Well, this is how I got the idea for this story. With it being Valentine's Day and everything, I naturally found much of my thoughts absorbed with Miley Cyrus (yes, I'm a guy). Also, my Language Arts teacher gave us each a few of those Sweet Heart candies. You know, the kind that people only have around Valentine's Day and have little love messages on them? Well, after reading a couple of them, with said crush on Miley Cyrus, the two thoughts just kind of combined and the idea for this story popped into my head. Don't ask about what will happen later in the story, because I'm kind of making it up as I go along. Read and review, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned Hannah Montana, then you would be watching this on Disney Channel instead of reading it, wouldn't you?
Hopelessly In Love
What is the one creature man has never been able to tame, contain, or otherwise restrict? Give up? I thought so. Well, unfortunately, I know the answer all too well.
It was Valentine's Day, and you all know what that means. Love was in the air. Cheesy, but true, it was there, not to mention greatly assisted by the glittering red paper hearts suspended from the ceiling. Probably about five times as many couples were had been making out in the hallway as usual. There were extra teachers patrolling halls with the specific intent of breaking the displays up, but there were just too many to keep under control.
I sat at my desk, thoughts swimming through my head like a school of tuna. Why couldn't that be me, kissing someone out in the halls like there was no tomorrow? I definitely wouldn't mind a lecture from Ms. Sullivan about how wrong public displays of affection are if I could just have one kiss from-
She walked into the classroom, and I felt a sensation unlike any other. Fulfillment. Well, partial fulfillment. No, until we could be something more than just friends, I would never feel complete fulfillment. Nevertheless, when she was around me, I felt the gaping hollowness that normally filled my chest when she came to my mind - which was a lot, believe me - partially subside.
She possessed a grace when she walked that not even she knew she had. Oh, but I knew. It was like watching a bird in flight. That didn't keep my eyes away from her face and, er... chest when she was walking towards me and her... ahem, rear when she walked away, but still. It just made those things all the more beautiful.
Speaking of which, I could not begin to describe to you her face. Truly and honestly, I think she might just be an angel. She certainly looked the part, her facial features that I am positive God himself put a great amount of effort into shaping accentuated by the rim of soft, brown hair that framed it. And her eyes were just the right shade of blue. I loved those eyes. It was like looking into two deep pools. And like two deep pools, it was incredibly easy to lose myself in their depths, to dive in and never want to surface again... except that I had to.
"Hey, Oliver," said Miley Stewart, sitting down.
And that voice... her voice is comparable to both an angel and a bird. It's definitely no mistake that she was a singer with a voice like that. Almost nobody knew it, but still, she was. Whenever I heard her talk, a strange mixture of joy, relief, and fear penetrated me.
"Hey, Miley," I replied.
What an irony. She possessed a secret so delicate, so sacred that if anybody besides those she knew she could trust ever found out, the entire country (and a few other countries as well) would be shocked stupid. Nobody would talk about anything else for weeks. Maybe months. Even still, there were those who knew. For example, me.
But what absolutely nobody - except Lilly Truscott, curse her - knew my own secret.
I was hopelessly in love with my best friend.