miley's cleavage is broken as I frantically try to unwrap the grip of Danielle's hand on my hair. I finally succeed and lift Dani up and plop her onto Miley's lap, running my fingers through the tangled strands. My scalp throbs and stings.

"Ar--Are y'okay?" Miley asks between giggles.

I prop my feet up on the footrest and lay my head back on the couch. My throat is stretched and exposed uncomfortably, but I ignore it. "Just peachy." I grab for the remote and begin to channel surf, eyes aimed at my aunt and uncles' huge TV I've grown to know and love every inch of, but truly focused on Miley.

She's actually doing something interesting, as in, looking back at me, for once. Okay, not true, Miley looks at me a lot. Not as obsessively as I do her. Well, I think she's just one of those observant people. Yeah, that's it.

But what's there really to observe about me sitting on the couch?

I roll my head over towards her. My ears are set on prickly fire when she looks away bashfully, embarrassed I caught her. Shit, I'm embarrassed I caught her. Strange how that works.

But I can't let Miley know that. "See something you like?"

"No, but I do see somethin' cocky an' arrogant."

"Huh? Kanye West's in the room?"

"Shut up, Lilly."

"Oof!" The weight is knocked out of me as Miley places my baby cousin back into my lap.

Miley gets up and walks away. Her butt sways side to side and, like a dog, I hop right up and follow her, my forearm under Dani's butt and her arms wound around my neck. She smells like baby oil.

My eyes follow Miley's butt as she goes over to the counter. I take a sideways seat in one of the chairs across from the booth in the kitchen, for once. Dani slides down to my legs.

I rest my chin on the top of the chair's back and watch Miley pour herself some lemonade. Her shirt is ridden up in the back and I can see the tiniest sliver of her tan skin. Delightful butterflies stir around in my stomach. I realize how horny I actually am, followed shortly by extreme guilt seeing as to how there's a two year old in my lap. Ugh, I'm horrible…

Miley comes over and sits in the chair at the head of the table, beside me. I feel my eyes widen. Her entire face is hot pink.

I want to ask, why, but I just find staring at the table a little more interesting. That'd be kind of awkward.

But seriously, why is she blushing?

My eyes are all narrowed and my brow is tightened to the point of a headache, as I watch Miley.

Me… on the couch… with my head tilted back… and my entire neck exposed. I mean, it's a slightly lascivious position…

No.

No way.

Miley's eyes slide up over the glass as she takes a generous gulp, widened very similarly to a deer in headlights, and aimed directly into mine, before shooting back down.

Now it's kind of awkward. And as uncomfortable as I now am, fidgeting to somehow dismiss a bit of the dampness appearing between me and the seat, I'm ecstatic.

So… so does she—

"Hey, guys," Carly's voice wafts into the room and into my head. I didn't even hear the back door open. I turn my head to see her and Chris enter the kitchen. Chris's eyes widen momentarily when they land on Miley.

I feel terrible every time I see that stupid kid. The guiltiness I already feel for indulging in my feelings for Miley the way I do triples whenever he walks into a room. He really does talk about her in his sleep sometimes. Carly teases him at least every other day about Miley.

And also… he has more of a chance of being with Miley, even despite the age difference, than I ever will. As far as I know, Miley's not into girls, but this little episode may prove me wrong.

Don't get your hopes up Truscott. Just don't.

"Hey," Miley responds meekly.

"What are you guys up to?" I ask. I sift through Dani's blonde locks, naturally curled at the bottom near her tiny shoulders. Babies are so fascinating. They're like tiny people. Baby humans.

"Grabbing the macaroni salad… Are you guys coming back outside?"

It's the fourth of July. Aunt Tiff and Uncle Dean have practically the entire town and some of our family in the backyard, along with a moon bounce and a tent and what not. Later we're all going to see fireworks at the public school a bit into town. Miley doesn't want to go. I understand, the girls that messed with her when she was younger may be there. It would be best if we didn't go. They better pray to god they don't have to run into me. Or my fist.

"Yeah, Dani just woke up." I bounce her on my lap.

Miley puts her emptied glass down and pokes Dani in the tummy. Dani giggles, all high-pitched and childish and whatnot. It's adorable.

And then I see the smile back on Miley's face and it's gorgeous.

Curiously, I look over at Chris. His eyes are already on me, though, and just like they did moments ago on the couch, my ears heat up.

Please don't hate me…

Oh, what the hell am I talking about; he doesn't know crack-shit.

I stand up with Dani in my arms and Chris leads us outside, holding the bowl of macaroni salad in one hand.

"Lillian!" cries a shrill, scratchy voice when I'm a few steps onto the deck. "Get that cute butt over here!"

I cringe.

It's Grandma.

Carly, Miley, and even Chris laugh. I hate my name.

"Miley Ray, get on over here and meet Ms. Tiff's mother," Miley's Mamaw calls out. Now I chuckle as Miley scoffs.

I look over to where everyone on the deck is seated. Everyone's eyes are on me.

Grandma is skin and bones, with short white hair and crystalline blue eyes exactly like my mom's and mine. She dresses extremely fashionably, which probably explains where my mom and Aunt Tiff's adoration for clothing comes from. She's wearing a navy blue sleeveless top with ruffles down the chest and a silver necklace with a ruby stone sitting on her wrinkled, tanned chest.

"Lillian, oh my" Grandma says as I lean over to hug her where she sits between my mom and Aunt Tiff. When I pull back she says, loudly, "Did I say cute? I meant gorgeous! Would you—would you look at her?" She turns her head every which way to gather everyone's attention. Miley's Mamaw is nodding in agreement. I met her earlier, she's very sweet, very tough love, and very wise.

Why does everyone do this. Make such a big deal about my looks. I'm not that great. I swear, it's these old people being too proud of their offspring…

"Hello to you, too, Grandma," I say, and everyone chuckles. I'm standing awkwardly at the edge of the table, rocking back and forth on my heels with my arms crossed. People are beginning to go back to talking amongst themselves, but my family's attention is still on me.

"Dean, be a dear and get Lillian," I cringe, "a chair."

Minutes later Miley, Carly, Chris, and I are all crammed at the end of the table, mom, Aunt Tiff, and Grandma around the corner to my right. Miley's parents and her Mamaw sit to my left.

"Lillian, I really cannot get over how much you've grown," Grandma gushes, and I know exactly what's coming next. I grip a bar of the fold-up table so hard my shaking knuckles turn white. "The last time I saw you, you were a sure B-cup!"

Everyone's heads swivel to look at my boobs. Thanks Grandma, thank you.

"Yes, Grandma, I still am," I say through clenched teeth. I don't mean to sound to maniac, but….

"No!" Grandma says, in that elderly tone of voice that makes me swear she's mocking me.

Please, kill me now. Please.

"Yes," I hiss.

Something taps my right shin underneath the table. I look up into my mom's face to see her eyes widen warningly at me. I resist the urge to roll my own eyes.

"So, Grandma, how've you been doing?" I say a little too sweetly. I hear Miley snicker from beside me. Chris is on her other side, and for some reason it only irritates me further.

"Oh, I'm good, I'm just fine… how are you? I miss you every day, with all my heart, Lillian. You know that?"

I hear Miley make an odd squeaky, "Awww!" under her breath beside me. I hate when she does things under her breath, especially when we're in front of my Grandma. It just does things to me. That whole awkward thing back in the kitchen comes to mind, but I suppress it. I don't need to be playing Nancy Drew in my head while trying to get this greeting with Grandma over with.

"Yes, I know, I miss you too," I say earnestly. I half mean it. Okay, more than half, I'm not that heartless.

"I'm glad to hear it, dear-y. I brought you something," Grandma says sweetly.

I wait patiently as my Grandma fishes through a huge, white leather Gucci bag my jaw nearly drops at. Yes, she's one of those Grandma's.

She pulls out a rectangular box and places it on the table in front of her, as well as a pack of Peach rings and a box of Godiva chocolates.

My face draws into a comical frown, and an appreciative nod. I don't care about the box, it's probably something too flashy for me, anyways. But my favorite candies landing on the table are impressive enough.

Grandma lifts a shaky hand and pushes it towards me. "Now, Lillian," I cringe yet again, "since I missed your sixteenth birthday, I wanted to make it up to you with this…"

I'm still convinced it's going to be atrocious, but when I open the long box I see a thick metal chain, with a T-clasp and a flat, silver heart with "PLEASE RETURN TO TIFFANY & CO NEW YORK," engraved on it.

It's adorable. Not Dani giggle adorable, or Miley smile adorable, but just as good. I go to thank her but she slides another box over. My mother turns her head to Grandma with an odd look on her face. It's a suede, black ring box. I open it to find a ring with three diamonds, small, big, small, embedded in it.

"White gold," Grandma informs me.

I can't keep the gracious grin from my face. My mom can't keep a certain look from her own face, one that makes Grandma say "oh, hush," to her lowly. I stand up and give Grandma another hug. "Thank you," I say to her, but it comes out a little softer than I meant it to.

"No need, Lillian, anything for my gorgeous granddaughter."

I feel a tad guilty for how I acted. I think I'm just a little stunned.

I slip the ring on my right ring finger. It's gorgeous. I feel like I'm engaged. My thoughts are brought back to Miley, who I turn to and find her staring at the ring.

Her eyes meet mine. Today they're blue-green. "It's really pretty," she says.

It is. But not as pretty as her.

God, did I really just think that?

…Did I really mean it?

I lift the necklace from the box. Everyone is watching me bejewel myself.

Miley's fingers are suddenly brushing mine as she takes it from my hands, and she sweeps my hair to my shoulder. I involuntarily shiver when her fingertips skim along my neck. God damn. Her fingers tickles as she fits the T through the clasp, making me jerk embarrassingly. Please, God, let no one have noticed that….

We eat and talk some more. I stare at my ring throughout dinner. Everyone does.

"Come on," Miley says in my ear as I'm on my last bite of hot dog. Her low, breathy voice all over my sensitive ear almost makes me choke on my food. She tugs at my wrist.

I stand up. She slips her hand into mine and grips. It makes me grin goofily.

But then I realize Miley's just a friend, just a girl, who likes guys… right?

I need to know for sure. Guessing is killing me.

I stare at her dainty, sharp knuckles, the slim back of her hand cupped by mine, and my eyes travel up her skinny arm and tiny waist.

I want her.

I'm not quite sure how… whether underneath me on Aunt Tiff and Uncle Dean's guest bed, like in my dreams (literally), or leading me everywhere with our hands clasping each other's. But I realize, in a dizzying moment that occurs like a light switch being flicked on, that I'm sure I want her.

Miley's hand slips from mine and the warm air, cool compared to her slightly moist palm, slips in to take its place. The feeling actually saddens me.

She sits on the emerald green hammock, weighing it all down under her. She pats next to her, and I sit, too. The deck seems kind of far away as we sit all secluded from the party. The voices are loud, though. I hear Uncle Dean's gruff southern twang and Mr. Stewart's laugh.

Miley maneuvers herself around so she's laying. I do the same, then reach over and push us off. The hammock makes me slide into her and the entire right half of my body is on blissful fire. Sparks ignite in my abdomen, tingling. As of late, it doesn't get much better than this, and I am way more than okay with that.

Still… I want her. I feel like I'm being greedy. Miley's a gift, to me, I realize. And I still want more.

I feel things between my legs tingle a slight bit, when she goes to hold my hand again. I look down and watch her fingers skim along the back of my hand, but the feeling… that tingling turns into a lot. My heart beats in slow motion, the blood has been replaced with molasses.

She presses her fingertips into my palm, and lifts my hand up. I turn my head to see her clear blue eyes aimed at my ring. Miley's other arm is cocked up beside her head, palm under her sea of brown hair that tickles my cheek. My heart flutters, just from her touch. This is so stupid. These feelings. Over these stupid things stupid Miley does.

I look over to the grass, or at the deck, I don't know. Because I don't really even look. I'm still looking at Miley from the corner of my eye.

Ridiculous. I'm ridicul—

"So, I noticed your Grandma's loaded," she says in this husky, drowsy voice that makes my hips kind of… budge.

My cheeks are aflame. She had to have noticed that. Shit. "Oh, erm, yeah."

Miley bends her knee and sets my hand on her thigh. The hand is burning. And sweaty. And mortifying.

She takes her thumb and index finger and begins to spin my ring around on my finger.

Her eyes are on mine when I turn to silently ask what exactly she thinks she's doing. She stares, with that calm, cool stare that drives me absolutely nuts.

"My grand father passed away," my voice is almost a whisper. "He owned a chain restaurant since 1937. So she inherited all his money."

"I'm sorry," Miley rasps, nearly inaudibly.

I just look at her. I don't say anything. My eyes jump from her eyes to her nose to her lips to her hairline. We're so close, I can see the individual hairs sprouting from her scalp. I can't see her pores, like in the kissing dreams. But I can see the flecks of green in her eyes… I can see me in the glassy reflection of them. I can see the pink sky behind my head. Another sunset.

I scan further down her face. I see the freckles on her nose. And I… I'm already sweating by the time her lips are in sight. But the way they're parted so I can see her pearly white teeth behind them makes me even hotter…

Her bubblegum tongue darts out and sweeps over the bottom one, then it pouts right back out, now all shiny, and my breath quickens. Blood pools in my bladder, I feel things clench tightly, I feel the voices of the party drown out to the blood rushing over my ear drums.

Is… is she watching this?

I look back up to her eyes. They're already into mine. Maybe that's why I'm sweating. A perfect eyebrow is lowered, making a crease in her forehead I just ache to somehow smooth out with my thumb no matter how cute it is. I don't want her to be confused.

Why can't she just understand?

I'm glancing between her eyes and her lips.

I'm going to do it.

You miss 100% of the shots you don't take…

I'm scooting closer. I'm scared as hell. I'm terrified. Because she still has her eyebrow dipped sexily but disagreeably.

But I have to do this. I want her. I want her, and I have to know, no more guessing, and no more yearning.

I quickly lift my head and look over my shoulder to see if anyone's coming.

By the time I look back, Miley's face is towards the sky, eyes flicking over the clouds, and shit.

The chance and beat of confidence slipped through me like sand through my fingers. My back hits the hammock with a sigh.

She has to know what I was about to make happen. Oh, what are you thinking, Miley…

"D' y'all wanna come see fireworks at the school?" Brooke asks. Taylor and Carly and Chris and Lane and Max are behind her. They're all looking at me and Miley. Could they have seen....? No… no, I didn't see them a few seconds ago.

"Yeah, we'll catch up in a few minutes."

"Okay," and they all trek back over to the deck.

I look over to Miley. I suddenly hate the way her arm and leg feels pressed up against mine.

She just looks up at the sky, it makes her glow in hot pink and I hate how weak my insides suddenly feel.

I just hate how I didn't get that kiss.

The majority of people on the deck file into the house, and then I hear them in the distance, in front of the house, as I stare up at purple and hot pink.

The hammock begins to rock and Miley's elbow comes into my view.

"C'mon," She says, getting unsteadily out of the hammock, leaving me to weigh it down myself.

"You wanna go?"

"Not to the school."

"Oh… then… where?"

"Just come on."

She heads towards the woods. I watch her hips sway, like I did in the house and every other time we've hung out and walked around somewhere. I want to punch myself in the stomach for liking it so much, but I follow her anyway.

-

"Okay, why are we here?" I feel pretty foolish admitting this, but the creek looked kind of magical, like something out of a Disney movie, with the fireflies soaring above the water's inky surface, cutting through the dusky sky, leaving glowing ribbon trails. The sun has set by now. Frogs are ribbiting and plopping in and out of the water. Crickets and other nightly bugs screech in the background. Its nature and its imperfect and nearly breathtaking.

But what actually did take my breath away was the mischievous grin on Miley's face that I have grown to know and love. I know pretty well how this attraction works, but the side affects often catch me by surprise; kind of this lack of air that makes me lightheaded, instantly, in a good way. The best way.

"To swim"

"But I don't have a…a…"

I'm lost in the sight of Miley gripping the hem of her hot pink tank top and inversing it over her head.

In almost slow motion her hips appear, and then the shallow canyon of muscle running up the center of her midriff, and finally her ribs arched out—and I have to look away to the wheatgrass swaying lightly in the night breeze. Then I hear her unzip her shorts and hear the light thud of them falling to the ground. I look behind her and see the very sands I chased Miley to get her to tell me her middle name. Strange how, here I am now, looking back at a place I once was. Strange how much has happened between that day and this one. Well, not much, seeing as to how it was not even a month ago, but still.

My thoughts run amuck through the lazy summer night; but there's one that sticks out vividly from the rest; God, I wish I was hearing those shorts make that sound for a different situation…

I'm still a little embarrassed at my failed kiss attempt on the hammock, but I can always try again. I'm taken aback at how angry I was at Miley, in my head, how frustrated… whatever, it's over.

Miley sits and lowers herself into the water from the dock. We usually just walk in from the bank, but we took a different path that spouted from my aunt and uncle's backyard that led us to the dock a little over to the right of it, wheatgrass between. I hear her dunk under, and search for where she will resurface.

She's across from where I stand. She can't see me; her eyes are closed as she shoots back up. All of her hair is plastered behind her. Her entire chest is wet, and the fact that she's wearing a seductive violet colored v-cut bra and not her cute tie-dye halter bikini top does something to me. I feel it shoot up my torso, and butterflies in my stomach like smoky air after a building collapses. What the human body is capable of…

Her eyes flicker open, she blinks hard, squeezes them shut and wipes excess creek water from them. "Come on, Queenie," she says in this voice that makes her sound seductive and womanly and daring and childish all at once, "Do or die." And it sends another bolt of god knows what through every centimeter of my axial structure.

I gulp, hopefully low enough that she didn't hear, and pull my arms inside my shirt and lift it over my head. Christ, did I really have to wear this bra… I look down to see the orange backdrop and multicolored stars I dawned my chest with this morning, as if to double check it hadn't magically changed despite the lack of proximity to my underwear drawer I've had since this morning—Miley's eyes are on me.

My skin flashes so cold it's hot, or so hot it's cold, and then bashfulness floods me. I glance bravely into her eyes. They're not aimed into mine. They're watching all that exists below my eyes, impatiently, but… intensely.

And I feel weird stripping in front of Miley. Did she plan this? Does she know what I'm feeling? Is she feeling it this too, like she may have been before dinner?

Clothes hide a lot. They hide what I've truly been given in this human life, the true shape I take, no more, no less.

I'm being stupid; she's seen just as much of me in a bathing suit. At least we're not skinny dipping or something.

And Miley's just a girl, I go on in my head as I hop from the dock into the water with a slight splash and my feet sink slightly into the gooey sand floor, why should I feel so embarrassed? Girls all have the same thing… and yet… all in different packages. I realize that I'm self-conscious when it comes to showing Miley mine…. Because she may not like it. Despite she, y'know, looks, is looking, and I also seem to do that.

But the question still is… does she feel what I feel?

I feel clumsy and generally unattractive as I join Miley. I feel a little weird going into the dark water in thin underwear. The way she watches me makes me feel high, absolutely high. Her eyes are on me. Me, of all people.

God, what does she think…

I'm standing next to her, looking out at the water in front of me, but my vision is pretty much blurred because I'm so lightheaded from being right next to her and having her in the corner of my eye.

"Look," she says softly.

If before she made my breath leak from me, she is now reaching into me and rapidly grabbing handfuls of oxygen from my lungs. Her face is illuminated by dull orange from the fireflies that float around through the inky black. They make her cobalt eyes look teary and Christ do I want nothing more than to kiss those lips…

A long arm is erected towards the wheat grass. Water droplets fall from it. I don't even follow where Miley's pointing. I wonder where else water trails down, and glance at the cup of her sexy bra, (okay, maybe it's a slightly elongated glance, maybe like a stare), and then I'm studying her hip facing me. It's coated in a layer of quickly dissipating creek water that glimmers somewhat in the fireflies' light. And, as I predicted, droplets make their short paths back down into the water and I wonder if she'd even mind if I bent over and followed them with my tongue...

God, what am I saying?! I sound like Oliver! I feel like such a dirty old man right now… this is exactly what I detest about men, and I'm doing it. Miley must feel how I feel whenever I go surfing with some guy and I take off my wetsuit when we're done and he just stares.

I stare guiltily across the creek and try to ignore my heart pounding and the throbbing going on in the area right where the water comes up to.

"I personally find this better'an fireworks …" Miley says, still in that low tone, as if talking at normal volume would scare the frogs and dragonflies away.

"I agree." The fireflies glowing ribbons mesmerize me a bit.

With her wavy, seemingly wind tossed hair, and still that god damn bra, I can't rip my eyes from her.

"Cute bra," she snickers. I watch her lowered eyes flicker all over my chest.

Come on. Seriously, though? If she didn't like me the way I liked her, she wouldn't be gazing at my chest.

She has to.

But what if she doesn't?

She does.

But how could you make sure?

Miley's done with 'observing my cute bra', and is now looking into my eyes. There's something about looking into those things… making eye contact with a person comes with this feeling, kind of like we're all each other can see for the length of it, and all of our attention is given to each other. But when it's with Miley, when it's at times like these when it's not a quick glance during a conversation on a sunny day, but at night, in the creek, in this romantic atmosphere that can't be shaken off…

This is more than a crush.

She squeaks and jumps in my one hand on the rounding of her shoulder when I surge forward and press my lips to her cheek. One Mississippi… her cheek is impossibly soft… two Mississippi… impossibly smooth…. I pull away.

Her eyes are kind of widened. Her fingers flex in the water. Her arm that she was pointing with is now extended towards one of the wide, wooden posts supporting the dock that the water sloshes against. Her hand grips it for dear life.

Suddenly it seems like she's taken a safety pin to my heart and it is now deflating into my cracking ribcage. She looks to the side, eyes still large and jumping anywhere but me on the creek's surface. "What was that for…?" she mumbles in a tone of complete awe.

"Um…" I don't know what to say. This is horribly awkward. So awkward it nearly hurts. But that's her disliking my kiss's job. Making me hurt. "Just for bringing me here…" my voice wants to crack. I feel hot tears behind my eyes, and that sore lump in my throat I hate with everything in me.

My fingers drop from her shoulder, fall to the water's surface with a tiny splash. She's up close, just how I like her to be. I don't know why she hasn't made a distance from me yet. I study her face and she studies the water beside me, with wide, bewildered eyes.

'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…'

I feel paralyzed. I want to reach up, put my now wet palm up on Miley's cheek, and make her look at me instead of the stupid water, but I just can't.

From my hips inwards clenches nervously. It's a feeling I never felt until I came to Tennessee. My heart flutters high and fearfully.

I lift my hand, just a tad, out of the water. I'm almost surprised because it seemed like it would weigh a ton. It seemed like a force was holding it down, but it lifts through the air with ease.

Miley watches my hand intently. Slowly. Her breathing is slightly heavy, and quick. As if she's scared. I don't want to scare her.

Suddenly, she snatches it in midair. I feel her hand enclosed around mine before I see it. I feel like a freeze ray blasted me still. Now my entire body feels stifled, paralyzed, instead of just my arm.

She's looking at me, shocked that she, for some reason, grabbed my hand. Her cheeks kind of puff out and she's breathing like she's just ran a race. It tickles my nose… and my lips… and…

My lips are parted and kind of close on Miley's when we touch. Miley's lips are soft on mine, tense, but soft. That's the first thing I notice. She's stiff as a board. I press my lips harder, and feel her hard teeth behind them.

So this is what they're like… Fireworks, that is, as cliché as they may be. They're real. God, they're good…. Far beyond good. Far beyond perfect. Far beyond anything I've ever imagined or felt. My entire body tingles, every nerve, every atom of me is exploding, my teeth tingle, my lips tingle, when all my muscles clench simultaneously it just pumps this sweet sensation all through me…

Her hand falls from mine, and hit the water's surface with a 'plop'. I curl my hand into me, still in the air, awkwardly.

At first it was like… going under water before you're ready. Like a shock to my system. And now I'm just prickled with waves of electricity. All my previous kisses, with boys, as nervous as I was, the nerves kind of died out once our lips were pressed together. It was just lip-to-lip contact. No more.

This kiss with Miley feels like soul-to-soul contact. That sounds corny, but—

It's gone. It left. Miley has jerked away from me.

My eyes flutter open. My fingers swish through water as my arm falls limp.

Miley is out of breath. The kiss couldn't have been that long…

She's just staring at me, breathing heavily, eyes jumping all over my face. Looking scared. Shocked. Completely confused.

"W…" I speak. I had no words planned to say.

My eyes attach onto one of the fireflies floating behind Miley.

"Lilly…" she says in a tone of voice that good words I want to hear can't possibly follow. I stare extremely hard at the fireflies. They begin to blur. My eyes begin to water… with tears.

I never want to hear her say my name like that ever again. I wade past her, through the water.

I never want to hear her say anything ever again.

I was so certain this would go right, I climb the little ladder falling from the edge of the dock, that I didn't picture how badly it would hurt if I actually tried to kiss Miley. If I actually ruined things. I was so caught up in how brilliant my life would be if Miley and I could just live happily ever after that I didn't really think of how much it could possibly hurt me, how it'd really feel, if we couldn't just live happily ever after.

I'm yanking up my shorts. I hear water trickle, again. Miley clears her throat and tears are now falling down my cheeks as I face the woods, away from her.

"It's—" her voice rasps from behind me with phlegm and she clears her throat, "it's against my religion." Her voice is still just as raspy.

"I…" I choke out a sob and the lump in my throat is painful. I feel physical pain, let alone mental, over this. "S-sorry…"

What am I supposed to say? Love me anyway? It doesn't seem like she even does… she's probably just saying that to let me down easy. Then again, I really didn't think of all the crosses hung around Miley's house… in her room… around her neck…

I slip my shirt over my head, and step forward when I hear wood thudding as Miley climbs onto the dock.

And then I snap.

"Okay, NO!" I wheel around to face Miley. Her features jump in shock. Tears stream down my face, I swipe my leaking nose. "You… you…. You led me on, you asshole! Why the hell else would you give me the looks? And the song?! The flirting, unless you're j-just… Why would you bring me here?! H… How could you…."

I fall to my knees, or more expertly, my shins. Skateboarding taught me to land on them.

The color of Miley's skin blurs from tears with the dark navy all around us as I peek between my fingers. I rarely cry, let alone like this. I'm choking on sobs. It's pathetic. I should get up and run. I don't want Miley to see me like this.

I can't believe I just said all of that… all of those unmentionable moments I meant to keep to myself… I feel like I've committed a crime or something.

"Well?!" I scream, muffled by my hands. "Say something, Miley!" I spit her name with a venom I didn't know I had in me. This is one of those times where I'm a little surprised and ashamed of how I'm acting, kind of like when I beg my mom for new stuff, but I don't stop. In this case, I most literally can't.

"Look," Miley says in a moody huff, and crouches down on one knee. "You're pretty, Lilly, and—"

"Oh, save it," I slap the hand she rests on my shoulder away.

"Let me finish!"

I look up into her with what I know is a scowl planted on my face. She rears back a little, probably at the way my face looks after crying…

"And I do…"

She trails off and her eyes trail after, off my face, beside where I'm kneeling.

"You do what?" I ask in a whisper. My throat actually kind of burns a little from shouting.

"I do…" she swallows, "like you…"

I just glare at her.

"Wow, that feels weird t' say out loud…" She adds, looking down in front of her. "Please don't cry…"

"Were you singing about me?"

"What?"

"The Stone Heart Song?"

"Yes. Even though I think its "Melt My Heart To Stone". You were in my head… you're always in my head." She sighs. Takes a hearty breath. "I didn't expect this to happen. At first I was so confused… I had no idea what was goin' on. You're smart… funny…. athletic… Gorgeous, god, Lilly, I don' even think y' know…" she seems to scoff out a breath, "but I… then it started changing. I've liked boys before. Eventually… 'specially at this age… other feelings kick in, and I realized this ain't goin' away any time soon…"

I smile at Miley's feet. She heaves a sigh. My smile is gone. More bad things to hear.

"But… I need it to, Lilly…" she says softly.

More tears leak from my face. I feel her wipe them away with her thumb, her other fingers cupping my cheek, almost tickling my ear. I reach up and wrap my fingers around her wrist; she stares hard into my eyes.

"You only get one chance at life," I tell her. I see tears fall down her cheeks, and it knocks the wind out of me. I hate this. A lot. "I don't know where we go after it, or what happens if we don't spend it 'right' according to what some book says, but… I do know that while I'm surely gonna be here, I want to be happy. And I want you to be happy. And if being with me would make you happy…"

"No Lilly," she continues in that soft voice. "I can't."

"You can. You just think you can't."

"No, Lilly!" She spits, "Don't you get it? All my life I promised not to give into anything like this! I was born and raised not to! I don't even know how the hell it happened, but I do know, it can'tanymore…"

"Wait… wha—"

"Lilly, we can't be friends anymore."

Miley stands, walks past me.

I have so much more to say! Turn around! Come back!

"Don't do this Miley! You're making a mistake!" I shout after her.

I hear her crying. I hear her choke on sobs in her own voice just like I was moments ago. My face still feels all puffy. The lump still sits in my throat.

My heart is broken. So this is what it's like.

-

Thank you guys SO much for you're amazing words. You're all really encouraging. What I'd really love is to get back you all, but I've been busy, so I'm really sorry.

Hahaha, so I don't think Miley can honestly match up to Adele, but they have a somewhat similar vocal range and a few other things, and I can picture her singing Adele, so I thought, what the hey.

I don't know how these get so angsty. STMH had more in it than I realized until someone said so in a review. This won't have too much. Btw, did anyone find this chapter a little… off? I feel like its so choppy. Do you feel like something's missing? Don't hesitate to share your thoughts.

Anyway. I wanted to ask… would a sex scene ruin this story? I mean, with the way its going, obviously one would come up. Okay, maybe not after this chapter, I mean Miley and Lilly may never talk to each other ever again;) Unless I'm that bad of a writer and the sexual tension isn't killing any of you, like it is me, and I'm writing it… What do you guys think? Peacee.

Oh, P.S.: Sorry for being a whiny prick about my writing sometimes, I get SO self conscious about it. Buuuut I'll stop thinking that way and think of you guys and you're positive reinforcements instead(: Bye!

I don't own "Melt My Heart To Stone" by Adele.