Okay, so I know that I told you all that I wanted at least 76 reviews before I added another chapter, but for over a week it has stayed at 74, and I realized that is probably all I am going to get, and it isn't fair to make you guys wait. This time the number will be lower: 85. It's only 11 reviews! I am sure you all can get that filled out in no time. Sorry for the rambling. Here you are!
And I know that this has been used in SWAC fan fictions often, but I tried to make it more unique and original and add my own little spin on it. Thanks for reading!
Chad's POV
She is killing me, and as surprising as it may sound, I am pretty sure that the feeling is mutual. The worst part? This is only the beginning. It has been precisely four hours since we've gotten on this plane, and I already want to rip my perfect hair out of my perfect head (I never would, of course, but you get the point). I have lost count of how many times we've argued today. I think we've set a new record. Sonny was still pouting in the seat beside me, her arms folded stubbornly over her chest as she stared angrily at the back of the seat in front of her. She looked like a huffing and puffing child that wasn't getting their way (psh, and she calls me immature!) I almost voiced this insult aloud, but I decided last minute not to as I considered the possible results.
A) We start fighting again, and we both get even more flustered than before—and The Chad can only handle so much until he reaches his breaking point. B) We become so loud again that another good-looking flight attendant comes by and starts flirting with Sonny. That wasn't even an option. C) I play it cool, because let's face it, Chad Dylan Cooper is the definition of cool. After I cool down, my head will be able to clear and I can focus on more important things—like myself.
I think I'll go with C. And it just so happens that the best option was conveniently the first letter of my name. Wow, I guess my perfection really is universal, isn't it? I smirked to myself as I skimmed the internet on my phone. It's good to be me.
I took a deep breath and felt my body relax. I really despise these mediocre public seats, but I might as well try and get comfortable while I'm here. My thoughts drifted aimlessly as I glanced out of the window directly beside me. I could faintly hear the silent hum of the engines as I gazed at the ever-darkening horizon. The clouds were beginning to become less eminent and darkness started to envelope the once orange and pink sky. It took me by surprise. What time was it? I turned my eyes away from the night and to my phone. It read 7:23. Wow, it was that late already? As if in answer to my thoughts, I heard the soothing voice of a woman echo through the cabin.
Ladies and gentlemen, the voice said politely, it's beginning to darken and night is approaching. In case you have forgotten or do not have any comfort items with you, there are pillows and blankets in the compartments above your seats. You are invited to fall asleep at any time you wish. Sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight on American Skies. Thank you.
I glanced out of the window, the sky seeming to be darker than it had only minutes before. I ran my hand through my flawless blonde hair and wondered how in the world I would sleep in seats without built-in adjustable lumbar support. I mean, honestly, I thought this was supposed to be first class! If Chad Dylan Cooper isn't satisfied, then it's not first class, it's second class; mediocre; embarrassment; valueless. Good thing I am not saying any of this out loud. Sonny would have a field day ranting about my big-headedness and 'inability to appreciate my fortune'. Again.
Speaking of Sonny, she's been unusually quiet the past ten minutes. I mean, she's probably given me eighteen silent treatments since we've boarded this plane, but none of them lasted over a twenty second period. That shows you Munroe's inability to shut her mouth. No wonder she works in Chuckle City. Curious as to what was causing the brunette to be so quiet (she better not be ignoring me. No one ignores Chad Dylan Cooper!), I stole a glance her direction.
What I saw shouldn't have surprised me. There sat (more like slept) little Sonny Munroe, her eyes shut tight and her body limp. Her head was turned away from me with her hair slightly strewn across the back of the seat. Her mouth was barely open, forming a perfect 'O' as barely audible snores escaped her once in a while. Her breathing was slow and even. If I do say so myself, she looked…
No, stop it, Chad! You're losing your focus, man! She's sleeping. That's it. Stop staring! I tore my eyes away from her with difficulty. She was so… peaceful. That's not something you see every day when I'm in the room with her. She instantly goes into 'I-hate-Chad' mode and all smiles are gone. Just then I noticed that she was hugging herself in her sleep and her legs were scrunched up on the seat. I sighed and rolled my eyes. She was going to make me do it, wasn't she?
I groaned at my lack of willpower and stood up, stretching my legs for the first time in hours. I was careful to walk past her without a sound as I stepped grudgingly into the aisle. I opened the compartment above our seats and took out a large, blue blanket. I shook it until it fell out of the neat square it was folded into. I pursed my lips.
I draped the blanket across her—well, not 'draped' exactly. More in between 'placed' and 'threw'. I was angry at myself and at her for making me do this nice deed. Was I turning into a mush ball? Chad Dylan Cooper doesn't do mushiness! But… CDC can be somewhat nice at rare and random moments, and I'll just let this fall under that category. No one knows about this besides me, anyway. Sonny stirred slightly as I sat back down, her legs spreading back out and relaxing at the warmth of the cover. I sighed, content. She looked comfortable, so no more 'thoughtful'—I get shivers just thinking the word—deeds tonight. I was home free.
…But not quite.
Sonny wasn't going to make the whole 'only think about me' thing easy, was she?
Just as I had settled back into my seat and was getting kind of comfortable, I felt a sudden weight added to my shoulder. My head snapped up. I was suddenly hit by a strong, sweet, strawberry aroma that I had memorized (not in a creepy way): Sonny's shampoo. Sonny's head was lying loosely on my shoulder. I repeat: Sonny's head is on my shoulder. Just for the sake of memories, I almost wrapped my arm around her shoulders. But that would be bad for me. That would be wrong. I shouldn't get used to wanting something I can never have.
Plus, it's awkward.
"Sonny," I whispered softly, desperately needing her to wake up before I changed my mind. She was motionless, obviously not a light sleeper. "Sonny!" I whispered again, a little louder this time. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, but besides that, she didn't budge. I reached my other arm around her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Sonny, wake up!"
"Nuh uh," she muttered groggily, her arms crossing underneath her blanket. She squirmed in her seat as she nestled her head even deeper into the side of my neck. I sighed, torn.
Then it occurred to me. This wasn't my fault. This wasn't my doing. Sonny was doing this, not me. I had tried to wake her up, and this time it was her idea to put her head on my shoulder. I began to smirk the most I have since I've boarded this plane. This just proves Sonny's attraction to me. She can't even resist me when she is unconscious!
Slowly, hesitantly, I tilted my neck. My head rested on top of hers, and I was cautious not to wake her up. It would be just my luck that I tried to wake her by poking and prodding and saying her name and it didn't work, but when I—yeah, I'll say it! (shudder)—snuggled back, her eyes would pop open. God was working in my favor at the moment, and if anything Sonny squirmed again, burying her head in my shoulder even more than before.
Even though I was unbelievably comfortable and the strawberry scent was disarming, I couldn't sleep. It was impossible. My eyes were wide open, anticipating the second she would jerk awake and blush deeply while accusing me of assault or something, but it never came. However, an hour later, I thought it had come close. When I heard Sonny speak, sounding angry, I felt that for sure I was caught.
"Chad!" Sonny cried angrily, and I jumped. She's awake. I'm dead. I'm dead. I shut my eyes tight, waiting for the scolding (not that I'm scared or anything!) But then I was confused. She giggled.
"Sonny?" I asked softly, glancing down at the top of her head. My heart pounded inside of my chest as she moved again.
"Jeremy… cute…" she muttered. Oh, so she is wanting to talk about the Jeremy thing again?! Well, I've got news for her: I'm not going to soil my perfect tongue by talking about that girl-stealing jerk! "Why… liked him…"
"I'm not talking about him," I said stubbornly, refusing to listen to her. Why would she go for second best if she had number one right here? I just don't understand the mystery that is Sonny Munroe.
"Check it out!" she mumbled with a very Sonny-like laugh. What did that have to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-In-a-Dorky-Suit?
Wait… is she sleep talking?
"Sonny?" I asked again, doubtful. "Are you asleep?"
"Check out that cute martian!" she laughed, snuggling into my shoulder again. I'll take that as a yes. She may think that martian is cute, but it's nothing compared to the girl passed out on my shoulder right now.
Suddenly, I had an idea.
"Check out Chad Dylan Cooper!" I whispered in her ear, her close proximity giving me chills. Her head turned up towards me. I could see her face now. Her eyes were still closed tight, revealing her flattering shade of dark eye shadow.
"Chad Dylan Cooper?" she asked, her voice weak from sleep.
"Yeah," I whispered back. "What do you think of him?"
She bit her lip in her sleep. There goes one of her looks that she wears only for me.
"Conceited…" she muttered, although I could tell in her dream she was having a full-blown conversation. I rolled my eyes as my shoulders slumped. Of course. But she wasn't finished. "Cosseted… self-absorbed…"
"Really?" I asked dully. "Anything else?" Probably nothing I don't hear every day.
"Takes… everything… for granted," Sonny yawned as she scowled. I just stared at her face, her innocent beauty making me frown. I could never have that. I never would have that. "But…"
But? There's a but? Is there still hope?
"Chad… complicated…" Sonny explained, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Can be… sweet…"
"I thought you hated me—him. I—I thought you hated him."
"Nope… I don't hate… don't hate anybody…"
Of course she doesn't. She's Sonny Munroe. She loves the world and believes it's filled with butterflies and rides to the studio on a unicorn.
"What's your favorite thing about him?" I asked curiously.
Her eyebrows furrowed. "Promise… you won't… tell?"
I didn't feel guilty at all. Not in the least. A diabolical grin was overtaking my face and glued there. Sonny was about to say something she didn't want anyone to know—and me to hear.
"I promise," I chuckled, smiling down at her.
"His… eyes…" Sonny answered, her voice sounding dreamy even in her sleep.
"Didn't I—he say that you would get lost in his eyes when he guest starred on your show?"
"Don't remind… me," she answered. As much as I hate to admit it, my smirk was transformed into probably the goofiest smile I've ever worn. Her favorite thing about me is my eyes. I mean, I've always known that she gets lost in them, but something about hearing her say it aloud was special.
Even though this probably means nothing to her, I am having the time of my life right now. We're flying off to another country together, we are sitting side by side and she has fallen asleep on my shoulder, and here she is telling me that she loves my eyes. I grinned, satisfied for the moment. I could feel my eyelids growing heavier as the strawberry smell pulled me under.
"'Night, Munroe," I whispered, settling my head back onto hers as she snored softly again. Her dark, shining hair was silky against my cheek.
Instead of responding, Sonny lifted her arms out from under the pale blue blanket and wrapped them around my right arm. She exhaled deeply, and I could feel her smiling against my shoulder. I found out something about Sonny Munroe today: she's clingy, and I never thought I'd like that in a girl.
The worst part (if there was one)? Sonny had no idea her head was on my shoulder. She had no idea she was clinging to my arm as if for dear life. She didn't know that she's snuggling with the enemy or that she just admitted out loud that she loves my eyes.
I'd remember this supposed 'milestone' in our 'relationship'—if you could call it that.
But she wouldn't.
For once in my life, I didn't enjoy knowing more than everyone else; being the wiser. It was just another thing I would have to hide.
…unless I could use it for blackmail. I smiled for two reasons as I fell asleep that night. Mackenzie Falls rule numero uno: always have material on the enemy. My many-sided mind began to turn in cycles as I took in a last whiff of strawberry before I fell asleep.
I'll only use it if completely necessary.
For Sonny.
Groan.
