Chad's point of view…
Later in the morning…
In the tent: Chad is standing near the entrance; Sonny is asleep still.
She looked like a fricken angel as she slept. So defenseless and vulnerably beautiful. Her hands were balled into fists at her chest, pulling the sleeping bag over her. Her hair fell perfectly across the pillow, over her face, and down her neck.
Oh, God, I just wanted to touch it. It looked so soft and…conditioned.
Conditioned? What is wrong with you, Chad?
I should wake her up.
No. She was too peaceful. I didn't want to disturb her.
Her lips parted slightly, and she uttered something in a language all of her own.
She was so cute.
Why didn't I kiss her last night? I had way too many chances, and I blew all of them.
But what bothered me most, was the fact that I had no more chances. Today, we were going home. Back to our normal, separate lives despising each other. At least, I would pretend to despise her. I could never, ever hate Sonny Monroe. I could never feel anything toward her, apart from…
Stop it, Chad! I didn't.
But I did. I absolutely loved her. And I would never stop.
It didn't matter, though. We wouldn't ever be together, and I just had to learn to accept that.
A pain shot through me, as I stared at the angel. Someone else's angel.
I walked silently toward her, careful not to wake the sleeping beauty.
I touched her cheek, lifting a lock of hair. Then another. "Sonny," I whispered. "Wake up."