It's kinda weird how I enjoy writing in a guy's point of view, more than a girl's. And yes, I'm straight. :) Guys are soooooo fricken hot, so don't worry! Like Sterling Knight…ahh…he's sooooo adorable! :) :) :)

So…Chapter stinkin 11. Hope you enjoy the perverted mind of Chad Dylan Cooper!

P.S. This is in Chad's point of view, incase you didn't already figure that out :)

P.P.S. If any of you haven't heard the Rebecca Black song, Friday, it's so amazing! I love it!

NOTT! It's Terrible! You guys HAVE to check out how famous this stupid girl is over her one awful video! IT IS THE WORST THING YOU WILL EVER HEAR IN YOUR LIFE!

P.P.P.S. This is fair warning for language in this chapter. I drop an F bomb and a couple of others. Hey, this is a guy's mind. It's bound to swear a lot :)

Where are my lips? They're numb! I can't feel them!

Relax, Chad. They're on your face, right where you left them.

Ahh! My hair's messed up! Why did I have to kiss her so passionately?

You didn't, remember? You kissed her so lightly, she probably barely felt it. She probably thinks you're a loser, I thought, brushing my bangs discreetly back into place.

Oh my fucking gosh, I just kissed Sonny Monroe. My stomach lurched in satisfaction. No, it didn't happen! I'm dreaming! Wake up, Chad!

But I didn't wake. I didn't find myself lying in bed, staring wide-eyed into the empty darkness and hugging my pillow to my body, wishing it was her.

No, Sonny was right there, walking so sexily in front of me: back stiff and curved beneath my T-shirt, hair flowing lazily past her shoulders, and, oh God, that ass.

'If you want me, Chad, come get me,' she seemed to say. I wanted her. Oh God, did I want her. Like a wild cat ready to pounce, I crept up behind her, quiet and stealthy, before grabbing her around the waist, and scooping her into my arms.

"Chad!" she squealed in delight, pressing her cold, smooth fingertips to my wrists, trying to wrestle my arms away. But I would not let go. I would never, EVER let go. Not now that I had her. She was mine. My angel. No one else's.

"Chad!" she whined my name, struggling in my arms. "Let me go!"

I spun her around so she was facing me, and I felt her body collapse against mine. Her hands were balled in fists on my chest as she looked up at me.

"Never," I answered her, my head swimming with the idea that Sonny's eyes were on me. Only me. Her world shrunk, so I was the only human on it.

And I imagined her world becoming more and more filled with me, as I came so close to her face, our noses touched. And her breath smelled so fresh, like minty or something. How was it so fresh in the morning? She hadn't brushed her teeth yet.

With every inch she came closer to me, I pulled an inch away. And every new spot she touched on my chest, I shied in the opposite direction.

For a moment, I actually thought she could be mine. She was mine. But for some reason, some deep, painfully rooted reason, I knew this was a lie.

Sonny.

Chad.

Were

Never

Meant

To

Be.

I knew that's how it was. I knew that's how I should let it be.

"I'm sorry," I said. I took her hands from my chest, and placed them at her side. I took her shirt off of me, and forced her fingers to curl around the fabric and take it back. I took the color from her eyes, the life from her now-dead smile, and the joy from her heart. I took everything that mattered, even if it wasn't mine to begin with.

Sonny Monroe was gone.

What was left was a zombie, walking lifelessly to the passenger side of the car, as if it was just routine and she was programmed to do it.

Shirtless, I climbed behind the wheel, shutting the door behind me. Hating myself. I should've kissed her. I should have fucking kissed her. I should've leaned across this damn seat at this very moment, and planted one on her. But there was one thing holding me back.

One damn thing.

Home.

Going back to the studios. Back to our suckish original lives; loving each other at a distance, knowing we could never actually be together. Back to words haunting me every night before I'd fall asleep, that were unspoken between us.

Tell her now, a small whisper urged inside my head.

No, I answered it. It's too late. We're going back home.

Keys in the ignition, I drove off, without saying one thing to her.

But those same words were in my head the entire time.

I

Love

You

Sonny

Monroe.