Yeah, I'm back! Sorry, it's been a while. It's just that I've been in school and all, and I really don't want to rush this story: I'm trying to make each chapter of alright length so you won't get done with it in five minutes and so that something actually happens in the story, especially because last chapter was more of a filler.

There's Channy in this one! Happy reading!(:

~.~.~.~.~.~

Sonny's POV

Twenty Minutes Ago:

"I don't think that'd be the best idea, Chad. Dan— I mean, my ex-boyfriend is still chasing me, I need to pack up, I need to come up with new sketch ideas…"

"Why not? It's fun. Go boating, surfing, we'll make dinner: everything's set up. All you have to do is bring a swimsuit. It's the weekend, Sonny. Two more days until freedom. When was the last time you did something fun?"

"Well…"

"And I mean, we're going to be seeing each other a lot… we should get used to it."

"True…"

"Somehow I'm sensing you're hesitant."

"It's just that… I'm unsure, I guess."

"Look, it's just an open invitation. If you don't want to come, don't answer the door when I knock on Friday, and I'll leave you alone. It's completely optional, and I don't want to force you to do anything you don't wanna do."

I sigh. "Thanks Chad. It means a lot to me."

"Anything for my Shortstack."

This almost catches me off-guard. I hadn't been called Shortstack for almost as long as I could remember. This just tells me how much better Chad is at this fake-dating publicity thing than I am. I guess he's just better at words and speaking more than I am overall, really. There's a short, awkward silence before I quickly say, "Bye, Chad."

~.~.~

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I'm rummaging through my closet in my dressing room, throwing unnecessary items of clothing out the door. I can imagine that the main room looks like my closet threw up, but I don't care. I can clean it all up later. In the meantime, while I'm searching, I just need to keep Tawni calm. "Trying to find my swimsuit."

"Oh, you're gonna come get a tan with me tomorrow?"

"Not exactly."

"Then why are you trying to find a swimsuit?"

"Chad invited me to go boating with his cast on Friday," I explain quickly, still digging through my clothes.

"Hmm?" she says carefully. "So… like… a date? I sense my work in the cafeteria worked."

"Well, it's not exactly a date."

"Then what is it?"

"Just… hanging out with him? And apparently, his cast."

She scoffs. "Please Sonny. At our age, there's no 'just friends' thing."

"We're 'just friends' with Grady and Nico," I point out.

"Well, Grady's set on marrying Mel, and… well, I don't know about Nico, but one of us with Nico? Ew!" she shudders. "And plus, you don't just randomly get together with someone you haven't even communicated with since forever."

"But isn't it sort of childish?" I say. What else am I supposed to say? Oh yeah, I'm just going to fake-date Chad for publicity and then leave him again. "I guess, it's our last year for us, they're fighting for one more year, we might as well just mature now and learn."

She thinks about this, takes a seat on her cheetah-patterned chair and muses. "Something's up. Being Tawni Hart, I'll figure it out. But obviously you don't want to spill right now."

"There's nothing to spill."

"You think you two will get together again?"

"…Possibly?" I say, in the form of a question. I wasn't expecting that question. "I… don't know." I can't give a straight answer. Mr. Condor didn't say I shouldn't tell anyone, but it seemed to be part of the agreement.

"What did he talk to you about during lunch?"

"Why are you even here, Tawni?" I ask, avoiding the question and trying not to sound irritated, but it somehow comes out the wrong way. Tawni doesn't mind it though.

"Well," she starts. "I was on my way home for the day, so I came in here to grab my purse, then I saw that your closet threw up, so I asked you about it and now I'm on my chair talking to you about your potential new boyfriend. I don't think it's very complicated. So, down to business… don't think you can beat around the bush. What'd Lover Boy say to you during lunch today?"

I sigh. Tawni is a very persistent person, and I know that if I didn't tell her anything, she will expect something much worse than it actually is. I'd have to ask Mr. Condor before I say anything about the whole scheme he has set up, but I'd start with the basics. "We shared a lunch. Talked about life."

"Life? Like what?"

"For starters, Chad wants to go into directing. He might even go to college and study it."

"Chad? College? Really?"

"It's possible, I guess. He's really changed. He's not as… cocky as I'd imagine I guess. He's not the same Chad Dylan Cooper, believe it or not."

"I'll take your word for it. He's changed for the better… or the worse?"

I stop digging through the clothes, purely just to think about this. I tilt my head a little and stare off into space, something I usually do when I think. "Both… yet neither. I guess… well, I don't know. It's just not the same. In all fairness, I'm not the exploding ball of sunshine, exactly." I start going through everything again."

"Sonny, no one can ever replace you as that. That's like, your trademark," Tawni says. "It just doesn't work."

"Still, I just don't feel the same as I used to when I was—hah! I finally found it," I pull out a black one-piece with white polka-dots on it, feeling victorious in finally finding my possession. I've had it since I used to live in Wisconsin. You'd think I'd retire it when I got to California, but nope, it's still here. A little taste of home, I guess. There wasn't much a selection though. You can't expect finding the most perfect swim wear in a place where it snows all the time and you're known for cheese. "Triumph," I smile.

"Oh. Hell no," Tawni gasps. "Please, Sonny, are you seriously going to wear that? On a date?"

"Again, Tawni, it's not a date per say…"

"Not to mention that the color's faded… it just, looks like something my grandma would wear! You know, if my grandma were eighty with no taste. Blegh!" she shudders. "It doesn't show anything either! I'm surprised it's not a full-out body suit, I mean, it just doesn't look right, Sonny. I bet it doesn't even fit anymore, it's so tiny. When did you buy it?"

I feel my self-esteem drop when I say, "Six years ago."

She looks at me. "No. Thank God I'm here to help you."

She gets up and walks into her closet. I can hear her move a few hangers around, some fabric brushing against others, but other than that, it's pretty organized. Much more than mine. Before long, she comes out with a white, frilly type thing in her hands. When I look at it closer, I see it's in two parts. A strapless top with fabric flowers in the center and a bottom that looks like there's a triangle in the front and back with the bottom corners connected to make it wearable and a string of flowers on either side.

In other words, I might as well go naked.

"You're wearing this," she says.

I look at her, with a blank look on my face. "It's not a costume party, Tawn. And even if it were, I wouldn't go as a prostitute."

She groans. "Ugh, Sonny, this is SO YOU. A sexier version of you, but you nonetheless. You can totally use it. In fact keep it! It's in my pile of clothes of things that I thought about wearing that I actually never touched."

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll be needing that."

"You need it, sweetie. It's just so… innocent. And really, not me at all. Plus, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity of me letting you take something that I own." She holds it out to me. "I give you my blessing."

"Tawni, I appreciate your generosity, but it's just so… not me," I shrug.

"Oh please, Chad would love it."

"Uh-huh," I say sarcastically.

She shrugs. "Well, it's true. Guys are animals, Sonny. Especially Hollywood guys. And Chad's got quite a rep. It may have quieted down when you guys were dating, but still, he's still a bad boy. And he's been working out too. He's a sex god, practically. Sex. God."

"Ugh, you're gross."

"Well, I have a point."

"What's your point then?"

She sighs in frustration. "What I'm saying is that you're NOT going to go to boating with Chad wearing something that you wore when you were, what, fifteen? You're twenty-one, Sonny. Embrace it."

I look at the clothing article in her hands, hesitant. She, then, tosses it on the couch. "Look," she says. "If you want it, you can take it. I'm not going to push it, because I'm your friend and I know you'll make a good decision, but… okay, yeah. It's an open decision. And you've got two days to choose. Plus, it's just a swimsuit. Not a huge deal." Tawni picks up her bag, and leaves, the click-clack of her high heels going out the hall.

I still don't know what to say as I look down at the out-dated thing in my hands and the bra-and-thong on the couch. Well, there's no question about it. The one piece was the way to go. But when I pick it up to observe it more carefully, I do see Tawni's argument.

There are pros and cons to each. The good thing about the one-piece is that I feel comfortable in it, it's well into my comfort zone that I don't really want to change. It doesn't show too much skin, and it's totally wearable. However, it is faded and for a twenty-one year old, an unflattering cut. Tawni's little prostitute outfit is completely different, but I do admit that there are some benefits. For one thing, it's more 'age-appropriate' for me and it's showy, and I'll say it, I like the way I look in a bikini. Not that I've ever really possessed one…

My phone beeps from my back pocket. Putting the bikini down, I check the text. It's from my real estate agent telling me about one possible costumer. Finally. Except they want the apartment for $100,000 less than stated. It'd be a loss, but it could be a lot worse. I text back that I'll think about it, and ask if my agent can raise it at least $50,000 more, and that I'll continue packing so that this interested person may be able to see that apartment physically. When I get a response back saying that he'd do that, I shove it back into my pocket and stare back at the two swimsuits.

The text snaps me back to reality. I can't believe that I'm actually making such a huge deal about which swimsuit I'm going to choose. Tawni was right: it's just a swimsuit, and I had two whole days to choose. Honestly, I have more things on my mind and I can't afford to spend an hour on something that doesn't really matter in the first place. There's no question about it. I'll go with the one-piece.

But the second I see Tawni shaking her head in my mind, her disappointed look with her Coco Moco Coco lips pursed and her arms crossed, I reach for the bikini, stuff it in my purse, and leave without bothering to clean up the mess behind me.

On the way out, I pick up a granola bar to munch on and a cup of coffee to keep me awake, then I get into my car (well, my MOM'S car: an old, beat-up orange truck which, now that she's gone, I hope to sell soon), planning out the rest of my day mentally as I put the key in to start the car.

Dinner isn't an option, unless I want a dollar meal at McDonald's, but I push away that option as I'm trying to watch my diet. Right now, it's seven o'clock, getting a little dark already. I'd eat and drink on the way to my apartment, I'd pack until ten, try to finish up a sketch idea by eleven, and be in bed by midnight. It should all work out.

If my car wants to start. Why isn't it starting?

I try to start it up again, expecting the engine to naturally roar to life, but it doesn't. I try again. No response. Once more. Nothing. The stupid piece of junk doesn't want to start. And it makes me mad. I get out of the car and kick it like I've seen in movies, and it still doesn't work. I know I'm supposed to be reasonable, but I completely lose my mind as I grab the rest of my boiling hot coffee, take off the lid, and splatter it all over the front of my car. But it does absolutely nothing (as expected), and now, I have no coffee and a car that doesn't work.

"Shit!" I say. It's not like me to swear, but it's not a foreign thing to me. "Damn this car."

"Whoa, Munroe…" I hear a voice behind me. "Let's not get too… colorful."

I turn around and I see Chad, wearing his signature smirk that I haven't seen in a while, and if I were in a good mood, I'd say I miss it. He continues. "I've never seen you swear before, to be honest, and I have to admit, it's quite amusing. Then again, I've also never thought I'd see America's Sweetheart throw coffee on her car."

"I'm not America's Sweetheart anymore," I mutter. "That title is Jennifer's, I think."

"Because Katniss Everdeen is such an innocent role."

"You're just mad you didn't get the part of Peeta."

He chuckles, a big hearty laugh from deep in his throat, soft and smooth and sharp and crisp in all the right ways. "Well played. At least we're talking again. Even if it's just this on-going, pointless banter," he gestures at us.

"I guess so."

"It's been a while, I'm a little rusty at this," he chuckles again. "But it'll take no time to adjust again. By the way, I was a SHOO-IN for Peeta. I'm still working out how Hutcherson cheated. He's not even blonde!"

I almost make a cheesy toothy smile, but I force myself not to. The blood boiling underneath my skin that makes me feel alive is nothing. The color that wants to blush on my cheeks is insignificant and childish. The adrenaline I have is something I'll have to shake off. I have to get real here.

The truth is this: I'm not seventeen. I'm not America's Sweetheart, the one with the Romeo/Juliet romance with Chad Dylan Cooper from the rival show, or the one that would spin in frilly dresses at awards ceremonies for paparazzi before getting my acting praised or criticized by people she haven't even met. I'm not all smiles and laughs and big brown eyes. I'm Allison "Sonny" Munroe: mature, capable of managing herself, sophisticated. An adult.

Those blue eyes, the blonde hair, the smirk on his lips… This feeling will die down, it has to. There's nothing he can do to make me fall for him, even if he's not trying to. Why can't we both accept that nothing will ever be the same? It'd be so much easier, and maybe I wouldn't have ever agreed to this mess. For now, I have to dwell on the fact that this is all a game: just for the cameras.

I allow myself a slight, polite grin. "Josh is amazing, just so you know. And if Efron gets the part of Finnick, I'll make fun of you forever."

He sighs sharply, but he's smiling, a mock frustration. "Props to you."

"Props accepted."

Silence. Which makes sense. What was supposed to happen now? A confession of feelings toward each other like in the movies? But I feel nothing for him. Him to just speed away in his glossy black sports car? Maybe. But whatever it is, it's not going to be a happy-go-lucky-now-we're-totally-best-friends-again thing.

"So… I'm guessing you need a ride?" he offers. It kinda catches me off-guard. It's so… un-Chad I guess. Like, I know that Chad can be a sweet person: I would've never dated him if I didn't know that. But then again, there was a reason why we broke up. I'd have to cope with it, I know, because I already agreed to Mr. Condor's proposal, but… I guess accepting a ride on regular circumstances with your ex that you haven't talked to for such a long time until just today is too crazy.

But being in Hollywood for so long, I've come to the conclusion that all actors and actresses are crazy. So I guess nothing is too unnatural here.

Before I can control myself, before I can make a witty comment like old times or politely say no and get a closer friend to hitch a ride with, I shrug and say, "Uh, yeah, I guess so... Um, thanks."

He grins as he opens the door for me. "No problem."

How can he be so cool about this? As I slip into the sleek, black car and lay back in the leather passenger seat, I try to keep myself from shivering or shaking from being nervous. But obviously I can tell it doesn't work, because he offers me his leather jacket, which I politely decline.

He shrugs while putting on his seatbelt, "Suit yourself, but you look cold."

"I'm fine, I promise."

"Fine then."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Good."

I hear his hearty chuckle as he pulls out of the parking lot and switches on the radio to his usual station, which currently plays a Maroon 5 song I can't quite identify. I look out the window, it seems like the natural thing to do at the moment. Once he gets on the road, he decides to start the conversation.

"You know, Sunshine, even if we haven't talked in four… five years, I still care about you," he says easily, so light-heartedly. I don't understand it. Just last night, this was the boy who wouldn't dare acknowledge me when discussing the idea of fake-dating.

I say quietly, almost to the point where he can't hear it. "I know."

He does catch my words though. "I told you that I'd care for you forever. I guess it was cheesy and cliché, but…"

His words sort of trail off, like he's expecting me to finish his sentence. I see it as an opportunity to say, "It's something all couples do, I guess. It doesn't mean anything."

Chad nods, considering this statement, "Well, yeah, I guess so, but I do really still care about you. In a friends way, I guess. We don't have to hate each other, Sonny."

"I don't hate you."

"Well, I know that, but…"

"I get the feeling of déjà vu."

"Sonny," he says straightforwardly. "If you don't mind me asking… what exactly happened with Danny?" At the sound of his name, I see his muscles tense up protectively, his grasp is firm on the steering wheel.

The question shocks me. First of all, I have yet to find a guy with the nerve to ask such a question if he knew what I had been through. Second, he had no business in my ex. Third, I knew what he wanted: a big, fat YOU WERE RIGHT. And he would have the license to say I TOLD YOU SO. Ugh.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes when he sees me frozen.

But if he's telling the truth, then he has every right to know. He had warned me after all. And really, if he didn't give a damn, he wouldn't have told me in the first place. Sometimes, I wish he didn't know anything. Shit.

Words fail me. But not completely. When I speak, I find a refreshing perkiness to my voice. "Let's start fresh."

He chuckles a little. "Fair enough. Hey, I'm Chad Dylan Cooper, what's your name?"

"Sonny Munroe."

"Nice name."

"Thanks."

He starts to continue this banter, but stops himself. "I get the feeling of déjà vu," he says, quoting me. I let a smile creep on my lips, which I hope he can't see in the darkness. He continues, "So, Sonny, tell me about your day."

I emphasize my sigh for our role play. "Interesting. I had lunch with my ex today, which my boss wants me to have a fake relationship with. Then he called me right in the middle of practice, so I turned bright red while in the Backup Singers sketch and had to pick up my phone. So he invited me to his cast's barbeque on Friday, and Tawni's now making me pick between two swimsuits to wear."

"Hm," he says, his eyes fixed on the road, but I feel that I'm receiving his attention. "What are you picking from?"

"One-piece with polka dots versus blue bikini: top is strapless and the bottom is… stringy."

"The bikini shows more skin?"

"…Yes."

"Bikini, obviously," he says (a little too quickly). I think I catch him grinning when he says, "I happen to know your ex is going to love that."

"You're such a perv," I laugh.

"I'm a man, Sonny, I can't help myself. New rule, if you are coming, you're wearing that bikini you've made me envision."

"It's in my bag."

"You wanna try it on for me? You know, when we stop?"

"Oh, you're disgusting."

"What, you think I'm just going to stare at you in a bikini all day, Munroe? I just met you, that'd be entirely inappropriate."

"Exactly," I agree.

He goes on, "Think of it more as… me testing it out for your ex," he chuckles. "I happen to know that your ex and I have a lot in common. For example, I have blue eyes, he has blue eyes. I'm on a TV show, he's on one too. So, if by seeing you in a bikini, per chance I get a boner, then it's only logical that—"

"Don't get into specifics," I interrupt, laughing. "Geez, why is this so hard to do without getting dirty?"

"That's what she said."

"Oh, shut up."

Suddenly, I feel the car stop, and I see lights. When I see the white stone columns, the palm trees, the yellow stucco, the violet flowers, brown shingles for the roof, the rustic orange tinge of the tile in the driveway, I realize we're not at my apartment. It looks like a three-story, Italian mansion.

"It's nice to be back home," Chad says as he opens the door for me.

"I thought you were dropping me off at my apartment…" I say, gripping my purse (just in case).

Chad shrugs as I hear his car chirp when he locks it. "I dunno, you just seem… stressed. I felt like you needed a night away from home. Plus, you haven't been to my house yet, so… ta-da."

I follow him as he goes up to the front door and take out his collection of keys all attached on a loop from his pocket. Five of them I recognize as car keys. Once he gets the right key, he slides it in the lock and twists it, opening the door. "This wasn't a part of the plan," I say.

"I know," he says. "But if we're really going to be in a fake-relationship and make it look real, we have to spend some time together."

"That's what the barbeque is for, right?" I ask.

"Correction," he says. "One-on-one time. Make yourself at home."

He pulls me into his home, which is nothing like the outside. The outside is clearly Italian, whereas the inside is a complete bachelor pad. The black leather couches, the dim lighting, the oddly-shaped side tables, twisted lamps, the muted color scheme, Playboy magazines scattered here and there… typical Hollywood rich guy, which is expected I guess.

"I'll get dinner, I guess." he picks up the phone. "You still like pineapple on your pizza right?"

"You don't need to get dinner…"

"Please, it's the least I can do. It's only in Cali where the pizza guy can get here faster than an ambulance," he grins. "Sit down, turn on the TV, pick out a movie… it's just you and me tonight. It's all good."

Before I can really control myself, I plop down on the couch as I listen to Chad order pizza. I grab the remote, turn on the TV, and start movie searching on Netflix. By the time the pizza's delivered and Chad grabs us some sodas from the kitchen, I've settled on The Last Song as my movie choice.

I don't really know how it all happens, but I end up finishing two pieces of pizza, with a blanket on Chad and me, and my head resting on his chest. But I don't care. Because, for the first time in forever, I feel like I've finally found the solution to all my problems.

~.~.~.~.~.~

So there it was! Long chapter, I know. I'll try to make it a tad shorter next time. I tried for a little Channy, and I promise there will be more in the future. I guess I can only be so creative at 2 in the morning. Remember to tell me what you think my reviewing!(:

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate it!(: