Between an internship that I had NO CLUE I was getting, longer hours at work, and trying to write my own music, I must say that to those of you who wish to work for/in the music industry...be prepared for it to rob your life. I spent all of June writing then deleting this last chapter. Finally I found a happy medium. It's ending bed fluff. I bring up some point from the previous chapters, so in case anyone forgot. Hope this satisfies.

We are lying still next to each other on the bed. Oliver has one arm around me above my head. He tangles his fingers in my blonde hair subconsciously.

"Prom was an adventure." I admit. "I can tell why it's your favorite memory." My eyes close as I invasion Oliver and I kissing in the ocean.

"You are my favorite memory." His reply is deep and soft. "You were crazy enough go along with me and save my sanity." Oliver adds. He bends his head down to my level "...And sorry about the dress." He blushes.

"Don't be. I'm not sorry about you jacket." I say firmly. "You deserved it."

"Are we gonna start this argument, again?" His brown eyes roll. I cover up a little smirk. Nit picking at pointless matters is our specialty. Always has been. Always will be.

"Nah. I'm in no mood to bicker." I turn away in bed, shifting my weight one side.

Silence fills the room after my sudden action. Thoughts flutter about in my mind; the reason I couldn't face Oliver anymore. I gather every image and feeling I have of him. They bring such joy, such happiness to me, yet uncertainty is still looming. Why can't I shake it?

"You ok, Lilly-pop?" I feel Oliver staring at my back in a confused manner. His tone makes me wonder if he thinks that I am sore with him for what he said; because of how I acted. "You wanna get some rest?"

I'm staring off straight ahead, debating on whether or not to answer. Maybe I can sleep away my worries. No, that never works. Everyone is taught not to run away from the troubles. Right now, I have something eating away at my heart. I love this man with ever fiber of my being. He will do anything for me. Oliver will go to the ends of the Earth and then some just to be with me; just to see me smile and hear me laugh. I have it all too well in life when I shouldn't. The themed thought of the night races: I don't deserve him. I don't deserve this.

There is movement on the mattress. Oliver turns on his side. He supports himself up with one arm. I feel a warm hand rub my shoulder. His fingers make me melt like magic. "There's something you're not telling me. There's something else bugging you." I guess we truly can read each other.

Oliver waits for a few seconds to see if I will response. When I don't, he takes matters into his own hands...literally. His arms reach out and gently roll me backwards so that I'm laying flat.

"Lilly..." His voice is surprisingly calm. "What's got you troubled?"

Giving in to his power, I breathe out deeply and very carefully open my eyes. I see loving, brown eyes, wide with concern hovering above me. Oh how I hate that Oliver can get me to do anything with that face! I am trapped with no escape. I really shouldn't say anything...

So I slowly stretch out my left hand instead. It slightly twitches beyond my control. "This..." I crack through a whisper.

"Wha-What about it?" Oliver tenses. "You're...you're not...you're not having second thoughts, are you? You were fine at dinner."

Now I am scaring him. He is petrified and thinking the worst. Bringing any of this up is a mistake I am mentally kicking myself for making. I look down and fiddle with my finger, specifically what is around it. As I do so, my eyes shut and I take a sharp, shaky breath. "O-Oliver..."

He leans in closer to listen to what I have to say. I feel the heat from his body. Breaking down can begin.

Salty liquid burns against my eye lids. I crack them open and let a tear drop slip out of one. My chapped lips go to mouth one word. A simple, three letter word that I have been asking all night. That word that is causing all this emotion.

I can't get half of a syllable out before Oliver's touch causes me to stop. That's the affect he has on me. He puts a hand to my face and strokes it softly, wiping away the tear. "Don't..." He warns. "If you do, I will, too."

"Oliver, I need to know." I feel terrible for what I am doing to him, but I have to ask.

"Lilly-pop," He begins.

"For my own sake." I add.

"Lills, I just spent the whole night answering that question."

"Humor me, Ollie."

"But Lilly-"

"Please, Ollie-pop." Now I'm begging quietly, using my pair of pleading blue gems to seal the deal.

I expect a frustrated sigh, but I don't hear one. Instead, he lies on his back and pulls me over to him. We find ourselves tangled in the same position we started in earlier. There is a strong beat pounding in my ear. Oliver's hands rub my back. I'm starting to forget why I left this spot in the first place.

"You love listening to my heart, don't you?" His question vibrates through the both of us.

"Mmm..." I nod and burry my head further in his chest. This is comparable to a trained dog in Pavlov's experiment. They drool at the sound of a bell, while I helplessly press myself as close as possible the second I hear this internal organ's soothing rhythm. Same basic idea; All senses fail, and I'm not in control of my own actions. My addiction to Oliver is a powerful force.

"Then why don't you listen to you own?"

I lift up off of Oliver's upper body. "What?"

Oliver props up as I send a confused look. "All this time you have been asking me why. Why did I do this with you, why I did that for you. I've given you a reason in return every time."

"You have..." I answer carefully. I'm not sure where Oliver is going with this explanation.

"All those came from the heart, Lilly-pop. My heart." He covers the spot on his chest with his hand. "I don't have to stop and think why I chose you all these years, or why I want you now."

"Ollie..." His name just slips out of my mouth. "I-I, I just..." I stutter. This is all too much for me. "Sometimes I wanna hear it. I need to hear you say it."

"You worry too much, babe." Oliver says as he tucks some hair strands behind my ear. His hand traces down the side of my face, cupping it at the end. I'm hopelessly sucked in with one glance at his eyes. "Don't spend your days wondering why. Just listen to your heart and you'll know."

"But..." I bite lip.

Oliver slouches back in bed and lowers me down beside him. We turn to face each other, our heads touching. "One day, an innocent, blonde-haired girl reached over and grabbed my hand, introducing my stomach to butterflies." He starts the reminiscing process once more. "Ever since then, that little girl has done so much for me. She taught me not to fear even the smallest things. She gave me strength, both physically and mentally, when I needed it the most. This girl even made a promise that I would always have her, which she keeps to this day."

Oliver's eyes melt through mine. "She's the best friend a dork like me could ever ask for. I don't need a reason why. She's enough." His bangs tickle my neck as he whispers softly in my ear. "You're enough."

It seem like it takes Oliver ages to pull away. Chills flush over me. I have a weak spot on my neck that is begging for lips to tend to it. "Oliver..." I breathe out.

I feel a hand run down the entire length of my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps. "And this..." Oliver caresses my hand and turns the sparkling piece of jewelry (only hours old) back and forth on my finger. He smiles up at me with that dorky grin he has had all is life. The one I remember falling for at age five. "This is just the icing on the cake. The sprinkle on the donut."

"The sprinkle on the donut?" I do my best not to laugh at such a sweet moment. When Oliver's involved, however, it's too hard to resist. "Where'd you come up with that one?"

"I just made it up." He confesses and shrugs in shoulders. "You always called me donut."

"I don't know how I put up with you all these years." I laugh softy and slap his arm.

"I may not know how, but I know why." He says.

"Enlighten me." I reply.

"The same reason I put that engagement ring on your finger tonight..." Oliver pulls me to him. Hands wrap around my dress while I slip under his shirt. We are pressed so close that our noses touch; our hair in each other's face. "Because I love you..."

Oliver feels me smile through a long, tender kiss. Fingers slowly run themselves through his soft hair. All while loosing ourselves in the moment. To the other's magic. Lost in love.

"I can't wait for you to be my wife." He says with a smile when our kiss is finished.

"Mrs. Oliver Oscar Oken." I sigh happily.

We lay there nuzzling each other's neck and face. Small kisses are exchanged every once in a while. This touch, this feeling. How could I ever question Oliver and his decision? If it's not broke, don't fix it. Leave well enough alone. Sometime I forget these sayings. I really need to learn to count my blessings in life. The biggest one, the best one. My Oliver. My fiancé. My Ollie-pop.

Feelings take over and I start to attack Oliver's neck with kisses. I hear a faint whimper as continue lower and lower. As I reach to press my lips to his collar bone, I get mouth full cotton and quickly pull away.

"What is this still doing on!?" I scold, placing my hands on my hips.

Oliver chuckles at my reaction. "I'm sorry?" His good looks are not going to get him out of this one.

"If I'm going to be you wife, Ollie-pop, we have to have some give and take here." I explain.

"You are giving me an ultimatum?" He raises an eye brow.

"Well, more like a condition." I reply. "When I'm Mrs. Oken, you gotta sleep shirtless."

"Oh yeah?" Oliver replies smug. "You think I need some-"

"Practice? Yes! You need plenty of it!" I do my signature cut off and literally rip the shirt from his sleeves. There is such force that notice tears in the fabric as I fling it behind me. A semi stunned pair of eyes meet my lustful ones.

"Ok, that's the third shirt you have ruined by doing that!" Oliver indicates with his fingers. "Seriously, Lills, honey. I think you have a problem."

"Do I?" I ask slyly, rubbing and tracing ever inch of exposed skin on Ollie-pop's body. Breathing hitches as I do my work. His eyes are on my hands as I draw circles on his chest. I'm waiting for his heart to burst from his ribcage.

"Uh, um, on sec- on second thought." Oliver swallows loudly. "You're...you're just fine. Besides, I can buy a new one." I poke him hard in the stomach and shoot dagger eyes. "Ok, ok!" He holds up his hands in defense. "I won't buy anymore shirts."

My tease works like a charm every time. A smile beams as I flop down on Oliver. He lets out a grunt at the sudden weight.

"Easy!" He tells me. "And what about me? What if I have a condition for you?"

I roll my eyes as his whining and sigh. "Ok. What's you're condition, Ollie-pop?

"Less talky and more kissy-pop." He winks at me suggestively.

"How did we go from sharing crayons to swapping spit?" I ask blatantly.

"Who cares?" Oliver wraps his limbs around me, trapping me tight. "You're mine now and forever." I kiss his nose and forehead. He sends a "that's all I get?" look. Giggling, I capture his lips as his hands explore.

We cuddle and neck with each other long into the night. It takes us hours to tire, but when we do, I claim my rightful spot. Finally, I can get sleep. Oliver's heart plays its natural rhythm and I begin dozing.

"Oliver?" I mutter muffled against his skin.

"Huh?" His eyes are already closed, hands just barely stroking my hair.

"Thank-"

Before I can finish, I hear his breathing regulate and a faint snore escape. This is how I will end each night for the rest of my life. I couldn't ask for a better way. I just smile and huddle closer. "Thank you." I whisper and drift off to sleep.

I think this is a nice closure to all Lilly and Oliver have been through in this story. You're thoughts and comments are appreciated. In the end, they both got what they wanted...and so did most of you who commented about the battle of Oliver's shirt *cough EMILY cough* Still working on a few fics. With my busy schedule, I'll try to update them as soon as I can. Thanks to all who read. One last comment: Happy 18th Birthday to Mitchel Musso! :)

Marissa