I don't realize I'm snickering to myself until I find Max staring at me quizzically.

"What?" I snap.

"Nothing."

I never felt more hurt in my life than after what Miley did to me at the creek that night. Miley introduced me to a lot of feelings I never knew existed.

-

"Lilly, what is the matter with you?" my father asks. The breakfast chatter dies out. Everyone looks at me with concerned eyes. It feels like that's the only kind that's been aimed at me for the past two days, and this morning.

"Nothing. It's just my time of the month," I say in a droning voice.

"Time for what?" Lane inquires.

My dad goes back to his pancakes.

"Um, her time, to, um…" Aunt Tiff stutters.

"It's time for me to get new shampoo and conditioner. I try a new one every month and get so used to them, I hate to give them up."

"Oh."

And everyone resumes eating.

Two nights have passed since the Fourth of July, and I've never felt a pain like this. My chest feels clogged and crushed and my eyes constantly sting with tears. It hurts.

It wasn't supposed to go this way…

It's safe to say I haven't heard from Miley. That alone I never expected would drive me so crazy. I remember how a few weeks ago, before we became casual friends, before the feelings really surfaced, I was practically praying for her to show up. Which she did. But, still, waiting killed me.

Now I have no more to wait for; no more texts, or calls, or invitations to hang out. No more of the sound of Miley's voice, no more of the softness of Miley's skin, or the infectious raspiness of her laugh. No more senseless banter. No more happy butterflies or, or...

"I'll be in the shower."

"Lilly, you didn't even finish one pancake."

"I'm not hungry." My skin tingles coolly with everyone's eyes on it as I get up, shove my half-pancake into the trash, and get to the stairs before any tears fall.

-

My hair is wet, and I catch the faint scent of cucumber I think is stuck on me as I flop down on the bed that isn't really mine. I think momentarily how even though it's not my bed, I've spent more sleepless nights on it than the one back home.

God, I hate this. I feel like I'll never get over it. I feel like I didn't get a fair chance.

Stupid Christian upbringing. Well, no, I shouldn't say that. I'm not any kind of prejudice, this whole catastrophe is no reason to change that.

Stupid Miley. She's not even that pretty. And she's stupid. Obviously. She's a stupid tease.

My stomach churns angrily. That wall, I should have paid attention to it. The one I had in me after she was singing that stupid song. Why the hell would she pick up that guitar and sing it when she knew I was on my way over anyway? To make me even more sick and curious and insane?

Miley's just a bad disease. Was a bad disease.

That wall… my body knew I liked Miley before I did, and it knew telling her would be dangerous before I went and did it. Is it like that for everyone? A sixth sense kind of thing?

Whatever. I don't care. Because now my body's telling me Miley's a lost cause and she's not even that great.

And the little voice in the back of my head informs me how all of those are lies but I don't do anything about it.

I look at my phone that lays a few inches from my hip on the bed.

Maybe… maybe Miley and I could still be friends? Maybe she just said that because she was in the heat of the moment.

I should text her. I just… I need to make sure.

Besides, it couldn't get much worse than this.

I open up my contacts but suddenly the phone buzzes in my hand. I see Oliver's name and a picture of a ringing phone on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Lilly, how's it going?" Oliver sounds like he's drooling sunshine compared to my robotic drone.

I sigh. "Not… well.."

"Why? What happened?" You'd think I just told him his dog ran across an expressway, with the way his entire mood just dropped in only his words.

"She… she hates me."

He's silent.

"Lil… I'm so sorry… I—I didn't know… What an idiot, who the hell could hate you?"

"It's not your fault. It's mine."

"Did she really say that? That she hates you?"

"No, she didn't. She just… she actually said she feels the same way. But obviously she doesn't because I'd give up my religion for her… God, I think I'd rather have her hate me than have it be like this."

"Wow. Well, but, you aren't religious…"

"Well, but, I don't care," I mock. "I'd give up anything for her, Ollie."

"Even skating?"

"I pretty much have."

"Surfing?"

"If she wanted."

"Tickets to Radiohead?" Since they're my favorite.

"For free, if she wanted." And I mean it. The talent of Radiohead, as pleasant as it is to my ears, doesn't even chock up to my desire to please that girl.

Which I find horribly pathetic.

"Wow…wow."

"Yeah." I hate the way I sound. But I can't really help it. With how I feel inside, it's almost like I don't have the strength to put on a show like my heart's not broken.

"It was just a crush, Lil… she was the first girl, there'll be others. Probably better. More gorgeous, more fun, smarter…."

"Not religious."

"And not religious."

It's silent, but it's not awkward, because we're both just listening to our own thoughts.

Mine are of his words. It was just a crush. It doesn't sound right.

The familiar lump that's been visiting lately arrives in my throat, as well as its good friend, the stinging in the back of my eyes.

"No, it wasn't…" it comes out very quietly after a few moments. My voice is especially high.

"What?"

"It—it," The lump is practically gagging me, "it wasn't just a crush…"

"Lilly…"

I choke. And sob. Tears prickle and flood my eyes.

"Don't cry," Oliver suddenly grits. Commands.

"What?" It's so out of place, my tears seem to freeze themselves over.

"She's not worth tears, Lilly. How well could you know her in one month? Fucking bitch. She's lucky I don't fly over there and kick her ass myself, or get Amber to do it. No, I'll do it myself. No one plays games with you. Don't cry, you're stronger than that and we both know it."

I sniffle. I dab my cheeks on the quilt beneath me. "Okay… okay."

"Are you gonna be alright?"

"Eventually, yeah."

"I thought so."

We're both silent again. I look around the room and think offhandedly of how Oliver's probably looking around his own room, thousands of miles away and exactly where I want to be.

"I want to go home."

Oliver sighs and suddenly his voice is all growl-y like he's part-bear or something, the way it is when I wake him up sometimes. "You know what? If you ask your mom, she'll probably let you."

"Maybe… There are a few things I could try. Ugh, the past month was a huge waste of my life. I'm gonna ask Amber or Ashley if I can stay with them or something. I'll talk to you later…"

"Alright."

"And Oliver?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, love ya too. Feel better, okay? I really don't want a zombie for a best friend. We live in California for god's sake, you could find a cute girl in an instant. Maybe one that isn't a humongous moron."

I say "Yeah, you're right. Mucho gracias. Bye," but I don't believe him for a second. My heart has had as much as it can take for now.

-

"I don't know, Lilly, I can't bombard Ashley's parents like that… we're staying here until September first, two months is longer than you're thinking."

"They said its fine! You just talked to them! Come on mom, please?"

"…Miley really left for school already?"

"Yes, mom, she really did. Two days ago," I was lying straight through my teeth but obviously I was doing it well.

Mom sighed. "Alright, then. But you're spending at least two more days here and you're spending it with your cousins, aunt, and uncle, not on their couch taking advantage of the television."

"Okay. And look, don't tell any of them I'm only leaving because Miley's not here anymore. Or Max. He'll say something. " Can't have anyone putting two and two together.

"Alright, Lilly…"

I wrapped my arms around my mom and thanked her in a huffy sigh.

I walk away from my mom sitting at the kitchen table and plop onto the sofa in the living room. I think I can last forty-eight more hours in this place. It's like, although Miley's not here, I replay the Fourth of July and the past few weeks in my head constantly to the point where she practically is. My imagination is so strong, it knows her by heart and won't leave her alone.

I can't say I haven't been partially holding my breath for Miley to barge into my aunt and uncle's house and declare her undying love for me… then maybe tackle me onto the couch. My feelings for her aren't going to die in a day, nor will they die in two days. I'm obviously bringing my feelings for her back home with me.

The thing is, I'm not okay with that.

And I don't think I'll ever be until I do something about this.

-

We're the loudest table in the restaurant. It's fancy and expensive and dark and foreign. Well, the menus are, at least.

It's been four days since I've associated with Miley and I don't think I've ever experienced truly missing someone until now.

I liked Miley. A lot. Even when I'm not physically with her. Even though she lives some thousand miles away from where the flight I'm boarding tomorrow afternoon is heading to. And even though I only knew her for a god damn month. One month! Thirty friggin' days!

In fact, if this is what liking someone feels like, I don't think I've ever liked anybody before. I liked her and I've missed her. Will miss her.

I chase my calamari around my gold-foil detailed dish. My brow is convoluted tensely and I don't realize it until I relax my face and head and brain.

I don't plan on telling any of my other friends besides Oliver about Miley. I don't plan on telling them I like girls until I find one worthy enough to chase, that's preferably not religious.

"What're you thinking about?" Brooke asks. Yes, she's eleven, but she's also very intuitive and brainy and stuff.

I sigh. "Y'know. Life."

"What about life?" She asks in a low mutter, with her elbow jutting out on the table and her head resting in her palm. Her hazel eyes, all the kids have hazel or brown eyes except baby Dani, who has blue ones, bore into me.

"About how… well, you always need to expect the unexpected, that's for one thing." She probably doesn't understand. I'm just talking to myself. It feels weird to be confirming these things out loud. Maybe talking to my eleven year old cousin could help.

"How do you do that?"

"Lower your expectations. Be happy with what you get, don't go asking for more." I pop a forkful of buttery angel hair into my mouth.

"Oh."

I turn away from her. No one seemed to have heard our conversation. Our parents are laughing and talking loudly over one another in recalling some old memory, Lane, Max, and Chris are talking about god knows what, Carly and Taylor are arguing, and the babies are smearing their food all over themselves and everything around them in a foot long radius.

"That sounds boring," Brooke says belatedly when I'm halfway through my hugely-portioned dinner.

"No one said life is exciting at every moment."

"But playing it safe isn't always a good thing."

I'm stunned. Floored. Not to be a jerk, but my eleven-year-old cousin contains more wisdom than Amber and Ashley combined. Seriously.

Because she's right. And she actually understands what I'm saying. Somehow.

"That's what I said…." I mutter.

"What? Sorry, I didn't hear."

"Um… I mean, disappointment hurts."

"Why are you so disappointed? Are you having a bad time here or something?" Brooke's brow is knotted in confusing and I just wish I could take my thumb and smooth it out. She doesn't know I'm leaving tomorrow and, of course, she doesn't know about Miley.

"No, no, not at all. I'm disappointed because… well, let's just say I didn't get something I really, really wanted."

"What was it?"

"It doesn't matter, okay?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "Okay…" she agrees slowly.

I look around to find everyone still not looking in our general area at the corner of the table. "But, yeah. Don't forget that."

"I won't…." Brooke looks back to her food with no real expression on her face and I feel a smidge better that I somehow helped her on this strange journey we call life.

-

I can't sleep. I'm a little too busy contemplating my existence.

I realized those reoccurring dreams I've had about Miley could possibly relate to her religion preventing us from being… well, together or something. I could never get my lips to hers in the dreams, like trying to force two opposite ends of a magnet together. Real life, though, is more frustrating and depressing than any of the dreams.

I'm completely wired at how insane that is. How did my subconscious know Miley was unreachable where I never even expected the honest fact?

The sheet I sleep with is threaded between my legs. My pillow lies on my head, pinned between my arm and my ear. I sigh, frustrated. This is purgatory, I swear it is.

ZZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! I stiffen and jolt in my lying position, startled. My phone buzzes more elongated than usually, cutting through the soft silence of 3:23 A.M. I snatch it from my wooden night table, and take a look at the window to see who's head I'm about to verbally tear off.

My eyelids nearly rip themselves open and my heart jumpstarts to life up in my throat.

1 new Text Message from Miley:

'come outside? im done with & sorry for being an idiot..'

I feel like I'm on fire and I begin to sweat and kick the sheet completely off of me.

I want to call her. I want to scream at her, shout at her, I want to yell, hell no I don't want to see you. I'm angry, and clammy, and chilly, and anxious.

And happy. And ecstatic. And satisfied. I knew Fourth of July wasn't the end of Miley and me.

I don't want to scare Miley away, but I don't want to let her off easy. I text her back a 'k' and decide instead of getting all dramatic and badass through text, I'll go outside and make her grovel at my feet. I'm glad she's sorted her feelings out, but I don't think Miley understands what she put me through.

I throw on a tank top, jeans, and flip flops and step as quietly as I can down the hall and staircase. I unlock the sliding door and inch it open to slip through it.

My feet squeak and sift through the damp grass. My toes are soaked with dew. It's humid and I'm greeted with the crickets chirping triply as loud as they were in my room when they were muffled through the walls.

When I see Miley, I explode with a ton of emotions, but somehow I keep a straight face on the outside. My stomach twists in three different layers of anxiety and attraction and delight, my heart instantly palpitates as if I just finished a three mile sprint.

God, I like her. I like her, but she hurt me.

She stands in the grass beside the last lawn light lining the driveway. They're hip high cubes of pale red bricks with human head-sized glass orbs of light on top that the kids aren't allowed to go near, incase they happen to have some ball that could smash them. It illuminates the outlines of the left side of her chestnut hair to glow orange, and it creates an eerie shadow over her eyes and lips.

Miley wears no emotion on her face. She stares at my flip flops and I watch the shadows shrink and grow when she finally looks up. The fiasco my internal organs were moments ago has now subsided. I feel… curious. I'm oddly patient, as I wait for Miley to part her pretty lips and speak with her smoky voice I'm craving to hear.

Her lips form a tight line as she clears her throat. "Hi…" she begins, very shyly.

I move to sit down on the brick surface of the lamp light and actually feel its heat radiating into my lower back. "Hey," I say, crossing my arms.

"Um… I don't know how to say this."

I don't respond. I want to jump and tell her she doesn't have to, she doesn't have to struggle just for little ol' me. And then the other, smarter half of me wishes to make her squirm or hurt just like I did. Do.

She sighs, and her eyes trail over to the grass again. The light hits her square, except her right hip and leg because I'm blocking it. Her eyes glisten. I hope I don't get in trouble for being out here. My mom would be confused if she found Miley when Miley's supposed to be gone, but I already formulated an excuse just in case.

Wait, speaking of gone… I'm going back home tomorrow night.

Shit. Shit.

"I'm leaving tomorrow night," I blurt out suddenly.

My heart hurts. I'm short of breath, in the bad way. Miley's face snaps up suddenly but I really wish it hadn't because the horrified look on her face is so stony yet slightly tweaked in the way that makes it look like she's about to cry.

"You're… you're what?" her voice is soft and on the verge of breaking.

"I'm going back to California."

She cracks into a smile that absolutely bewilders me, and chuckle/sighs through the nose. "Don't joke like that."

I feel like I can't get enough air. It's frightening. I still want to hear what Miley has to say.

"You're not joking…" she concludes.

"No, I'm not." I sound very stern, very dramatic, but I don't mean to.

Her eyes are kind of wide. "Shit… no. Please, can you… I need to… " She raises her arms and waves them frantically. She places them on either side of her head her breathing is quick and shallow.

I just watch her.

"I was wrong," Miley finally says. And drops her arms to her sides, and then crosses them. Her words fill me with this warmth, with this happiness, and how the fuck did my life get so deteriorated so quickly? "About the whole having one life thing. I'm not giving you up… I like you. I've never felt this way before, Lilly… I want to spend the summer together. Well, wanted to spend the summer together…"

What exactly she means by 'spend the summer together' I'm not certain, but I am certain my flight tomorrow will be cancelled one way or another.

And I'm floating on air. She came back to me. Yet, "But you wasted four days of my life," falls out of my mouth anyway.

Her face drops.

"And I think we should go make up for it."

At that, she grins, and I wonder if she knows what I mean by that. What I mean is, I want to do things that don't involve talking about how horrible the past few days without each other were, or talking in general.

Her eyes flicker around my face and she wears a crooked, inquiring grin. For the first time I eye beyond her face and find her smooth chest and shoulders, I swear she's an illusion, I swear she's truly a marble statue to the eye but not the touch. Not that I'm complaining. She's so much warmer than a stupid statue.

Whatever I'm talking about, Miley finally cocks her head and breaks it, chuckling, "Lilly, you put the 'moan' in hormones. How about we just… hang out tomorrow?"

I do chuckle at the joke but I'm sort of upset she doesn't want to spend time together now. I hope I'm not pushing anything on her. I hope this is actually mutual, and she's not just saying things.

Then again, what are we supposed to do at three-o'-clock in the morning? Make out in some wet, muddy grass?

Wow. Making out with Miley. There's a thought. Jesus…

"I just don't want either of us t' get in trouble. I'll call ya in the mornin', alright?"

I watch her. She smiles. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss all that she is, all that she says, all that she thinks about.

"Alright." I can't help but smile back.

I push off the bricks and turn to head back into the house, when suddenly warmth soaks into my upper left arm. Finger tips are pushing into my cheek. Breath is exhaled against the opposite one, and I'm suddenly full to capacity with all these tingly feelings.

Finally, my world pivots and uproars and slams back down as her soft lips press into my cheek. I want to count how long, I'm not sure why, it's just my first instinct, but I'm too distracted by these amazing, pleasurable feelings coursing through me.

"Goodnight," Miley whispers against my cheek, 'night' pronounced somewhat like 'gnat', and I completely forget the seething resentment I have been drowning in for the past three days towards this girl.

"'Night," I somehow get out through a hopeless grin, and Miley turns and treads back to the road, not looking back. She disappears into the darkness and I hear fast, fading footsteps.

I turn to walk back into my house, mind flooded with images of Miley, Miley's name, words spoken in Miley's voice, and I blink and am suddenly in my bed.

But I can't sleep. I'm a little too busy thinking of a blue-eyed brunette with an oddly irresistible southern drawl.

-

I'm really sorry. I am. It's just. School. And life, and stuff, and I'm sooooooo sorry… I'm sorry. Sorry. But, uh, yeah. In my defense, meager defense, mind you, I was going to separate this into two chapters but that would be borderline cruel.

Oh. And I'm really sorry.

Honestly, I have no idea what I'm going to do next. This story seems to go so much more smoothly when I wing it, which I have done with everything but the past two chapters or so.

So. Yeah. Leave your thoughts!

P.S.: sorryyy:(