Okay here's the last chapter of Soundtrack To My Heart. God I actually FINISHED something!! I can't wait to write out my next stories, hopefully you guys like them.

Well, here it is.

I do not own Hannah Montana or the song recited in this chapter or throughout this now completed story!

Eight – Into Your Arms

"I'm falling in love,

But it's falling apart

I need to find my way back to the start…"

I held the CD in the thin, opaque red case in my hands. I was in the hallway standing in front of a particular locker, but not my own. I took a shaky breath. Why was I doing this, again?

Oh yeah. Because things couldn't get any worse than this, and now was my chance.

Things were horrid. My life became a tunnel of ice, I liked to think. Even though Miley and I still shared classes, I haven't looked her in the face for the past three weeks. I felt cold and nervous and like I was always on the spot, but I would gaze into the floor or at my notebook and everything around me and in me seemed frozen and cold, like ice. I didn't even think about texting Miley, I didn't want to call her, and I surely didn't want meet up with her and talk it all out.

Because when we finally do that, I don't want to have to feel the huge pit of sadness and get all depressed when she actually says she doesn't feel the same way, but we'll always be friends. I've known that for the entire time, but I don't think I can bring myself to hear it from her mouth. So, I've been ignoring her and she hasn't made much haste to contact me. I guess she was grossed out.

I'm so scared to hear her say we can only be friends because I'll never see Miley as just a friend ever again. She opened my eyes, she made me understand everything. When I see a married couple, I now know what they feel for each other, and when I watch a movie and the two main characters that fell in love with one another are naked in bed in the light of morning, I know what went into last night. I'll see Miley as a friend, but then so, so much more.

Each and everyday since the summertime, every time I closed my eyes, I thought about the kiss with Miley. And when I thought about that, I thought about when she gave me CPR, with my lips so sensitive to hers, and both times the lip-to-lip contact was bigger than my body. It was bigger than my mind or inner organs that like to freak out whenever Miley's around, it was bigger than anything in me. It felt more like that's right where I was supposed to be, as though I could only be complete if I had Miley's lips on mine.

And now that I've been realizing that, it scares me. I was meant to be with Miley? With a girl? This entire time? And how can I feel this way when she doesn't? Why am I being put through this? I'm so scared, I actually cried about it one night last week, because what am I supposed to learn from this?

I know I marvel over her looks constantly, since, shit, she's like the perfect girl, but sometimes I catch myself thinking I would still feel this way even if she didn't have that face or those legs or those eyes or any of it. When she talks or sings, the sound of her voice can put me to sleep or bring me to tears or make me laugh and always make me smile. When somebody trips in the hall and she giggles but rushes over to help them up, my heart fleets at dangerous speeds. When I see her singing onstage in the blonde wig, watch her put her heart and soul into her performance, I get the same feeling because it's all so beautiful. Miley Stewart is a beautiful person; on the inside, she's equally as beautiful as the outside.

I think I can honestly say I've fallen in love with her. It's not just a crush anymore. It's not just liking, or infatuation. I love her, and I can imagine growing old with her, and I can imagine putting my lips on hers even when were eighty years old and every day in between and still feel like lightning is striking my lips and my skin and my veins and my stomach and most of all, my heart.

I think about this while my eyes burn through the CD. I began shaking; I watched my hands tremble, then the red square.

I was wrong. It can get worse than this; the two of us ignoring each other. If I put this mixtape in her locker, therefore leading to my confession explaining that CD, instead of ignoring me out of disgust, she won't just be ignoring me anymore. She could possibly be erased from my life. She'll be even more horrified and scared and incredulous when I reveal the depth of my feelings to her. And if she's not, what if she's angry I lied to her? That I loved her and kept it a secret all year? What if she can never trust me again?

Either way, I fucked everything up. I should never have kissed her. I should never have let her know. What did I do?

BRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGGGG!

Doors began flying open, smacking into the wall. Kids were cheering, shouting "FREEDOM!" since it was the last day of school, and I quickly shoved the CD into one of the slits of the yellow locker and began to walk away, but then I realized I shouldn't have done that and wheeled back around.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, god dammit, shit, shit shit… STUPID!"

"Uh… are you okay, Lilly?"

"No, god dammit, I'm not fucking okay! I'm the stupidest asshole on the face of the earth and I just fucked up my whole entire life! Ugh, why?! Why am I allowed to decide things for myself?! Why am I such a moron?!!"

I head butted the locker I was trying to open and then sprang back and blinked a few hard times.

"You—you're not a moron, but um… do you like… need something?"

Wait… who have I been talking to?

I turned my head, slowly, terrified.

Miley.

I glanced down at her lime green flip flops up her stonewash jean-clad legs, up her purple halter top and to her stiffened features, as though she were a photographer of wildlife working with some beastly animal, trying not to make any sudden movements.

Oh my god.

I spun around on my heels and began to walk briskly out of the school, my heart pounding in my throat again, but it was singing and sobbing at the same time because I loved that girl, I really did, but she didn't feel the same way and then the tears came and somehow Oliver was standing before me outside at the bottom of the steps and I ran right into his baby blue polo and dug my face into his shoulder, sobbing and sniffing and it all came out.

-

"God, Lil, where is your kitchen?" Oliver's voice rang into the den.

It's pathetic, but I'm in the exact same clothes sitting in the exact same spot, in the exact same position, with the exact same brand of ice cream in my lap with the exact same channel on TV as I was the day after Miley got all pissy with me at the last Hannah concert I've been to.

Except, this time it's worse. It's all worse. Possibly the worst.

Because Miley and I haven't talked since the night of the Spring Fling and it's now the third day of summer and shit, I can barely function.

"It's in my stomach," I sounded like a zombie.

This is more ridiculous than ever.

I watched 50 Cent travel further into his mansion, not noticing how quiet Oliver got.

When he plopped down beside me on the couch, I should have jumped. I didn't.

"Lilly, come on, just cheer up…"

I stared wordlessly at the TV screen.

"I know, I know—"

"No, seriously, I can't stand this anymore! Lils, you're like—like, dead, or something! You know what? I'm gonna go talk to her for you. Yeah, that's it."

He stood up but I grabbed his shirt and yanked him right back down. "Are you trying to earn a slap in the face?"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?! God, it's a stupid little girl crush, can't you be over it by now?"

The room got silent. His words stung and frightened me a little bit, part because of how they made me realize that I looked even more pathetic to a third eye out of my own, part because it's about a girl, and part because it wasn't just a crush.

But it frightened me because I had to tell him that.

"Lilly?"

"No… Oliver, it's not just a 'stupid little girl crush'…"

"What is it then? I know it's at least something for you to be bothering with it in the first place. I wouldn't even've expected you to tell me about it, since it's about a girl and whatnot. Not to mention it's Mi—"

"I'm in love with her."

"…ley….?" Oliver finished, then did an impressive imitation of a fish, and continued with a feeble, "…In… what? What are you on? Lilly, how—how… How would you, like, know?"

"Well…" I began, "I know what a crush feels like, or liking someone, or even loving someone… Like, you know, being comfortable around them no matter what and all, but this… It's like a whole 'nother emotion, you know? Its like, not only can I get it off my mind, but I don't want to. Or… well, I don't know, I can't say it…"

"No, what is it? Just say it, I won't laugh or anything."

Ice skating with Miley, a fond memory of mine, flashes through my mind once again, with how I told her I won't laugh at her when we were on the couch before we left.

And so I take a deep breath and tell Oliver, "When I'm around," I clear my throat, "M-Miley, it's as if nothing else exists and I can't look anywhere but at her or think about anything but her, and even though it's like that all the time anyway, when she's actually there and in front of me and before my eyes, and not just in my head, it's like a dream, and it's like I never want to wake up."

Oliver keeps his eyes on me, but nods. "Wow."

"Yeah… it got pretty bad."

He finally looks away, still bobbing his head. "Yeah, especially if you're gonna say something as corny as that and actually mean it." We chuckle but I can tell he's blown away.

"So… now what are you gonna do?"

Yup, that seems to be the question, and I've been asking myself all month but I seem to have been putting off answering it.

"What do you think I should do?"

"Personally? I think you should grab a video camera, run over to her house right now, tell her what you just told me and press record because the product of all that would make a very nice movie. And profit—OUCH!"

I drop my curled fist back to my lap. "Yeah, no. She doesn't like me back, stupid. That's kind of the whole problem here?"

Oliver turns to me and scoffs, "Is that really—" and then his face suddenly softened and he took a deep breath. "Look, Lilly… I told you before. Miley could never hate you, not even if you told her you like her as more than a friend. No matter how much… I can pretty much guarantee you she'll be cool with it. So, whenever you find the balls—"

"Ovaries"

"—Ovaries to go make your huge revelation, I think you'll be surprised at how big of a deal you're making all this."

I think of the day I looked at Oliver in the lunch table. Of how his chocolate brown eyes just shined. I looked into his eyes then, and I saw them hardened with honesty and... well, to be honest, maturity.

I hugged him. "Thanks, Big O," I mumbled into his shoulder.

"Anytime, T-cott," he mumbled into my hair, "But seriously, think about taking a video camera along—OWW!"

-

Summer has been hot, muggy, and repetitive. Wake up, call Oliver, head to the beach, surf for a couple hours, get tanner than I already am, go home and put on clothes, go skate and get sun burnt, cool off as the sun sets, go home, sleep.

I obviously haven't gathered the 'ovaries' to make any kind of contact with Miley. It's not as much out of fear as it is out of courage any more. What if she changed, and I don't even know? What if when I show up on her doorstep, I don't even recognize her what she's standing before me?

Not that I could ever forget her face. But what if she's not the same?

I want to get it over with, but how can I swim against the current of an entire ocean holding me back?

-

It's July 4th and Oliver told me to come over for a family barbeque while we were walking home from the beach today.

I put on a pair of light-wash jeans with random holes throughout them and a Billabong t-shirt. I straighten my hair completely. I like how the ends are all long and thin.

I grab my long board and coast down the few streets to Ollie's. There are a bunch of cars outside his house, and I can hear the grooves of music pounding from the inside. How much family did his mom invite?

When I walk inside I slap myself in the head for being so stupid.

I was now trapped at Oliver's Fourth of July party—not at a family barbeque, judging by the fact no member of the extended Oken clan was in sight.

"Oliver, what are you trying to pull?" I hissed at him once I got him cornered in the walk-in kitchen cupboard—but when I peered into his face I saw that his features were already transformed by—you guessed it—alcohol.

"I, erm… jush wanted you to have shome fun, Lilsh! Get smashed, let loosh, go nutsh!" He hiccupped and giggled and I growled, released his shirt, and nearly ripped the cupboard door off its hinges.

I was about to return to my board when Oliver's slurred voice rang in my ears, whispering to me through the overlapping chatter of everyone else cramped in the house.

"Yo, Lils!" Someone called from the living room. I turned to see some guys from the skate park, one of them holding out a drink for me.

-

At first I couldn't believe she was touching her lips to mine, let alone on top of me, but she thrust her tongue into my mouth hungrily and honestly I still can't believe this.

She tastes fruity—tropical, like some kind of beach-y drink. With a strong undertow of vodka.

Miley doesn't really drink, so I was pretty surprised to spot her tripping over to me downstairs about twenty minutes ago as I stared her down through my buzzed haze. And vodka's pretty rough, and she's gonna feel it in the morning for sure, and has she ever even drunken anything as Hannah, and god dammit she's setting me on fire.

My lips tingle and burn and it all makes my ears ring as Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi" pulsates up through the springs of the bed and sends small vibrations through my back.

Who ever thought Miley would be a top?

Hell, who ever thought she'd even want to kiss me? Does she like me? Am I the only person whose lips have been on hers tonight?

I understand she's, well, gone, but I know she's going to regret this in the morning. I mean, it's me, Lilly Truscott, her hyperactive, quirky best friend who eats her feelings but balances it all out with her athletic habits. Somewhat.

And, shit, I know what I should do.

Her hands creep up my shirt and her tongue pivots around sloppily in my mouth but it's still all so delicate but sexy at the same time, so Miley, and I know what I should do but I want this now more than ever and I never in my wildest dreams could have guessed it would feel like this.

Because even through my slight haze, every touch is so warm and crisp, and I feel her rub every short, sun-bleached hair on my stomach and arms and neck and her tongue in my mouth is making me begin to lose it.

She hits a certain spot on my waist and I feel myself arch up and my cheeks are set on fire even more when I moan into her mouth, but shit, she doesn't stop.

And unfortunately that action triggers another fond memory of mine—the massage. Just thinking of it makes my hips raise involuntarily into hers.

And just as my conscience is pulling through my heady daze, Miley moans, and it's like nothing I've ever heard out of her or period, and it's in her voice and it's out of pleasure and I'm giving her that pleasure and my conscience sinks right back down.

I find that I want nothing more than to hear her do it again, but when I try to flip her around and activate my plans of attacking her neck with my mouth, she slips her fingers around my wrists and drags my arms above my head and I didn't expect it to be such a turn on but it is and…

I know what I should do.

I'm doing it for her, I'm being a good friend.

It takes a moment, but I break my wrists out of her tightened grip and push her off of me lightly yet firmly, and I say, "We can't."

I get out of the bed and adjust my t-shirt, and when she's silent I look down to see her gazing at me with big, dilated slate colored eyes, and its like she's attempting her puppy dog look but only with her eyes, and then they close and she passes out on the spot.

I sigh and somehow maneuver her onto my back and hold her hips tightly and lean forward so her torso's all up against me and somehow clasp her wrist between my chin and my neck and after a while she's heavy on me but we're out Oliver's front door and into the night and it's better than her regretting what could have just happened.

I tell myself that until we're both situated at her house in her bed (it was closer) and I tell myself to sleep.

-

I wake up to a loud THUD and hear myself croak "Miley?"

"Unhh.. my head…" I hear her response from the ground.

Holy shit, I haven't talked to her in three months and now I'm here and last night is flooding back into my mind and… oh god.

My stomach starts going crazy, clenching in fear and pleasure and a bunch of other emotions, and I break into a cold sweat on the spot.

I peek over the edge of the other side of the bed, and find her with her eyes screwed shut as she's on her back on the floor.

And even after last night and the agonizingly slow three months without her, the butterflies that emerge in my already chaotic stomach don't seem to have a speck of dust on them.

"Hi," she croaks, accent thick and raspy in just one syllable and I almost curse myself for ending what I ended last night.

I can't bring myself to say anything, as she gazes up into my eyes with an unreadable expression. I suddenly feel foreign and strange in her bed and her house and before her.

I tear the blankets from my body, and get out of the bed hastily.

My hand is flinging onto the door when Miley groans, "Oh, god, Lilly, stop stomping! Stay!"

I freeze.

Ugh, it's really pointless to run this time.

Obviously after last night I'm not the only one that has some confessions to make, or some things to be a little embarrassed of.

Okay, a lot embarrassed of.

I crawl back into the bed and look down at her again. She's wincing and has the heel of her palm pressed to her forehead. She stands carefully.

It's quiet. Too quiet.

"Miley?"

I'm greeted with a sudden sharp pain in the arm, and "OW! What the hell was that for!?"

"It was for ignoring me for three months straight, ya big donut! Like, how could you, especially after…"

I could tell Miley felt really awkward about all this. I felt a seething beat of self-loathe rush through me.

"Yeah. We… need to talk." It was getting easier and easier to talk. But I was shaking regardless.

"Yeah. So. What's up?"

"Nothing, just chillin', you?"

"Lilly."

"Ugh, okay, obviously there's no way to make this easy."

"No," she agreed in a bitter tone.

"What, you're actually mad?"

"What do you mean, 'you're actually mad?' Hell yeah I'm actually mad! Lilly, how could you just leave me hangin' like that and not say a word to me all summer?! How do you think I felt about all that?!"

"I have no idea how I should think about whatever's going through your head after what you pulled last night!"

Miley froze, eyes widened in horror. She scrambled off the bed and stood pressing her knees to it, looking anywhere but at me.

"We have to talk about this." My voice was low and shaky.

"Okay, you first," She said hotly, jamming an accusing finger in my face, "Why the hell did you just kiss me and run the night of Spring Fling?! Why did you run away the last day of school? Why have you been acting so different all year? Lilly, just tell me what's going on!"

I jumped up off the bed and stood across her so it was between us. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, I asked you first! I'm not gonna let you dance around this Miley, you need to explain to me why the hell you practically molested me on Oliver's bed last night, and I know you remember it, for the sake of God, I know"

Miley took a shaky breath, and bowed her head. "Lilly," she said, dangerously low, "I was drunk. I was trying to have fun. There's your answer. Happy?"

Even though I knew it wasn't true, I felt my eyes sting with tears.

Even though I knew she was lying, the tears escaped and I sniffed, "No."

She looked up, looking like a deer in headlights, and I quickly wiped my eyes and sniffed again and she said softly, "Lilly, for the last time… just spit it out! Please…"

I looked at her, and for a long second it felt like I was going through some kind of time warp thing where the whole room shrunk behind her and into her and I took one big look at her and her knitted brow and sympathetic eyes and then attached my eyes to the fold of her mussed quilt and inhaled, long and deep.

"Miley, I—"

You started, now finish. Just finish the sentence. Should I say 'love you' or 'like you' or—

"Miley, when you're… when you're in the room," my voice dropped to a whisper, "it's like I can't see or feel or notice anything but you, and it's really, really hard for me to say this but all year I've been thinking about you nonstop and I know it's really weird and wrong and I know you're probably completely grossed out right now, and now that I'm saying this out loud to you it does sound really weird, but I" I took a deep breath, "I…" I tried to think back to the third day of summer when I explained to Oliver how I felt, "When you're in the room, and you're all real and in front of me and I'm not just thinking or wishing for you to be there, it's like I'm dreaming, and it's like…" My eyes trail along the folds of the quilt. "It's like… Well, I'm in love with you."

I wish I could see her face right now, but I'm so scared out of my ass I can't look anywhere but at the bed, and then I almost start crying again because now I know what's left to say and I screw my eyes shut to keep the fresh tears in and just wait. I wait and wait and wait for her to say it as my brow furrows and I see nothing but darkness and it is a dark place—rejection, that is.

"Lilly…" her voice has never sounded softer, and here it comes.

"NO! Save it, save it, just save it!" I screamed, "I don't think I can take hearing it!"

I turned around and made a break for the door, but as I yanked it open it slammed right back shut and I was suddenly pressed back against it and this time when Miley's lips pressed against mine my tears were slipping between our lips making it taste salty.

The kiss was soft and still at first, the opposite of last night's, and it felt like I was floating as Miley led me back onto the bed, and she pushed me down gingerly, and I felt the hot beads of sweat about to break out from beneath my skin and as Miley's lips grew a little more firm they broke out and I was hot all over.

She was… she was kissing me. The girl I've been thinking about nonstop for the past year was kissing me.

I felt nothing but her lips on my and eventually the slickness of every surface of her mouth and how soft and supple the texture of her tongue was as well as strong and rough and gentle it proved to be as it slid passionately against mine.

And that's what it was. Minutes of passion, bouncing from me to her and everywhere in between.

When is she going to start regretting this one? I begin to wonder in sudden spite, and to my utmost horror her lips are pulling away from mine, but my eyes stay closed and I'm relieved as I feel her short breaths hit my mouth.

I press my lips to hers again, and they're still soft and she's still into it, if not more, and I sighed out of pleasure and relief.

I lay there and just feel as she pulls away and rubs the rounding of her lips against mine, and it's like a dam is breaking when she pulls back and does it again, but then she pulls back some more.

"Lilly," she rasps, mutters against my mouth, "When you kiss me, I… well, I guess I understand what you've been going through after all."

Once I hear this, my eyes open, and I find Miley gazing into me with an expression I can't quite classify.

"This," she begins, and reaches over to her night table and pulls out the drawer and I see a familiar red CD case. "Was… the most adorable thing. Ever."

I press my lips to hers again, and she snakes her fingers through my hair and I shudder and she holds my head in place so she can successfully pull away again. I listen to what she has to say with my eyes closed.

"But there's one problem."

My eyes flicker open. "What?!" I gasp. Please don't say it's because we're both girls, please don't say it's because we're both girls, please don't say it's because we're both girls—

She chuckles again. "We can only have one of them as our song," she says against my lips.

'Let me back into

Into your arms…'

"Into Your Arms" – The Maine

End.

-

So… how was it? Too much detail, any ends you feel I should have tied up?

Anyway, thanks again to all of you reviewers. Not sure what I'm doing next but it'll be up within the next month or so.

See ya! :D