Entry the seventeenth.
Title: Evade
Author: left_to_leave
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Miley, Jake/Miley
Summary: Miley attempts to deal with the decision she made with Jake, but finds her once-strong character is crumbling before her very eyes.
Author's Notes: This is a companion piece to Fervor. It came to me in a random spurt of inspiration -- it seemed to me to be the natural course of events for the two of them; however, I'm still not completely sold on the ending. Thoughts? Constructive criticism is encouraged and very much appreciated!
Disclaimer: I do not own any Hannah Montana characters and I am not making any profit from this work of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.
She couldn't face him.
Not now. Not ever.
Not after what he had seen. What she had allowed him to see. What she had allowed him to do.
Her arms were jelly, and it took every bit of energy she could muster to merely hold up a pencil and scribble "Miley Stewart" on her history quiz. Even that simple action became a chore -- her name came out jumbled and smudged, resembling "Mildew Stoplight" instead. Any other day, she would have laughed at her misdemeanor, imagining an intersection covered in nondescript green sludge, and taken her eraser to the page to start over.
Today was different, though. Today, she couldn't start over. Not her schoolwork, and not... this. Her life, or whatever it had suddenly become.
She attempted to calm herself down, closing her eyes and just breathing. Closing her eyes did absolutely nothing, she soon found out. When she closed her eyes, all she saw -- all she felt, heard, tasted, smelled -- was him. That face, those hands. She had to shake her head to wake herself up.
Stupidly, she had let this happen. She thought she was ready. She thought she knew what she was doing. She thought it was love.
But sex didn't equal love. I doubt it ever did, she thought.
It seemed like a cruel joke, sex. In the movies, it looked like the perfect end to a perfect love story. She thought she had that perfect love story; now, she just needed the ending.
She got her ending, and it failed her.
-----
Is this happening too fast?, she wondered, fleetingly, as her dress unzipped and came up over her head, and she was exposed to Jake, finally, completely .... She barely had time to think any further: in one swift motion, Jake had her swooped up in his arms and he made a break for his bedroom, the two of them laughing like children, not quite sure what they were getting themselves into, but overly excited to get there.
He laid her gently on the covers, kissing her every place he could reach, letting his hands take their own course. She did the same, wanting to take in and commit to memory everything about him: his shoulders, back, hips, everything. Neither seemed to have any rhythm or rhyme, no clear path or idea, just now, now, now. Here, there, everywhere.
He was on top of her now, looking into her eyes with wild, fiery passion and love and desire and happiness and fear, at last finding some kind of pattern, some kind of groove. She couldn't contain herself, couldn't find any way to express this sudden burst of excitement, pain, surprise and joy. All she could do was emit random squeaks and sounds she couldn't even identify and had never heard herself make.
It was over in a few minutes, and they rolled onto their backs, not sure what to make of this newfound territory, but exhilarated just the same.
-----
It had been several days since The Encounter, as she thought of it in her mind, capitals and all. He didn't call the next day, or the day after. It was agony, not hearing from him. Especially after they'd... she couldn't even think the word anymore. It was never a big deal before. Now, though -- now, it just made her stomach churn and threaten to push her breakfast up and out.
Still, she was having a hard time thinking of anything else.
She stared hard into the blue lines in her notebook, hoping that if she stared hard enough, she would be able to focus all her thoughts and energy into the task at hand.
16. Define and describe the 18th Amendment and its circumstances. When and why was it repealed? Be specific.
She knew this, definitely. It was right there in the forefront of her brain... it was just a matter of pushing through to the information. Okay, US Constitution, eighteenth amendment. Something about... pro-something. Prototype. No, obviously not. Miley, get it together! Focus. Do not think of him.
She sighed, peering around the classroom. Where was he? They had this class together, but he hadn't shown up yet.
Somehow, she found herself moving about her day, like a ghost or a robot, looking and acting vaguely like Miley, but never really there. Her existence had spun around and turned inward, so caught up in her feelings and her mind that her body shifted into autopilot. She meandered around the school in this default mode, finally arriving at math class.
They took this class together too, but he was still nowhere in sight.
She wasn't sure why she was so intent on finding him. She didn't want to see him. She couldn't. She couldn't, knowing that he knew more about her than she had ever intended. Every time she thought about their eventual confrontation, she felt the bile rise just that much more.
But she really wanted to see him. She needed to see him. Maybe it would prove that things were still okay.
The final bell rang at last. Safely inside Jackson's truck and off of school property, she slid her cell phone out of her pocket and checked her text message inbox. Nothing. She dialed voicemail. Nothing.
"What's up, Miles?" her brother asked in his usual, completely oblivious manner.
She sighed, tears pushing at her eyelids, ready to spill. "Nothing," she said. But she wasn't referring to Jackson's question.
-----
She slipped her dress over her head, her skin suddenly soft and sensitive. The zipper caught on a thread and she yanked. She didn't know why -- she had never felt more comfortable and at peace than just minutes ago -- but she wanted to get out. She wanted to be gone, away, light years from this place. Anywhere but here.
His back was to her. He'd pulled his pants back on, but his unclothed back gleamed in the moonlight streaming from the window.
He spoke softly. She had so many thoughts bouncing against her skull, she didn't hear. "What, Jake?" she asked cautiously. She wished he would turn around, look at her.
"What did we do?"
-----
She couldn't bring herself to come downstairs for dinner.
Her father and brother came upstairs periodically to try to coax her down, but to no avail.
"Give her some time," Robbie said quietly as the two padded down the hallway.
"Yeah," Jackson half-heartedly replied. "She'll be back to her old self in no time."
Both knew it wasn't true, but it was nice to believe, if only for a second.
-----
Sleep evaded her for hours. She wondered what he was doing, what he was thinking about. Was he awake, too, heartbroken and listless as she?
The worst of it was, she didn't know why she was feeling this way. She should be happy and fulfilled and grateful and totally and completely in love. But all she felt was alone and hurt and exhausted.
She'd given him everything. She'd bared not only her skin, but her soul -- she'd offered every little piece, and he'd taken it.
She had nothing else, because he had everything.
She rolled to her other side, her skin tingling and feeling sensitive again. That happened once in a while, when she was feeling particularly confused and broken.
No, she realized. That wasn't her skin. Her cell phone was vibrating.
Jake, the screen read.
After days of anticipating his call, wishing to speak with him, wishing to clear the air, wishing she just knew a reason why this whole situation was so much bigger than she'd ever imagined -- she couldn't answer the phone. She wasn't ready.
Then again, she thought she was ready for the biggest step she would ever physically take, and her judgment turned out to be the opposite of what she thought to be true.
"Jake," she croaked out. Her voice had abandoned her.
"Hi, Miley," the familiar voice crackled on the other end.
Neither spoke for a minute.
"Where were you?" she asked, fighting back tears.
"I don't know. I mean... I was sick. Kind of. I don't know," she heard him cough unconvincingly.
Another awkward silence. Her heart pounded violently against her ribcage, shouting but silent, ready to explode with anticipation and dread. At length, he spoke, his tone wavering and each syllable measured and overly controlled.
He cleared his throat nervously. "Is your father aware? Of what we did?"
In any other mindset, she would have scoffed at his attempt at calm, rational professionalism. Subconsciously, she found herself doing the same thing. "No," she said in the same calculated rhythm. "I don't think so, anyway." She didn't know why she was keeping up with this pretense, this body language -- arms crossed, chin up; he couldn't see her.
She heard a sigh from Jake's end. "Oh. Good. I guess. Mine don't either. I don't think."
She had the overwhelming urge to hold his hand. Unable to, she gripped her phone tighter, pressed it closer to her ear.
"Jake." Her voice broke, and along with it, the will keeping her tears back. "Don't you love me?"
"Of course I do, Miley," he replied urgently.
She sat up against the headboard of her bed, trying to gather strength.
"Why didn't you call?"
He didn't answer.
"Jake," she sniffled.
"I was scared. I was scared of what we did. I don't know. I don't really know why... I just... I was scared."
Miley felt a strange sense of relief begin to prickle inside.
"You were?"
"Yeah. I was."
"Me, too."
"Oh." She heard him sigh. It sounded like a good sigh though.
"I thought -- I thought maybe you would leave me. And then you didn't call, and you didn't come to school -- I thought you were gone. For good."
"I almost was," he said candidly in a low voice. "I was gonna convince my parents to move or something. I don't know."
"But you won't? You won't abandon me?"
"I could never go through with it, Miley. You know I couldn't."
She smiled a little.
Author: left_to_leave
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Miley, Jake/Miley
Summary: Miley attempts to deal with the decision she made with Jake, but finds her once-strong character is crumbling before her very eyes.
Author's Notes: This is a companion piece to Fervor. It came to me in a random spurt of inspiration -- it seemed to me to be the natural course of events for the two of them; however, I'm still not completely sold on the ending. Thoughts? Constructive criticism is encouraged and very much appreciated!
Disclaimer: I do not own any Hannah Montana characters and I am not making any profit from this work of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.
She couldn't face him.
Not now. Not ever.
Not after what he had seen. What she had allowed him to see. What she had allowed him to do.
Her arms were jelly, and it took every bit of energy she could muster to merely hold up a pencil and scribble "Miley Stewart" on her history quiz. Even that simple action became a chore -- her name came out jumbled and smudged, resembling "Mildew Stoplight" instead. Any other day, she would have laughed at her misdemeanor, imagining an intersection covered in nondescript green sludge, and taken her eraser to the page to start over.
Today was different, though. Today, she couldn't start over. Not her schoolwork, and not... this. Her life, or whatever it had suddenly become.
She attempted to calm herself down, closing her eyes and just breathing. Closing her eyes did absolutely nothing, she soon found out. When she closed her eyes, all she saw -- all she felt, heard, tasted, smelled -- was him. That face, those hands. She had to shake her head to wake herself up.
Stupidly, she had let this happen. She thought she was ready. She thought she knew what she was doing. She thought it was love.
But sex didn't equal love. I doubt it ever did, she thought.
It seemed like a cruel joke, sex. In the movies, it looked like the perfect end to a perfect love story. She thought she had that perfect love story; now, she just needed the ending.
She got her ending, and it failed her.
-----
Is this happening too fast?, she wondered, fleetingly, as her dress unzipped and came up over her head, and she was exposed to Jake, finally, completely .... She barely had time to think any further: in one swift motion, Jake had her swooped up in his arms and he made a break for his bedroom, the two of them laughing like children, not quite sure what they were getting themselves into, but overly excited to get there.
He laid her gently on the covers, kissing her every place he could reach, letting his hands take their own course. She did the same, wanting to take in and commit to memory everything about him: his shoulders, back, hips, everything. Neither seemed to have any rhythm or rhyme, no clear path or idea, just now, now, now. Here, there, everywhere.
He was on top of her now, looking into her eyes with wild, fiery passion and love and desire and happiness and fear, at last finding some kind of pattern, some kind of groove. She couldn't contain herself, couldn't find any way to express this sudden burst of excitement, pain, surprise and joy. All she could do was emit random squeaks and sounds she couldn't even identify and had never heard herself make.
It was over in a few minutes, and they rolled onto their backs, not sure what to make of this newfound territory, but exhilarated just the same.
-----
It had been several days since The Encounter, as she thought of it in her mind, capitals and all. He didn't call the next day, or the day after. It was agony, not hearing from him. Especially after they'd... she couldn't even think the word anymore. It was never a big deal before. Now, though -- now, it just made her stomach churn and threaten to push her breakfast up and out.
Still, she was having a hard time thinking of anything else.
She stared hard into the blue lines in her notebook, hoping that if she stared hard enough, she would be able to focus all her thoughts and energy into the task at hand.
16. Define and describe the 18th Amendment and its circumstances. When and why was it repealed? Be specific.
She knew this, definitely. It was right there in the forefront of her brain... it was just a matter of pushing through to the information. Okay, US Constitution, eighteenth amendment. Something about... pro-something. Prototype. No, obviously not. Miley, get it together! Focus. Do not think of him.
She sighed, peering around the classroom. Where was he? They had this class together, but he hadn't shown up yet.
Somehow, she found herself moving about her day, like a ghost or a robot, looking and acting vaguely like Miley, but never really there. Her existence had spun around and turned inward, so caught up in her feelings and her mind that her body shifted into autopilot. She meandered around the school in this default mode, finally arriving at math class.
They took this class together too, but he was still nowhere in sight.
She wasn't sure why she was so intent on finding him. She didn't want to see him. She couldn't. She couldn't, knowing that he knew more about her than she had ever intended. Every time she thought about their eventual confrontation, she felt the bile rise just that much more.
But she really wanted to see him. She needed to see him. Maybe it would prove that things were still okay.
The final bell rang at last. Safely inside Jackson's truck and off of school property, she slid her cell phone out of her pocket and checked her text message inbox. Nothing. She dialed voicemail. Nothing.
"What's up, Miles?" her brother asked in his usual, completely oblivious manner.
She sighed, tears pushing at her eyelids, ready to spill. "Nothing," she said. But she wasn't referring to Jackson's question.
-----
She slipped her dress over her head, her skin suddenly soft and sensitive. The zipper caught on a thread and she yanked. She didn't know why -- she had never felt more comfortable and at peace than just minutes ago -- but she wanted to get out. She wanted to be gone, away, light years from this place. Anywhere but here.
His back was to her. He'd pulled his pants back on, but his unclothed back gleamed in the moonlight streaming from the window.
He spoke softly. She had so many thoughts bouncing against her skull, she didn't hear. "What, Jake?" she asked cautiously. She wished he would turn around, look at her.
"What did we do?"
-----
She couldn't bring herself to come downstairs for dinner.
Her father and brother came upstairs periodically to try to coax her down, but to no avail.
"Give her some time," Robbie said quietly as the two padded down the hallway.
"Yeah," Jackson half-heartedly replied. "She'll be back to her old self in no time."
Both knew it wasn't true, but it was nice to believe, if only for a second.
-----
Sleep evaded her for hours. She wondered what he was doing, what he was thinking about. Was he awake, too, heartbroken and listless as she?
The worst of it was, she didn't know why she was feeling this way. She should be happy and fulfilled and grateful and totally and completely in love. But all she felt was alone and hurt and exhausted.
She'd given him everything. She'd bared not only her skin, but her soul -- she'd offered every little piece, and he'd taken it.
She had nothing else, because he had everything.
She rolled to her other side, her skin tingling and feeling sensitive again. That happened once in a while, when she was feeling particularly confused and broken.
No, she realized. That wasn't her skin. Her cell phone was vibrating.
Jake, the screen read.
After days of anticipating his call, wishing to speak with him, wishing to clear the air, wishing she just knew a reason why this whole situation was so much bigger than she'd ever imagined -- she couldn't answer the phone. She wasn't ready.
Then again, she thought she was ready for the biggest step she would ever physically take, and her judgment turned out to be the opposite of what she thought to be true.
"Jake," she croaked out. Her voice had abandoned her.
"Hi, Miley," the familiar voice crackled on the other end.
Neither spoke for a minute.
"Where were you?" she asked, fighting back tears.
"I don't know. I mean... I was sick. Kind of. I don't know," she heard him cough unconvincingly.
Another awkward silence. Her heart pounded violently against her ribcage, shouting but silent, ready to explode with anticipation and dread. At length, he spoke, his tone wavering and each syllable measured and overly controlled.
He cleared his throat nervously. "Is your father aware? Of what we did?"
In any other mindset, she would have scoffed at his attempt at calm, rational professionalism. Subconsciously, she found herself doing the same thing. "No," she said in the same calculated rhythm. "I don't think so, anyway." She didn't know why she was keeping up with this pretense, this body language -- arms crossed, chin up; he couldn't see her.
She heard a sigh from Jake's end. "Oh. Good. I guess. Mine don't either. I don't think."
She had the overwhelming urge to hold his hand. Unable to, she gripped her phone tighter, pressed it closer to her ear.
"Jake." Her voice broke, and along with it, the will keeping her tears back. "Don't you love me?"
"Of course I do, Miley," he replied urgently.
She sat up against the headboard of her bed, trying to gather strength.
"Why didn't you call?"
He didn't answer.
"Jake," she sniffled.
"I was scared. I was scared of what we did. I don't know. I don't really know why... I just... I was scared."
Miley felt a strange sense of relief begin to prickle inside.
"You were?"
"Yeah. I was."
"Me, too."
"Oh." She heard him sigh. It sounded like a good sigh though.
"I thought -- I thought maybe you would leave me. And then you didn't call, and you didn't come to school -- I thought you were gone. For good."
"I almost was," he said candidly in a low voice. "I was gonna convince my parents to move or something. I don't know."
"But you won't? You won't abandon me?"
"I could never go through with it, Miley. You know I couldn't."
She smiled a little.