Here you are.

As I began to wake up from a good sleep, I felt a heaviness on my chest. I drowsily peered down and was dazed at what I saw. Miley. The close to mute hitchhiker who I thought I'd never find again after she'd scurried off with my phone and wallet. Here she was, in my house, in my room, in my bed, in my clothes, in my arms, with both my items resting on my nightstand beside my bed. It was almost too good to be true, having my things back I mean, not having Miley in my bed. Though she was really warm...

I wanted to manoeuvre out from underneath her, but I didn't want to wake the knocked out girl up because from the way she acted last night, I knew she was exhausted and needed the sleep. She could hardly focus on dressing herself, so I actually had to do it when she opened the bathroom door with one of my nightshirts on backwards. If I didn't feel so sorry for her hopelessness, I would've laughed.

Miley let out a small noise, a whimper crossed with a moan, and I felt her head turn, her hair brushing my chin and her fluttering eyelashes tickling my neck. She was waking up. Well crap, so much for moving. I shut my eyes, not wanting an awkward encounter between us when she fully awoke and found herself wrapped around me. The weight on my chest lifted and I could feel the light burn of her gaze on my face, heating my cheeks. Ugh, I really hope she doesn't notice.

I waited for Miley to roll off of me now that she was aware of her placement, but what she did instead stunned me. Miley sighed, adjusted herself so her torso wasn't sprawled over mine, and then nestled back into my neck. I didn't know what the hell to do. Maybe she hadn't woken up at all. What other explanation could there be? If I had woken up on top of someone I hardly knew my first objective would be to get off, not make myself comfortable! Geez, this was so weird.

I hurriedly, but gently, unlocked Miley's one arm grip around my waist and then proceeded to turn her over onto her back so she was lying next to me. I eased out from under my blanket quickly, scared that she was conscious that whole time and had wanted me to be her pillow. Her eyebrows furrowed and her arm stretched out to my side of the bed and patted where I'd been laying. I couldn't hold back my smile over how endearing that little charade was. Sweet, but strange. Maybe she was used to having someone at her side in bed.

I didn't dwell on it for long though because Miley shifted over towards me, now resting in the space I slept in. I turned around and flew out of my room in a panicked state, like a little kid would after they'd just smashed their mother's priceless vase. I don't think I've ever shared my bed with anyone aside from Miley before. It just seemed easy with her. Well, it had seemed easy until I found out she liked to snuggle. Now I felt all edgy about it, but not because it was uncomfortable. No, I felt distressed because it was too comfortable. And that's just not right.

I didn't know this woman for crying out loud! Of course I'd be perplexed about enjoying a night in bed with her. A nonsexual night in bed, I mean. The thought of not knowing her linked to another matter in my head and I came to the conclusion that Miley owed me. Big time. I think it's only fair for her to enlighten me with a few of her reasons for hitchhiking as repayment to me for lending her my... everything. Yeah, that way I would know her a little.

I got myself a bowl of Froot Loops once I entered my kitchen, ignoring the house phone that still lay on the tiled floor. The back had been smashed off and the battery was disconnected, but no one aside from my mom and Sarah, my best friend, called me. They could live a day without me, I'm sure. I needed to get this Miley business out of the way. She better wake up soon or I'm going to-

"G'morning," Miley's voice, still heavy with sleep rung out and I faced her with my mouth over stacked with my cereal, the milk leaking from one corner of my mouth and dribbling down my chin as I tried to smile with puffer fish cheeks. Miley chuckled, the sound deep and enriching. It was a nice thing to hear at this early hour, very easy on the ears. "How attractive," she commented, now next to me on the sofa. She sunk into the black cushions, smiling at me as I wiped my face and swallowed my teeth rotting food.

"How'd you sleep?" Moving on from my bad eating habits...

"Like a baby." A spaced out look adorned Miley's face for a moment, and even as laughter coming from the TV tempted me to glance away, my eyes didn't budge. There was something about her. The elegancy of her face, the untamed, wild aura she exerted, the immense beauty she bled, it all just... sucked me in. She stopped peering through me and placed a hand on my leg, freeing me mentally. "Thanks so much for letting me stay here, Lilly. I really don't deserve this kind of treatment."

"Nonsense! Miley you came to my house in the pouring rain just to return my stuff, letting you stay the night was the least I could do. You probably even caught a cold from being out there for so long!" Miley didn't seem to know what to say now and begun to scan the room, taking in my unruly domain. Blue walls, close to green, a moderately sized TV sitting on a black cabinet, which contained DVD's, an armchair facing the front door, a couch facing the TV and then two hall ways. The one behind the armchair led to the kitchen and then the other behind the couch branched off into my room, the gym room, and the bathroom. Yeah, it wasn't a big house, but it was... home.

"This is a nice place you have, Lilly. What do you do to afford it?" she asked, striking up conversation, which I knew was meant to lure me away from interrogating her about her current drifting. I wasn't that easy to distract!

"Well I don't have a job or anything, I kind of just... live off the money Mom gives me. I go up to her house sometimes to help her figure out some fashion trends for younger generations so it's not like I'm a total bludger."

"So your mom's a fashion designer?"

"Yep. I'm not all that into it, but I like to give an outsiders opinion. I guess the love for clothes doesn't run through all the Truscott's..."

"Whoa! Hold up! Truscott. As in Heather Truscott?"

"Yeah?"

"Sweet niblets! Your mother has practically designed half of my wardrobe!" Miley exclaimed, a shocked spark in her gaze.

"You and thousands of others..." I scoped Miley's current daggy attire. Her loose-fitting, faded jeans and light blue jacket were creased after they'd dried in my car and even shaking them for a good five minutes hadn't straightened them out. They didn't appear to be any of Mom's productions. "No offense, Miley, but someone carrying no money and hitchhiking to Malibu on a highway near Denver doesn't seem like the type of person with enough wealth to survive let alone buy my mom's overpriced clothes." Miley fiddled with her jacket's zipper, not responding, but I could see the displeased pout of her lips. "It's okay to tell me how you ended up in this mess. I can keep a secret," I vowed. Her eyes then scrutinised mine, the dullness replaced with a serious mist. She didn't want what she was about to say to be repeated.

"Promise not to tell a soul?"

"I promise." She closed her eyes, preparing herself. I was scared that the keen beats of my heart were so loud in my ears that I'd miss the secret she was about to entrust me with.

"I'm Hannah Montana."

No way.

You know what to do. SO DO IT.