A Long Way From Here
9
He either had the luck of the devil, or she did, Sonny wasn't sure which. Whatever it was, luck (good or bad) or the imp of the perverse, she hadn't managed to corner Chad in the last three days. Granted, it was Owen's shooting schedule, but she sort of figured she could have gotten it done somehow. They were living together, after all. But it just seemed kind of rude to bring it up and rip him to shreds over dinner that he cooked even after a grueling day of solo shooting.
In the last three days, though, they'd managed to clear up a lot of the background for Colin and Erin. Sonny had already shot her character's first few days alone in London, and they'd done nearly all of Chad's background. And they'd managed to get the scene where Erin witnesses Colin with another woman. Not that it mattered, there really wasn't a ton of interaction for it, so another chance to ask Chad what the hell had slipped through.
It was one of the reasons she was lingering on the edges of tonight's shoot. She needed to get this done before they started the next round of filming. They only had another week and a half left before they went to the countryside for the pivotal scenes that were the climax of the movie. And her extremely necessary crash course in the arts equestrian. Or making sure she wouldn't fall off of her horse.
She figured Chad would be fine, since no one seemed to be worried about teaching him. He was, damn him, a man of many hidden talents, because he was currently playing Clair de Lune on an old bar piano in a hole in the wall pub. As Colin, yes, but the movement was far too practiced for Chad to have taken a crash course in piano.
He was good. Damn it. And it pissed her off that he was good. That she'd been living with him for weeks now and that he was still surprising her, whether it be his obvious attitude change, or his cooking skills, or the easy way his hands moved across the black and white piano keys.
It wasn't so surprising that she was having to actively stop thinking about how those talented hands would feel on her body. Especially since she'd already been privy to the experience, and experience that had fueled far too many interesting dreams for her taste.
The scene cut with Owen's voice, shaking Sonny back into reality from her annoyed thoughts.
"Right, Coop, can we play something a little more contemporary this time around? I know you love classical, and that Colin does, too, but Clair de Lune is too Twilight for me," Owen joked as he shoved a full pint at the blond man.
Chad chuckled and polished off the top third of the beer. "You're the one that said Colin did classical piano. And just think, all of those primed and ready females who can wish that Colin sparkled as he plays."
Owen frowned mockingly. "We can get some glitter in here. Cheaper than the special effects Summit forked out for, and far more effective."
Chad jerked back from his friend with a laugh and Sonny had to bite her lip against the giggle that threatened to burst out of her. "If you come near me with glitter, Owen, I swear by whatever god you hold dear I will throw you in the Thames."
Owen's hands went up defensively. "I bought you a pint, mate. Drink it and don't be hostile."
Chad bared his teeth in a fake growl before taking another drink and sitting the glass on top of the piano. "Alright, let's try this one on for size."
His hands moved again and in the abnormally silent pub the keys rang with a deceptive volume. The first few notes were soft, on the higher end of the scale, but Sonny was immediately entranced. Chad's fingers never faltered as he lowered the register. It felt sad, needy, almost the way she felt about him when she was honest with herself. It would be so easy to lose herself to it, to him, to the utter need that thrummed through her as the music sped towards a first bridge, a gentle crescendo of sound.
She closed her eyes and let go.
The temp sped, slowed; the theme never changed.
It ended as it began, soft and desperate love echoing from the body of piano. She inhaled softly wondering at the tears on her face and reaching up to scrub them away. Music had always moved her, but this was just magic. The applause that broke out made her smile, she could feel the need to just be the Sonny that she used to be—if only for a moment. She joined in, her hands echoing the claps that he deserved.
The Chad that she'd known would have eaten it up, bowing and making a general spectacle. The Chad she knew actually ducked his head, blood rising to heat his cheeks as he demurred the applause.
"It's called Leaves on the Seine," he told Owen. "We'll have to get rights to use it, you know. More out of the budget."
"We'll find it, Coop. That was fucking fantastic." Even Owen wasn't immune to the mood Chad had evoked with the song. "Was anyone rolling? Did we get that on film?"
There were three cameras present, Sonny knew from an earlier count. And two of them had been filming, much to her relief. The impromptu concerto had been filmed. It, too, would make the final cut, as unplanned as so many things that were going in. it seemed to be the norm for this movie, but Sonny couldn't begrudge it. Despite the random filming of certain things, they would work. She knew it. And she knew she would work as Erin, and Chad of course as Colin.
It had to. They had to. She couldn't live with being typecast forever—she couldn't make a living doing that and it just wasn't who she was anymore. She was better than just being the pretty funny girl. And she was going to prove it. To the world, to herself, and to Chad.
She could get her own damned roles.
xXx
As far as Sonny was concerned, Chad wasn't going to know what hit him. She'd fled the pub and his musical talents quickly after her anger had returned. (Just as strong as ever, though Sonny thought she might should be ashamed of holding the grudge. The old Sonny wouldn't have, but that wasn't her, as she'd forcibly reminded herself after nearly losing the anger to the music.)
She cooked, which helped her focus her thoughts. And, a plus, also kept her from the mindset of being an ungrateful guest after he'd cooked. Granted, it was simple food, nothing more than sautéed chicken with greens and vegetables, but she still cooked. She felt vaguely uncomfortable cooking in someone else's kitchen, but she was beyond really caring.
Besides, it would serve him right to soften him up before telling him what an ass he was for bringing her onto the project under duress.
Sonny missed the key in the lock, but the closing of the door warned her before he could find her in the kitchen. "In here," she called. "I cooked since you shot all evening. Come get it while it's hot." She winced at the words; she'd heard her mother say the very same thing more than once and it brought back memories that she didn't really want right now.
She felt his presence before his hand slid against the small of her back, his face coming next to hers to peer at the pan on the stove. "Herbs and no spices? Looks great." Then he pressed a kiss to her cheek, throwing her off balance for a moment as she lifted the pan and turned away from him blindly.
He'd kissed her. Kissed her! What the hell was that?
She didn't offer conversation as he pulled two plates from the cabinet and handed her one. She was more interested in avoiding the implications of what he'd done and focusing on the food to really get involved with conversation. In fact, she was more interested in the food than thinking about any of it until she slaughtered the sudden bedeviled spate of butterflies in her stomach after that. He's kissed her.
There it was again. Fuck. She winced at her mental language and covered it by ducking her head to eat, not willing to give him any hint that he'd unsettled her. She'd already been unsettled, but that was beside the point. She needed to be angry. She couldn't confront him if she wasn't.
"I saw your shoot at the pub," she finally said, grasping at anything that might give her the emotional strength she needed to be properly pissed off. "I didn't know you could play the piano."
He finished chewing before answering with a teasing waggle of eyebrows. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Sonny."
"Yeah, I know," she bit off. And just like that, it was back.
She held onto it fiercely, her conversation suddenly devolving into hard one syllable answers until Chad was looking at her oddly as he took her empty plate and rinsed it before slipping it into the dishwasher. She resolutely ignored him as she dumped the remaining food into a plastic dish and covered it, shoving it into the fridge without looking at him.
"Sonny?" he finally ventured when she closed the door. "Did I do something to make you mad?"
"Of course not," she replied, still not looking at him. The words were like ice dripping from her mouth. She almost shivered from it. "Nothing you do is wrong. Everything is exactly how you want it, isn't that right?"
He didn't say anything and she turned to face him, her face set in harsh lines. She was angry, yes, but now the hurt was beginning to come back. She didn't want that, she just wanted the anger. Her hands fisted and she dug her nails painfully into her palms. If she wasn't bleeding when this was over Sonny would be amazed.
"I talked to Jennifer. Three days ago."
"Okay?" The confusion in his blue eyes was almost pleasing. It would shock him more than she'd found out. Sonny felt unholy glee rising past the hurt to match the anger.
"Owen wanted someone else for the part."
Chad's brow furrowed. "We kicked a lot of names around, Sonny. A lot of them weren't reasonable," he offered against the wall of her anger.
"You put my name forward."
"I did."
And like that it broke inside of her.
"I can get parts on my own, Chad Cooper!" Her voice echoed in the kitchen, raised as it was. "I don't need your help. I'm a damn fine actress. I don't need fucking handouts from you."
"What?"
She was irrationally pleased by his confusion, but the lack of understanding in his eyes. It would let her lay it out exactly as it was. "You wanted me on the project," she ground out, her teeth clenched and dark eyes flashing with suppressed rage. "You demanded Owen hire me for this."
He said nothing.
"Was it some fucked up plot? Did you need to feel better than me? 'Poor Sonny'," she intoned, her voice a strident hiss. "She couldn't get a part for herself, right? So you could step up and be Chad Dylan Cooper, the golden boy, the Hollywood star, and help out the stupid little girl from Wisconsin."
"It wasn't like that," he shot at her. "It wasn't anything like that."
"Then what was it like, Chad?" she demanded. She defied him with her voice, with her eyes, and refused to back down when he took two stalking steps toward her.
"It doesn't matter if you were having a crappy time getting a part," he finally said.
Her jaw dropped. The jerk. The nerve. The unbelievable gall. She shoved past him until she was leaning against the empty island in the middle of the kitchen, palms flat against the cool marble surface. She had to breathe, carefully, slowly, before the red she was seeing blinded her and made her slap him the way she was sorely tempted to do.
"It doesn't matter?" she whispered. "It doesn't matter? It matters, Chad!" She nearly shrieked it as she turned back to face him. "I can get my own parts, damn it."
"I never said you couldn't!" His voice was just as loud as hers, but Sonny didn't care.
"You did! You demanded I get the part. Tell me how that means I can get my own parts!"
"I suggested you." Now his voice was silky smooth as he came near her again. "You were having a shit time in New York and you were obviously not going back to Hollywood to try and get cast. It was just a favor, and it was just a suggestion."
Sonny's eyes narrowed. "I don't need any favors from you, Chad Dylan Cooped," she hissed at him with venom in her voice. "Not from you. Not from anyone. Don't do me any, not a single one."
"Fine," he bit out.
"Fine!" she shot back, irritated at the sudden reemergence of their old pattern.
Chad's eyes flashed at her, electric blue with annoyance. "Good," he retorted. The way they seemed to lose five years of maturity was enough to make him smile at her, Sonny could see it in the way he stopped his lips from quirking up at the edges.
It made her even more irrational so that she continued on with it, her, "Good!" as biting as it had never been before.
"Fine!"
He was closer now, almost flush with her, almost threatening, except Chad had never really frightened her. Infuriated her, yes, made her lust after him insanely, no doubt. But never fear. It was the only reason why she felt safe in ending it the way they had always ended it.
"Fi—," was she got out, ready to push him away again and vanish to her room, but his hands were heavy and hot on her shoulders and his mouth crashed against hers.
Her breath fled along with any sanity she might have had. He smelled like the pub he'd been playing in, beer and smoke and stale cigarettes, he tasted like the herbed chicken and beneath that the Guinness she'd watched him drink. But under that was Chad, the same man whom she had pretended to make love to already, the man who had fueled the erotic dreams she'd been victim to for days on end since that night.
So of course it was completely normal that she fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him closer.
It wasn't anything like the kisses they'd shared in front of the cast and crew, not the impromptu ones in Harrods or Trafalgar Square or even the heated scene where Erin and Colin finally fell into bed. It was hot and demanding, no surrender, just a fight to get as much as they could before one or the other came to their senses. But Sonny didn't really plan to, not yet. Maybe not ever.
She'd wanted this almost since she'd seen him again, she realized with a start.
The shock of the realization had her jerking back from him, her hip banging painfully into the countertop and making her hiss with the shock of it. She was breathing heavily, just as heavily as he was. Her hands were still fisted in his shirt; she couldn't bring herself to let go.
"Sonny, I…" He couldn't finish. She didn't know why, desperately wanted to know what he wanted to say. Sonny's fingers flexed convulsively against the thin cotton.
She exhaled slowly, her eyes never leaving Chad's. it was almost like she was giving him permission to do what she wanted to do, what she was suddenly afraid to do. To kiss him again.
It was Chad that finally moved, ending the stalemate as he brought his hands up to wrap around her wrists. Strong hands, sure and steady as he pulled hers away from his shirt. She thought for a moment that Chad was going to walk away, leave her there confused and desperate for his touch. He didn't. Instead he pulled her closer, loosing one wrist to bring his hand up to her face, to pull her closer and kiss her again.
This time was just as different as the previous kiss had been. Chaste, almost innocent, the keen edge of desire rising between them until she was ready to whimper as his finally buried his hands in her hair. her body was pressed against him and she could feel the hard length of him pressing against her, full proof that he wanted her, wanted this, as much as she did.
"Sonny," he breathed against her lips. "Tell me this is okay. Tell me this isn't going to fuck everything up."
She smiled a little. "Chad, if you don't kiss me again, that's going to fuck everything up."
His response was everything that she didn't know she hoped for, heated and passionate. She didn't protest when he wrapped his arms around her. For her part Sonny was content to let him, her arms winding up around his neck so that she could run her fingers through his hair, pull him closer, let herself melt into him almost literally. She felt completely boneless as she finally surrendered to it, not caring what happened or didn't happen.
Pure. Driving. Need.
It was inevitable, what was happening. Sonny didn't protest when Chad lifted her, his arms secure around her, the kiss breaking for barely a moment before his mouth found hers again, insistently plying her lips until Sonny couldn't do anything but give in. The found his bed more quickly than she'd expected—Sonny didn't care as he laid her out on it before following her down, fingers working at the buttons along the front of her shirt until it was gone. His followed shortly, Sonny making quick work of it just as he had hers.
The almost familiar weight of his body felt right, felt exactly as she wanted, as she needed. His skin burned hers where it touched, the flush of desire breaking between them until there was nothing left but just them. In the end, all Sonny could do was surrender to it.
