A/N: This is my first multi-chap. story so please bear with me as I work two jobs and am a college student. This story is also based off of the movie, "When Harry Met Sally" which is basically the greatest romantic comedy ever. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I will try to update as frequently as I can.

2004, Sonny POV:

I sit waiting in my yellow bug with the contents of my life strapped to the roof. Somehow, due to my inability to turn down a friend, I managed to land myself a partner in my road trip to Los Angeles. Said partner is currently busy sucking my best friend's face while I sit patiently waiting, observing the disgusting encounter in my side rearview mirror. Growing impatient, I clear my throat so as to make my presence known to the oblivious lovebirds.

With much reluctance they separate.

"Oh," my friend Lucy says as if only just now noticing me, "Chad, this is Sonny Munroe. Sonny, this is Chad Dylan Cooper." She annunciates each of his three names slowly and with importance as if she is a journalist who just thought of the most fitting name for her article.

We shake hands briefly and exchange hello's as he drags his belongings to the rear end of my car.

"Trunk's open," I shout unnecessarily back to the tall, handsome blond who is already loading his things in the car.

"I'll miss you so much," Lucy says as they once again become entangled in each other.

He shakes his head. "Oh, not as much as I'll miss you."

"Promise you'll call me?" she asks, giving him her best puppy dog face.

He puts his index finger to her nose and I feel a sudden urge to gag. "I'll call you the minute I get there."

She giggles and the sucking of faces commences once more.

An agonizing several moments pass before I lay my hand on the horn. I watch with pleasure as the two jump apart at the sudden shrill noise.

I offer an innocent smile. "Oops, sorry."

Blondie sends me a glare, plants a few more kisses on Lucy, and shuffles around to the passenger side of the car. He slams the door behind him as he lowers himself in and takes no care in tossing a few more bags in the back seat.

"So," I begin, trying to make friendly conversation, "It's a thirty-one hour trip from Wisconsin to California and if we switch shifts every three hours-"

I am interrupted by the infamous face sucker. "So you're Sonny."

Glancing over at him, confused by his sudden interruption I say, "Yes. And you're Chad, Lucy's boyfriend."

He puts his feet up on the dashboard and sinks farther into the seat, placing his hands behind his golden head of hair. "Yep, that's me. By the way if you're expecting to give me your life story as a way of passing the time, I'm not interested."

I scoff at his rudeness. He may be attractive but his personality surely isn't.

"Actually, not to burst your bubble, I don't have much of a life story. Nothing's really happened to me yet, which is why I'm moving to L.A. to become an actress." I inform him.

From my seat behind the wheel I can see that his eyes are closed as if he intends to nap, yet his mouth opens proving otherwise.

"You're giving me your life story without even realizing it and I'm already bored." He sits up suddenly, taking me by surprise. "What if, you don't become this famous star you're dreaming of being-I'm assuming that's why you're moving to L.A., to accomplish more than you ever have here in lovely Wisconsin-and you wind up dying old and alone, a washed up celeb that never made it big? What if you become the creepy cat lady no one notices until three weeks later when you start to smell?"

I gape at him. Only fifteen minutes in and it's already been a long trip.

"Who's to say that's going to happen to me?" I ask. "The same thing could very well happen to you, creep."

He merely laughs at my remark and smiles a brilliant smile. "That will never happen to me. You obviously don't know who you're speaking to."

"Well," I say, my voice laced with sarcasm, "Please do me the honor of enlightening me."

He turns to me and says in all seriousness, "Chad Dylan Cooper, future actor and heart throb of showbiz."

I roll my eyes. "You come up with that all yourself?"

"No need to be mean just because you don't have three first names," he says before slumping back down into his earlier position.

"We've known each other barely twenty minutes and already you've insulted me several times," I chastise him. "It takes a sick kind of person to talk about someone dying and smelling up the place one minute and then give himself three first names the next."

He shrugs. "Anyone who wants to make it in show business needs a dark side."

"Dark side? Why would you need a dark side?" I question.

Chad brushes his hair to the side. "Well, obviously, it's because the media loves a good celebrity with a dark side. Another reason you're going to die alone," he states, crossing his arms behind his head while reclining the seat. "You clearly don't have one."

I scoff for the second time in twenty minutes.

"For your information, I do, in fact have a dark side." I say confidently, squaring my shoulders as I scan the highway before us.

I hear him snort from the passenger seat. He soon breaks into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"What?" I demand, annoyed.

He fingers away a single tear. "I'm sorry, it's just, you can't possibly have a dark side."

I spare a side glare his direction. "And how would you know whether or not I have a dark side?" I prompt.

He sits up once more, seriousness becoming him. He begins listing things off on his fingers. "Well, for starters, your name is Sonny and you drive a bright yellow bug. You're the epitome of happiness and sunshine," he states. "Whenever I get a new movie, I skip to the last scene. That way if I die, at least I know how it ends. That, Sonshine, is a dark side."

I roll my eyes at his stupidity. "Okay, so I'm a happy person and you know what, there's nothing wrong with that. I like being happy," I say, gripping the steering wheel tighter and turning my focus back to the expanse of highway in front of me.

A few minutes of silence pass and I begin to think he's finally giving up on the whole dark side spiel when he says, "I mean, don't you ever think about death?"

"Oh my gosh," I moan. "Will you let the dark side crap go, please?"

He puts his hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay. You're just an unnaturally happy person that doesn't ever think about death. Or has a dark side."

The temptation to argue otherwise is hanging like a piece of bacon at the end of a treadmill in front of a jogging fat kid's face, yet I opt to stay silent. Silence seems to be the better option. Future-Mister-Heart-Throb loses interest in our previous conversation. I take the time to enjoy the scenery passing by in quick glances and imagine my future in Los Angeles as an actress.

Hours later, we've swapped positions and I gaze out the window at the miles of trees lining the highway. My forehead bounces back from its spot against the window with every dip or bump we drive over.

"So," his voice trails over to me from the driver's side, "you want to be an actress, right? Of course if you want to be an actress you've had to of seen the classics like Gone with the Wind and Casablanca."

I lift my head from the window to stare at him. Somehow I find it hard to believe that someone this, interesting, could have possibly sat through any of those movies. He comes across as more of a pointless-explosions-and-one-liners-movies kind of guy.

"You know, I find it very hard to believe that you've actually seen any of those movies," I say simply, turning my face back toward the window.

"Any actor who wants to be the greatest actor of their generation must watch the greats like Humphrey Bogart or Clark Gable." He states matter-of-factly.

I'm willing to bite. "Okay, yes I've seen them. What's your point?"

He lifts a hand from the wheel to point his index finger at the ceiling as a way of speaking with his hands. "Ultimate question: Humphrey Bogart or that other guy she gets on the plane with?"

"Oh that's easy, the other guy." I say, crossing my arms confidently.

He slams his hands against the wheel and exclaims, "What?! No! No! Why would you want to be in a passionless marriage?"

I square my shoulders and sit higher up in my seat. "Well, I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life in Casablanca. She would so regret marrying the guy who runs a bar for a living. He even flat out tells her in the movie that she will regret it!" I point out to him as I lift a hand from my crossed arms to gesture I'm right. "That's why she gets on the plane at the end of the movie."

Chad rapidly shakes his head back and forth in denial. "No, Humphrey Bogart puts her on the plane because he doesn't want her to stay. He wants a better life for her."

We begin to pull into a small highway-side diner in the middle of nowhere. Chad cuts the ignition after managing to park my small yellow bug a tad bit crooked in a lone parking spot.

"I'm only saying," I tell him across the hood of my car as we exit, "that between the two I would choose the other guy."

Chad shuts the door and makes his way to the diner's entrance. He reaches for the door and says, a smirk dancing across his features, "No, I understand."

I give him a questioning look. Sarcasm, seeping from my voice, I say, "Oh, you understand now."

He shrugs as we enter the restaurant. "You just haven't had great sex yet."

His comment floors me. No one, in my entire twenty-two years on the planet has ever had the gall to call out the activities of my sex life.

I stand gaping at him in the middle of the diner. Angrily, I point my finger at him. "It just so happens, that I have had very great sex."

Immediately, I regret my outburst. I now hold the attention of each of the few patrons in the diner. My face downcast, I shuffle over to where Chad has seated himself. He doesn't even bother glancing up from the menu as I take my seat across from him.

"So," he begins, still not looking up from his menu, "who?"

I quirk an eyebrow up at him as I reach for a menu. "Who what?"

He snaps his menu abruptly shut. "Who have you had this great sex with?"

I slap my menu down against the table and glare into his cobalt blue eyes. Lucy never mentioned how dazzling they were. But that does nothing to change the fact that he has embarrassed me for the second time tonight and I'm ready to kick him in the balls.

"Why would I tell you that?" I sneer.

"Well," he drags out the word, "you just announced the fact that it happened to the whole restaurant so I didn't think it was a big deal."

We hold each other's gaze for several moments longer. He's challenging me, he doesn't believe that this happy ray of sunshine could have ever been doing something promiscuous under the sheets of some man's bed. Well, bring it on Future-Greatest-Actor-of-our-Generation.

"Fine," I say, crossing my arms as I have given up arguing with this overgrown child. "Stu. His name was Stu."

He stares at me for several seconds, almost as if he is in disbelief, before saying, "No. Stu as in Stewart? No, you did not have great sex with Stewart."

"I did too."

Chad shakes his head at me and folds his hands across the table. Leaning in a little, he says, "No. A 'Stewart' can do your math homework for you. If you need a colonoscopy, Dr. 'Stewart' can help you with that, but pumpin' and dumpin' is not Stewart's thing."

I gasp at his vulgar mouth and lean across the table to glare. "What on Earth are you talking about? We had great sex together."

He shrugs. "I'm sorry, it's in the name." His voice raises an octave to a much more feminine tone. "Oh, do it to me Stewart. Love me, Big Stewart. Ride me, Stewart. It just doesn't work."

The waitress chooses this moment to join us. I notice she gives Chad an admiring look and roll my eyes. If only his personality matched the beauty of his face.

"What can I get for you two?" She asks us, all the while staring at him.

Chad, who I can easily guess is devilishly charming, lays it down like butter on bread. "Oh, well what would you have? You know what, surprise me." He winks at the tall dark skinned brunette, who melts under his captivating gaze.

She takes his menu and reluctantly turns to me for my order. "And what'll you have, honey?"

"I'll just take a number two, please." I hand her my menu and catch a glimpse of her nametag. "Thank you, Donna-Bo-Bonna."

Donna merely accepts my menu hesitantly and sends me a look of pure bewilderment. When she walks away, Chad is giving me the same look.

"What?" I ask him, taking a sip off the water she brought us before taking our orders.

"I was right; you've never had sex." He states, while he nonchalantly reaches for his glass and takes a swig.

"And how would you know that, oh wise one?"

He quirks an eyebrow at me as if I should know the answer. "Well, for starters, most mature adults don't rhyme random people's names like a child."

I throw my hands up at his ridiculous generalization. "What's wrong with being silly and having fun? I'm going to L.A. because I want to be a comedic actress and do silly things for a living!"

Chad merely crosses his arms in response. We sit in silence for a few moments, staring one another down. He breaks the silence first.

"So, Sonshine, why did you and Stewart break up?"

I narrow my eyes at his assumption and respond with, "What makes you think we broke up?"

"Well," he begins as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, "if you were still together, you wouldn't be here with me, you'd be off with Stewart the sex god."

"I am not going to tell you whether or not we broke up."

He cocks a perfectly shaped eyebrow at my response.

I cave. "Okay, so yeah, we did break up. And if you insist on knowing the reason it's because he had no sense of humor and I occasionally did impersonations. "

Chad eyes me questioningly. "Impersonations? He dumped you because of impersonations."

I slap my hands down on the table. "I dumped him because he didn't like my impersonations. I'd impersonate teachers, celebrities, political figures. Everyone told me I was really good at it. Of course he never cared for it, but when he made fun of my impersonation of Barbra Walters, that was where I drew the line."

"I'm sorry, you broke up with him because of Barbra Walters?"

I nod confidently. "She's only like, my best impersonation ever."

He shakes his head as our plates are placed in front of us. "I'll just take your word for it."

After we finish our road-side restaurant quality food, I am pulling bills from my wallet to leave a tip when I catch sight of Chad staring at me in my peripheral vision.

I gingerly wipe my face with a napkin, yet he continues to stare.

"What?" I hiss.

"You know, for being a weird impersonating, comedy freak, you're actually kind of pretty." He states, his eyes not leaving my face.

My face instantly grows hot and I avert my eyes back to my wallet.

"Um, thank you, I think."

We both exit our booth and begin making our way back to my bug. It will be my turn to drive. Maybe he'll sleep the rest of the way to and I can have peace. One could only be so lucky.

"You know," he says as he opens the door to the passenger side, "Lucy never mentioned that you were attractive."

I duck into the driver's side and jam the key in the ignition. "Maybe that's because most girls don't want to tell their boyfriends all about how pretty their friend, true or not, is."

"All I'm saying is that, from an onlookers perspective, you are an attractive woman." He places his hands behind his head and reclines the seat.

"Would you stop that?" I yell at him, smacking him in the process.

"Fine, I'll put it back up, seat Nazi." He reclines the chair back to its earlier position.

"No, hitting on me. Lucy is my friend and your girlfriend."

He chuckles in a rather annoying manner. Frankly anything this man does is annoying. "Oh Sonny, silly little name-rhyming Sonny. I wasn't hitting on you. I was merely stating a fact. You're the one who chose to take it out of context."

I heave an annoyed sigh. "Whatever. Just keep your thoughts to yourself. I'd like for us to leave this awful road trip as friends." If that's possible, I think silently to myself.

He reclines his seat once more and rests his feet on my dashboard. We are definitely not going to be friends.

"Sure, sure. Friends." He murmurs before drifting off into sleep.

Hours later, he is awake and playing games on a flip phone. My eyes are focused solely on the road and ignoring the annoying blond next to me.

"You realize we can never be friends." Chad says, breaking the long silence spanning between us.

"Okay, I'll bite." I respond with an eye roll. "And why would that be, Chad?"

"What I'm saying," he looks up from his phone finally, "is that men and women can never be friends because the sex part always gets in the way."

I roll my eyes yet again. That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.

"That has got to be the most absurd thing I have ever heard."

"No, really. It's an unspoken law of the sexes. They just aren't meant to be friends." He states matter-of-factly as though he is giving a speech to a class.

"There is no unspoken law. I have friends who are guys and we've never had any issue with 'the sex part' getting in the way." I say confidently as I have debunked his theory.

"Are they gay?"

"No!" I shout at him. Then in a more deflated tone when I realize one actually is gay, I utter, "Okay, well, only one is, but that's not my point!"

"Look," Chad says, using his hands in his speaking, "you don't actually have all these man friends with no sex involved. You only think you do."

"Oh, so you're saying that I'm sleeping with all of my men friends without my knowledge? Because that makes perfect sense, Chad." I let the sarcasm drip from my voice, letting my annoyance express itself freely.

"No, you're missing the point, Chucklehead. All these men you're supposedly friends with, they all want to have sex with you." He crosses his arms and leans back as if he has won this argument.

I gasp, letting my mouth hang agape for a few moments in shock at what he has just said. My guy friends don't all want to have sex with me! That's outrageous.

"How would you know that, master of the sexes?"

"Well, for starters, I'm a guy, so I know how they think. And second, no man, with the exception of gay men, can be friends with a woman he finds attractive. All he wants to do is have sex with her."

"So, let me see if I have this correct." I spare a glance at him and he nods confidently, with a stupid smirk plastered across his face. "You're saying that a man can't be friends with a woman he finds attractive because he only wants to sleep with her."

I receive a short nod and a "Yes" as confirmation.

"What if a man is friends with an unattractive woman?"

He ponders the question briefly and shakes his head. "No, he would want to do her too."

"This is ridiculous. What if she doesn't want to have sex with him? Ever think of that one?"

He shrugs. "Well, that's just it then. The whole sex thing is already out there so the friendship is doomed. Hence, men and women can never be friends. End of story."

"Well, then I guess we won't be friends."

"Yeah," he agrees quietly, "I guess not."

"It's too bad," I glance at him and catch his eyes. "You were the only person I knew in Los Angeles."

Thirty-one hours since I was locked in a car with a self-absorbed man with the theories of a Neanderthal, I find myself pulling up to a crappy looking apartment complex on the outskirts of Los Angeles.

I merely watch as Chad hops out of the car and goes around back to fetch his belongings. Once he slams the trunk shut I exit the vehicle myself to send him off as pleasantly as I can manage.

"Well," I stick out my hand, "It was nice knowing you for the thirty-one hour period we spent together."

He shakes it briefly with a bag tucked under his arm. "Yeah, have a nice life, Sonny."

I nod and place my hands on my hips. "You too, Chad."

He turns and begins to trudge up the stairs of the scary dirty apartment complex while I return to my bug. I pull back out onto the street and smile at the thought that I never have to see his handsome face again.