The next day, Chad is in his dressing room, texting Sonny on his cell phone when someone knocks on the door. He quickly texts Sonny that he has to go and calls, "Come in!" Portlyn walks into the room and closes the door behind her. In her hand is a small video camera.

"What do you want, Portlyn?"

"You, Chad."

"Portlyn, we've talked about this. You know I don't have feelings for you."

"You will." Portlyn turns the video camera on and Sonny's voice fills the room.

"Oh, Chad, don't stop."

"How the hell did you.....?" Chad's heart stops and his breath catches in his throat. This can't be happening, he thinks. "Give me the tape."

"No."

"Portlyn, give me the damn tape!" He lunges towards her, reaching for the video camera, fueled by pure animalistic rage. "Give me the tape!" She laughs and hides it behind her back. He tries for it again, but she ducks out of his reach, still laughing.

"You have to do what I say, Chad, and then your secret won't be revealed."

"Portlyn, don't do this."

"Oh, Chad, you're so pathetic. You actually have feelings for her. It's so sad." Portlyn grins and then skips out the door. Chad watches her go and then lets out a frusturated shout, punching the wall.

Sonny stares at her reflection in the mirror. A girl with bright orange hair, freckles, and a black eye stares back at her. Sonny shakes her head and removes her wig, shaking her own brown locks out. With a sigh, her gaze strays to her phone. She reaches towards it, but then quickly pulls her hand back as if she has been burned. Chad hasn't called or texted her all day. Not once. It's driving her insane. Sure, she knows that he's busy, but he's never gone more than two hours without calling her. Sonny glares at her phone, silently willing it to ring. When it doesn't, she snatches it up and flips it open, checking her messages. Nothing. Sonny resists the urge to slam her phone against the vanity counter and instead, quickly dials Chad's number. The phone goes straight to voice-mail. Tears flood her eyes and she swipes at them fuiously as she puts her phone back down. She hates herself for crying over him, for craving his attention, for loving him. He was Chad Dylan Cooper. He could have any girl on the planet. So why did he choose her? She wasn't anything special. She wasn't beautiful and she laughed too much and she had no idea what she was doing in Hollywood. Suddenly, someone starts knocking on the door of the dressing room. Sonny slides off the make-up chair and walks over to open the door. Chad walks in the room and sweeps Sonny into his arms, kissing her furiously. She pushes him away, but it's the hardest thing she ever had to do.

"What do you want, Chad?"

"You," he breathes and reaches fo her again. She steps back and hurt flashes across his face. "What's wrong?"

"Do you love me?"

"Sonny, we've been over this! You know that I like you."

"That wasn't my question," Sonny replies coldly, crossing her arms. "Get out, Chad."

"Sonny," he starts and then breaks off as her tears start to fall. "Baby, what's wrong?" He pulls her into his arms and this time, she doesn't jerk away.

"I'm not good enough for you," Sonny sobs. "Why did you even choose me? You hate me and I hate you and that's the way things are supposed to be! Now they're just all fucked up!" Sonny buries her head in his chest and screams.

"Sonny, I don't hate you."

"Well, I hate you! I hate you! I...." Chad crashes his lips onto hers, silencing her. Her arms wrap around his neck and he pulls her closer. Just as things are getting heated, though, his cell rings.

"Crap." He pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the caller id. Its Portlyn. Suddenly, Chad remembers the rules she told him earlier.

"Cut off all contact with Sonny Monroe or I will give the tape to every tabloid in town."