A/n: I'm sorry to those of you who forgot your childhood friend or if you were the one forgotten, I know what that's like and it really sucks when you walk past them in the hallway and they see right through you.

Lol… I've never been drunk before so sorry if my writing isn't realistic.

Vamoosing Hearts

Chapter 4

Oh god. I dreaded getting to this part of the story. But I can't leave any big events out. Because we're being honest here. Well, being honest… and considering I have never had an alcoholic drink before Saturday night… yeah, you could say I was smashed. Aha… but remember… I'm not proud of this.

Around one was when the last of us were leaving. Thankfully, Nick didn't drink that much, knowing he'd have to drive home. And I'll let you know right now that that was the first and last time I ever drink like that… before I'm 21.

"Niiick, oh my god, my dad's gonna kiiiiiill me if I go home like this…" I ran my hand through my hair and laughed at nothing. Nick looked over to me and smirked then shook his head.

"Miley, he'll probably kill me for bringing you home like this," he said and groaned. "Can you call or text him and tell him you're staying at friend's or something?"

My mind was in a blur and I just nodded and mumbled something, I don't know what.

"But I'm nooot staying at a friend's… so wheeeere am I staying?" I slurred and my head started to hurt. Oh the glory of what was going to come next.

"My house." He stated and my insides suddenly twisted. I could feel myself beginning to get lightheaded so I shifted uncomfortably.

"Jesus," I muttered and ran my hand through my hair. "Are we almost there?" I groaned desperately. I felt like I swallowed a brick, not only that but it felt like someone threw one at my head.

"Yeah, just a second." But I didn't have a second… I didn't even have a millisecond once he took that sharp turn onto our road.

Now I'm going to be blunt because I don't like thinking about this humiliating, mortifying moment, let alone talk about it.

I puked in his car. All over my shoes. And all over his floor. He was angry. But he didn't show it that much… at the moment. He helped me into his house and up to his private bathroom.

I spent a good fifty minutes with my head in the toilet and a towel that acted as a pillow on the tiled floor.

He held my hair back and brought me a glass of water and sat on the bathroom floor with me for nearly an hour. And for those fifty minutes that he took care of me it was like that little ten year old Nick was back, dragging me out of his backyard away from the rain storm.

When I was done throwing up the contents of my stomach Nick handed me a new toothbrush that I was happy to use. He left me alone in the bathroom as I cleaned myself up and I was still a little… blehh. I walked back into his room and he was lying on his bed with his eyes closed.

He opened them as I collapsed next to him. I know it was weird for me to just get comfortable in his room, but remember that I was still half drunk. And keep in mind that a week had gone by. We'd spent a lot of time together. Nothing noteworthy happened (which is why I skipped it), but we did talk and got to know each other.

"Why'd you do all that?" I mumbled. He turned only his head and I waited for an answer.

"Because…" he didn't finish. He just stared at me. He turned onto his side; his body was facing me completely. He was only an inch away from me now and I could feel his body heat rolling off of him in waves. His mouth was only a fraction of an inch from mine. My stomach felt like I ate live goldfish and I was thankful that I was still inebriated so that I wasn't completely freaking out.

I was breathing so wildly that my chest was hitting his with each inhale. His face inched closer and I stared at him with eyes wide open, wondering when he was going to stop.

"Kissing isn't in the deal," I murmured.

His eyes lifted from my mouth and he smirked. "Care to renegotiate?"

I attempted to answer but only air hissed out of my throat.

"Breathe, Miley," he instructed lowly.

I took a deep breath and then…nothing.

I stared into his eyes as they looked into mine. His right hand came to rest on my neck and he sighed, clenching his jaw and appearing conflicted. Whatever he was fighting on the inside must have given up quickly because he tilted my head back and ran his lips over my jaw.

"I think we're going to have fun for the next three weeks, don't you?" He breathed against my neck.

"Yes."

I can't believe I'm telling you guys this.

"How far are you willing to go, Miley? To be popular?" His hand was sliding down my shoulders, landing on my ass.

"W-what do you mean?" He tsked and placed a soft kiss on my jaw. Wow, this is so embarrassing for you guys to be reading.

I gripped onto his shirt, which pulled his body even closer to mine. And…holy shit…it felt so good. He was sucking on my neck and I think it was single handedly the sexiest thing I've ever encountered. His hand was still roaming and it hit the hem of my dress, where he began to lift it slightly and settled it over my ass. And then his hand was gripping and kneading the soft flesh there as he grinded himself into me once.

My fingers froze, wrapped around the soft fabric of his shirt. His body was so welcoming, conforming to mine immediately and molding into me. His hand trailed down and slipped around the back of my thigh, his fingers curling underneath my knee and pulling it up to wrap around his waist.

I'm in shock. I've dreamed of this for years…

I opened my mouth to speak and suddenly his lips were on mine, running hotly across my own, and his soft mouth pliable and forceful. He slid his tongue into my mouth. I was gone. I had combusted into a million pieces and was just obliterated shards of stardust all over his bed.

"How far, Miley?" He manages to growl out. "What will you let me do to you?" For the love of God… this is so awkward right now.

"I'll let you do anything," I whimpered.

"That's a bad idea," he grunted out. "What if I'm a bad person? What if I want to hurt you? Is it worth it?" His hands were under my shirt on my stomach and I opened my eyes in their lust-fueled haze to see his face.

"You're not. You won't." I was shaking my head to clear my thoughts but the fire was too hot, distracting me from what is right or wrong.

Our lips met again and he moved both hands to my hair; pulling roughly and I mirrored his actions with my own, raking my fingers through his curly locks. He hummed a little at the contact, and I couldn't concentrate because his fingers were roughly wrapped in my own hair and working overtime until it looked like a perfect replica of a bird's nest.

We were moving against each other, my leg sliding and his hips rolling, our mouths wet and warm, tongues intermingling. I want to die like this.

Suddenly he pulled back and a dark gleam appeared in his eyes. I was struggling to breathe and my eyes closed so that I could gather my composure. His hands dropped from my hair and he shifted back a little, signaling for me to move my leg off him.

"Sorry." He told me and I opened my eyes to look at him. He sighed and ran his thumb over my swollen lower lip before turning over and getting off the bed. I looked at him confused.

"Where are you going?" I questioned and he looked at his door then back at me.

"Gonna sleep on the couch."

"No, no. You, you… take your bed. I'll sleep on the couch," I mumbled softly, exhaustion finally hitting me.

"Not necessary… goodnight." I heard him say before the clicking of a door opening and closing.

It was… weird. I mean I wasn't uncomfortable. I was very comfortable. I just didn't think it would escalate into that.

And this was where trouble began. I was officially attached to Nick and feeling like I did three years ago.

But I don't wanna start babbling about stuff you won't understand… so let's go backwards about three years.

I was fifteen years old and my boyfriend was over. His name doesn't matter so we'll just call him No Name. No Name and I were together for about 7 months and we were semi-serious. It was a Sunday night and I was home alone. I was home alone a lot before we moved back to my home town. So I called No Name up and asked if he wanted to come over. He, of course, said yes. He only lived a few houses down the road so he didn't need a ride. He just walked.

Jesus, what was with me and hooking up with my neighbors?

I was sitting in my room and turned when I heard a knocking on my glass, French doors. No Name liked the idea of sneaking into my room through my balcony. You see, there was a big oak tree in our front yard and I had a balcony, so he would climb the tree and come through my room like that.

I got up from my desk and unlocked the door. No Name greeted me with a kiss and I smiled into it. Life was really perfect at that moment. I had a great boyfriend and great friends… it's too bad I didn't know losing them would be so easy.

No Name and I decided to just watch a movie. But watching a movie led to cuddling and cuddling led to kissing and kissing led to making out and before I knew it I was taking his clothes off for him and he was taking my clothes off and so taking our clothes off led to sex.

And you know the fact that he had a condom in his pocket made me think he came over to my house planning it. But I didn't realize that until the next day.

It wasn't romantic.

It wasn't fun.

It wasn't special.

And it wasn't pleasurable.

It was uncomfortable and awkward and weird.

And it was painful. Physically and emotionally painful.

So as we lay there awkwardly in my bed, with just our underwear on, I opened my big mouth that ruins everything.

"I love you," I whispered, turning my head to him. When you tell someone you love them, you're completely throwing yourself out there. A whole new level of vulnerability is exposed. You're taking a chance because it takes a lot of guts to say that to someone, especially when you're only fifteen.

To this day I still have no idea why I told him that. Because in all honesty I didn't love him. I never did and I never will.

But I could already feel the tears falling from my eyes when I didn't get a response.

"Do you love me?" That took a lot of guts. By now I felt like I was gonna throw up. I already felt disgusting as it was.

He turned to me and looked into my eyes. I waited. Crying. And he blinked once and said it.

"No. I have to go," he mumbled quickly and got up, putting the rest of his clothes on. It felt like someone kicked me in the stomach and then slapped me across the face a few times.

I cried myself to sleep that night. And then I missed a whole week of school because depression took over me. I came back and talked to no one. Eventually my friends got tired of trying to talk to me because it was like talking to a rock. So for the rest of my sophomore year I had no one. Junior year was pretty lonely, too.

Those were the darkest years I have ever experienced. And yet I was alone I didn't think I was alone. I didn't think so because I still had my family. But it wasn't until recently when I realized how lonely I was.

So when my dad suggested moving I was stoked. I was ready to start new. Too bad I turned socially awkward.

But now that we got that detour out of the way… where was I?

Oh yes. So now that Nick and I had made out, I was officially pulled in. Before I was just looking to be friends, though a romantic relationship would have been a big bonus. But when he just left like that after apologizing (for what? I didn't know what because it was amazing), that feeling I got when No Name left came back. But I didn't start crying. I just laid there in his bed having crucial flashbacks until I fell asleep.

The next day was brutal. I had a hangover, but luckily I wasn't throwing up because I took care of that last night. I pretty much had the headache from hell and my whole body ached.

I woke up and it took me a minute to recall the events of the night before. Then it took me another minute to take in my surroundings. But when I realized I was in Nick's bed in Nick's room I was utterly amazed.

I got up slowly to oberve.

His walls were dark blue and there were drawings and paintings scattered all over the place. There were some movie and musician posters, but only like three… everything else that was hanging up was a charcoal drawing or a painting. I mean there was no empty space on the walls. Some work was even overlapping other work. His desk was covered in paper and utensils. And every piece of work had his signature in the right hand corner.

And that was when I realized I had apparently told the Dali of our generation to color inside the fucking lines.

A/n: if you wondering who Dali is… Salvador Dali was a great artist ;D

Q: Do you like art? What kind?

For readers of Better In Time… I have written three different epilogues but I don't know which one you guys would prefer. One takes place a few months later (around the Send It On filming and Tybee Island) the next one takes place in 2011, around now, and the last one takes place a few years from now. Which one would you want to read?