A/N: I've been wanting to write a short story, so I decided to write this oneshot. It's in Oliver's POV. Although I'm sure you could figure that out by the second line. Oh, I'm not gonna tell you the pairing. You'll just have to figure that out yourself. You will, though, before the end of course.

You might find this surprising, but I am in love.

Yes, I, Oliver Oken, am in love.

There's a problem though…She has no idea. I'm in love with a girl who thinks of me as nothing more than a silly donut friend.

I've known her for a couple of years. And I've loved her for that same amount of time.

I started a rumor about her saying she ate opossum, but that was only because the second I laid eyes on her, I knew I was in love.

I tried to move on, especially once I became friends with her, figuring it would never work out. She was way too beautiful and I was just a stupid donut.

"Smokin' Oken" I called myself. But I knew the one person I wanted to "take a ride on the Ollie Trolley" never would. She'd only see me as her best guy friend.

I pretended like I was in love with Hannah Montana to hide my feelings for her. But then after two years, I found out that she was Hannah.

Perfect.

Of course I had to play it off; pretend that now I knew Hannah was Miley, I didn't love Hannah anymore.

But that was a lie.

Now that I knew Hannah was Miley, I loved her even more. Well, I loved Miley and Hannah by extension.

Miley has a wonderful voice, which just made her even harder to forget about.

"Hey, what are you doing by yourself on the beach?" I heard a voice ask.

I looked up to see none other than Miss Miley Stewart.

"Just thinking. What are you doing here, Miles?"

"I was taking a walk and I saw you so I decided to stop. Whatcha thinking about?" she asked.

"It's not important," I said too quickly while blushing.

"Ooh, is it a girl?"

"Maybe."

"Okay, who is it?"

"You don't know her."

"Sure. So, who is it?"

"It's nobody."

"C'mon, Oliver; tell me!"

"It's you!" I exclaimed. Crap. I didn't mean to tell her. Now I'm sure she thinks I'm just a weirdo and will hate me for forever.

"Me?" she asked.

"Yes; you. I understand if you are creeped out and wanna leave. I would—"

"How long?"

"How long, what?"

"How long have you been in love with me?"

"I never said I was in love with you."

"No, you didn't, but you are."

"Since the first time I saw you."

"Wow."

"Okay, so if you want to make fun of me—" She cut me off again. But this time she didn't cut me off with words.

She kissed me.

I was stunned, but I quickly responded to the kiss.

We pulled apart, almost out of breath.

"I've loved you for a long time, too, Oliver."