This is pretty new to me. I've never posted a one-shot before or a SWAC story, but I wrote this over the summer and decided I'd post it-so, here goes nothing. Please be kind!
Disclaimer: I don't own Sonny With A Chance.
Chad With An Apology
~SPOV~
I was in the parking lot when it happened. My baby, my faithful car, died. The engine wouldn't start, no matter how many times I tried. The worst part? My cell died earlier today. True, that was because I'd forgotten to charge it last night, but at the moment it seemed like everything that could die on me would. I sank to the curb next to my poor baby and put my head in my hands. And then, it got worse.
"Munroe."
Great, now here's a walking reminder that everything can die on me—like my last relationship, for example. Why couldn't someone else have passed by? After last week's nasty breakup, he was the last person I wanted to see. And I couldn't imagine he'd want to see me either. "Cooper." I didn't even lift my head to acknowledge him.
"Dylan Cooper, actually."
Stupid Chad and his stupid two last names. "Whatever. What do you want anyway?"
"Your car won't start."
"Wonderful observation, Mr. Dylan Cooper." Yes, I was being kind of a jerk to him, but honestly, he couldn't expect anything else—he was the one that dumped me.
"Now you're getting the hang of it," Chad said. I looked up at him blankly, which backfired on me when all I could see was his stupid sparkly blue eyes and his stupid perfect hair. I was NOT supposed to be admiring him; I was supposed to be subtly giving him the message that he wasn't making any sense. Getting the hang of what? Sarcasm? Please, I've always been good at that. At least he was smart enough to realize he wasn't making any sense, because he attempted to elaborate. "The last name thing…because you called me…never mind. It was stupid anyway."
Good, he was getting flustered. That's what he deserved. You can't just walk up to your ex-as-of-lately-girlfriend and expect her to fall at your feet, even if you ARE Chad Dylan Cooper! But since I didn't want him to think I was bitter—and I wasn't…okay, well maybe a little bit, but he didn't need to know that—I didn't say any of that. "What are you doing here anyway? You don't even park in the studio lot—the Falls has their own garage."
"I was running errands." I wouldn't have believed him (Chad doesn't do errands), but he had a huge white pastry box in his hands that looked like it came from the bakery across the street. "And now," he continued, "I'm giving you a lift home. Come on."
That's how desperate I was. I accepted a ride from Chad. But, at the very least, I could be snarky about it. "No limo today?" I asked as he led me to his sleek black convertible, the one the guys had been drooling over before the Tween Choice Awards.
Chad mistook my snarkiness for friendliness and smiled at me. "Nah, it's hard to believe, but I drive myself every once in a while." And then he opened the door for me before walking around the car and letting himself in, reminding me that he could be a gentleman if he tried.
Like I'd fall for that.
"To your apartment, right?"
"Yeah." This conversation obviously wasn't going anywhere. I was glad to see it die.
Chad, again, didn't pick up on my thoughts. He reached over and turned on the radio, then frowned when he heard Taylor Swift. He switched to what was supposed to be a rock station, but within seconds, T Swift was back again. He was about to change it again, his face two seconds away from total frustration, when he caught me looking. "Oh, sorry. I'll leave it. Girl music." He said those two words, two things guys normally like—girls and music—as if they disgusted him.
"It's fine. Change it. I'm not a big Taylor fan."
"Cause she dated that Jonas guy, right? And you're a jealous fangirl?"
Well, he knew how to charm a girl. See? I am good at sarcasm. "Um, no. I'm just not a big fan of her music. It's nothing personal."
Suddenly, he seemed to remember something and he regarded me suspiciously out of the corner of his eyes. I wondered if he'd just realized we weren't on good times. But nope, that wasn't it. "Wait, you sing, right?"
"How do you know that?" I'd never told him that, and I'd only sang for an audience once, though granted, it was recorded and broadcast on television… "Oh my gosh, you do watch So Random!" The jerk. He'd refused to watch it even when we were dating (though he did watch the episode where he guest starred multiple times, always stopping before he kissed the pig—which, coincidentally, was and still is my favorite part), and NOW he starts watching it?
"No! But the Randoms think you're pretty good."
"Really? What'd they say?" I left off 'and why were they talking to you?', since he was being nice.
"Well, that week that your song debuted on So Random, you made the cover of Tween Weekly, remember? Anyway, I should have made the cover since that was the week that I debuted a brand new outfit on the red carpet that consisted of clothing and shoes designed just for me and shipped in from Italy. It still made the issue—a two-page spread devoted solely to yours truly—but not the cover. Anyway, Tawni gloated at lunch about how you 'totally deserved it'." (He actually said that last part with air quotes, which was kind of dangerous considering he was driving.) "And praise from Tawni, who is so conceited she only talks about herself—" (Sometimes I wonder if Chad's for real.) "—is…well…it's still not as good as the CDC Seal of Approval." (See what I mean? I could just hear the capital letters.) He switched off the radio. "So, sing. Let's see if you did deserve the cover."
Whoa, wait, what? "I am not singing for you. There is no way—Fine. I'll sing a couple bars." Did I mention that Chad has a really intense stare? Plus, I wanted to get out of the car alive and I doubted he was above holding hostages.
And that's how I ended up singing "Me, Myself, and Time" for Chad. And weirdly enough, while I was singing I stopped thinking about the bad things about Chad, like the fact that he could be a hypocrite and he was self-centered and he loved Mackenzie Falls way too much. I started remembering the things I had liked about him, which wasn't too hard considering I was still head-over-heels for him even though last week's events forced me to push him out of my mind for the sake of my sanity. It probably helped that he didn't say a word while I was singing. He's always nicer when he's not talking.
"Not bad, Munroe. Way better than Taylor Swift."
"Thanks, Chad. That means a lot." And I wasn't even being sarcastic.
"Sure thing. You even get the CDC Seal of Approval." I half-expected him to pull out a gold seal embossed with his name and stick it on my shirt, but he didn't. He just smiled at me some more as he parked his car in front of my apartment. I looked up and saw the "Chad is a fool for Sonny" billboard; it was peeling at the edges but there wasn't any graffiti on it or anything. Surprisingly, I was kind of happy about that.
That's when I realized I had to get out of the car. Sentimental thoughts about our old relationship? I wasn't sure how much longer I would last before I said something to him that I would regret. "Well, thanks for the ride."
Before I could even take off my seatbelt, he was opening my car door. The boy was fast. He helped me out of the car and then did something I hadn't expected—he reached into the backseat and pushed the white pastry box in my hands.
"It's chocolate," he said, looking kind of bashful. "Your favorite."
Stupid Chad was right—chocolate is my favorite. I opened the box. It was a giant, round cake decorated like the sun with a message piped on in frosting.
Sonny,
Sorry I was a jerk.
Love, Chad
I liked the "Love" part more than I wanted to admit—and the fact that he signed it Chad, not CDC or TV's Chad Dylan Cooper. But most of all, I liked that it was just for me. It wasn't an autographed picture of himself (and good, because I swear I have a desk drawer full of those), it was something he picked out just for me. And he even had the decency to admit that he was a jerk.
"Oh, Chad," I said. But when I looked up, he was gone and I was crying.
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