A/N: I wasn't lying when I said I'd actually update within the next less than six months! BOO YAH! To answer a question, Lilly actually isn't gay, the only girl she likes/loves is Miley, and no, Miley knows nothing about it.

COUGHeverybodyvoteformileyattheKCAsCOUGH

THINGS ACTUALLY HAPPEN IN THIS CHAPTER. Basically the whole story so far has been building up Miley and Jake's relationship and Lilly discovering her feelings and all so very few specific events have occurred, but at long last, things are finally moving forward. Whoo.

Oh, and thank you SO MUCH to the people who reviewed, I can't believe anyone is still reading this. So really, thank you thank you thank you.

--

"You're a horrible liar, Lilly. And when you want to tell me what's up, I'm here."

Cue nervous inhale. "I will. I promise. Just not right now." Cue shaky exhale. If you haven't noticed, sometimes my life feels like I'm just reading from a script.

"Good" Miley smiles. "Hugs?"

She holds out her arms expectantly and I lean forward, allowing her to wrap them around me and envelop my body in warmth. Cue emotional hug. She buries her head in the crook of my neck, touching the protruding bone with the tip of her nose, which I notice is rather cold.

"You're comfy" she murmurs drowsily.

My hands brush the edge of her spine as I grip tighter. "And you're skinny."

She chuckles good-naturedly and slaps my back lightly but does not let go. I have a hate-love relationship with moments like these. One of her legs, folded, is pushed a good foot between mine and her giggling chest is smushed just below my neck. This causes me to want to shove her back against the couch and ravish her on the spot. My face is also heating up immensely. This makes me want to flee her grasp and never let her touch me again. Neither seems like the most appropriate decision, and so I settle on slightly awkwardly rubbing her back. Hmm…

Miley lets go suddenly and sits bolt right up. "Ow! Lilly!"

"What?!"

"You snapped my bra!"

Hurt is evident upon my face. "Did not!"

"Yes, you did, just now!"

I am quite indignant at the statement of this obvious truth. "How could you say such a thing?"

"I swear, you need your own TV show because-" she scrambles for a pillow from the couch "-you're so-" she succeeds in nabbing one "-full of-" I am petrified "-crap!"

BAM! Sack of goose feathers to face! I quickly grab one of my own and whack her against her side. She cackles rather evilly and smashes her pillow into my stomach and leaps away from the danger zone, heading towards the stairs. I follow with a gleeful grin, chasing her all the way up into her room. I look around wildly. Miley is nowhere to be seen.

I hear the closet door creak. "Hraaahhhh!" A pillow is brought down with full force over the back of my head and I topple forwards, head colliding against the edge of the mattress of her bed.

"Ow!" I yelp, voice dripping with pain.

"Oh god, Lilly, are you okay?" she says, looking completely overly concerned.

I whimper slightly. "Owww…" I touch my head and blink my bleary eyes. "I can't… see" I gasp. "I need…" She nods worriedly, waiting for me to finish my request, "…revenge!" I swiftly bring the pillow I had still been holding to hit her square in the face.

The expression she bore in that split second before her expression became impossible to see was absolutely priceless. There is nothing like the look someone gives you when they figure out he or she has been tricked. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o' and her eyebrows narrowed, her eyes full of comprehension. And now I am scared.

I suddenly feel hard strikes of the soft material rain down upon me mercilessly. I distinctly catch the words 'faker,' 'cheap,' and 'socks' amid a tirade of otherwise inaudible grumbling and outrage from my female companion.

"I was so worried!" Miley laughs once she finally tires of beating me up, relaxing on the bed with her back against the wall. I, too, am winded and thus in no condition to retaliate.

I grin back at her in response.

"Devil child" she spits.

"But you love me for it!"

"Myes I dwoo" she indulges me with a baby voice. She grabs her discarded pillow once again and I sense danger but am far too lazy to avert it. "Luv you shoooo mush I jusht might" she swings her leg over my hips and pins me to her bed "SUFFOCATE YOU!" she yells happily as she pushes the pillow against my mouth so that my head is pressed backwards and I am completely incapable of moving. She enjoys hearing my muffled shrieks for all of twenty seconds as I become aware of our current position. She is straddling me. Her butt is totally squashed against places I do not care to mention. If we were naked, this would be awkward.

She kindly removes the object she had shoved into my mouth and thoughtfully allows me to breathe as I thank my lucky stars that I was already red from lack of oxygen because I am sure I would otherwise have turned a lovely shade of crimson for absolutely no reason.

She smiles at me benignly as if she had not just tried to kill me. "Now, I'd love to smother you alllll through the day, but it's 5:30 and I have to meet Jake at six."

I try not to look like a dog that has been kicked repeatedly and thrown into the rain, which is exactly how I feel, and merely make some kind of affirmative scratching noise with the back of my throat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yup. Yeah, I've got to go meet Oliver soon anyway. We're seeing a movie," I announce, as if it matters.

She extricates herself from my body and we both head downstairs to get our bags. As we head in opposite directions, she shouts "Call me tomorrow!"

I will. Of course.

--

It is Saturday night. I lounge on Miley's bed, throwing a soccer ball up and down while lying on my back. Miley is on her computer, furiously IMing- yeah, you guessed it- Jake, most perfect of all human specimens. I am getting pretty tired of hearing that boy's name. After a flurry of small blooping sounds from the Mac, my brown-haired best friend heaves a sigh heavily laced with frustration. Despite myself, I have to ask.

"What's wrong, Miles?" I try my very best not to sound too hopeful.

"Oh… it's nothing. Just Jake stuff" she says with the tone of voice that suggests the speaker very dearly wants to complain to you but does not want to initiate the conversation. I would indulge her.

"Oh, come on, you know you can tell me anything."

The brunette appears pensive for all of half a second- to complete the act, I feel sure- then swivels her chair around, sits next to me, and continues. "It's just that… I mean, Jake's great, he really is, but" her face begins to gather color "we'll be, you know, uh, making out, and we'll just have to, well, stop because he…. Um, he's very religious and he has to maintain his image, so he has a purity ring… and it's not like I want to go all the way or anything" she adds rather quickly, her face reminiscent of a ripe tomato, "but he gets me all, er, excited and then just…nothing. It makes me…" she does not finish her sentence and instead examines the floral pattern of her comforter as if she has not seen it a thousand times before, not quite succeeding at masking the sheet of red that has taken the place of her face.

I am rather speechless as well. How the fuck was I supposed to respond to my best friend telling me that she's mad because her boyfriend won't touch her?

"So… you're saying you're horny… a lot." Wow. That was unintentionally blunt.

Miley blushes a darker shade of crimson, if possible, and emits some sort of grunt that I assume is supposed to mean yes.

I thought I'd lighten the situation. "Well then, Ms. Stewart, I think I can help you in that department." I place my hand by her naval and, excruciatingly slowly, trailed my fingers downward, waiting for her to brush me away and laugh.

She does not.

I continue, still convinced that any second she will push me away with a heart chuckle. When I am a centimeter away from the waistband of her pajama pants, I look up and try to read her expression. What I see almost, almost stops me, and it is that quick, hasty, not well thought out decision that marks my future, intertwining it with the lives of others. It is her eyes. They have become a dark, dark blue, like a medley of impossibly small chips of ice. It terrifies me. Miley's eyes are always warm, inviting, even, but this evening they are so very cold. So cold they numbed my mind itself, which could only think to continue proceed with what it is doing as I watch her eyes not truly see me and cloud over with something that can only be described as pure, unadulterated lust.

I brush fabric with my hand and still she has not moved. Hesitantly, I dip the edges of my fingertips underneath it and am met with shocking warmth compared to the chill of her eyes. I am excited, nervous, and vaguely aware that I am making a very large mistake. But I could not stop then, for Miley's expression was a perfect map of within- wanton desire, nothing more or less. Without words, she almost seemed to be pleading for this to happen.

And so I float my hand across warm, smooth skin, until I am met with the last obstruction, the last layer of clothing between myself and the only part of Miley that I do not know. Here her breath hitches, and I know she is waiting. I have never been able to deny her.

I push past this final barrier and am forced to realize that Miley is not a little girl anymore, physically or mentally. Neither am I. She had needs and I- I was only fulfilling one of them. This, what was happening right now, it means nothing to her. And I, like the coward I am, shamefully accept that fact as I gently rub her without truly touching her yet. But Miley does not want to be gentle. She moves, for what seems like the first time in hours, so that her back is against the edge of the bed, maneuvering me with her so that I was effectively pinning her there. She shifts downwards and spreads her legs only slightly, but enough that my middle finger is brought to her center.

I discover that she is wet- sopping wet, in fact, so much so that my finger is coated in stickiness. I enter in carefully and immediately she pushed down on me. I attempt to go slowly but she is in no mood for that. She speeds up and the pace and eventually I was doing hardly anything at all; just Miley pressing one, then two of my fingers inside of her She begins to breathe heavily and lean against me, and despite myself I feel a stirring in my lower stomach.

"Shit…. Fuck, fuck, Lilly" she pants and increases her speed once more, coming closer to the edge. I cringe. Miley is usually so sweet that when she curses, it sounds dirty and wrong on her lips.

"Oh, god… fuck!" And with that, she grabs onto the small of my back and rams down hard on my fingers, holding them there and screaming into the crook of my neck. She breathes raggedly and finished with a few, far weaker, thrusts.

When I am sure she is done, I remove my hand and, shame ringing in my ears, walk to my side of the bed, not looking at her once. She leans farther back where she has been resting and exhales shakily. As her breathing returns to normal, she paces quietly to the light switch and flicks it off. She gets under the covers as far as possible to the other side and everything is silent.

I lay, unsure of what to do about the sticky mess on my fingers and doing my best to ignore the still present ache between my legs.

I don't think I have ever felt so used in my life.

-

A/N: Well, that was the first time I have even attempted to write a sort of sex scene and it turns out it's really awkward for me so I kind of suck at it and skirted around using actual words, so sorry about that. Don't expect there to be too much detail, really, because… vaginas are gross. I just don't want to talk about them or their various functions. Okay, once again I'm sorry I'm awkward, and thanks for reading.