Part II

"Once you browse through the whole selection, shake those hips in my direction"

--Zac Efron, "Ladies Choice"

"This isn't what it looks like."

Chad didn't move. He looked like a gold fish--his eyes going big and then shutting for a second, only to fly open again for a few more unfocused blinks. The only thing missing was a trail of bubbles escaping his mouth.

I smiled my classic oops-smile and slumped my shoulders in embarrassment. Being positioned horizontally between a picture frame and a potted plant didn't help.

"You mean you're not stuck in my window?"

"Um, well, I am. But see—I can totally explain." I rambled on a-mile-a -minute about how I needed my phone and Murphy had the day off and then the vent wouldn't open…

Chad looked uncomfortable and tightened his gripped on the edge of his towel.

"Yeah, I guess this story doesn't really make sense unless you're in my brain." I sighed. "Could you just help pull me out?"

Chad took a step backwards. "I think I'll put on some clothes first."

I'd never seen him this flustered. I would've relished it a little more but somehow (being swept up in explaining myself) I'd forgotten for a second about his utter lack of clothing. o.O Remembering now, blood rushed to my face. His chest was pale pink, a side-effect probably from the hot shower water. I could feel my pulse escalating. "Oh right!" I said, and then scolded myself for sounding like a check-it-out girl. "I'll close my eyes."

His gaze shifted nervously. "I'll just change in the bathroom." Grabbing a random pile of clothes (not the lumberjack shirt, sadly :-( ), he retreated safely out of visual range.

Drumming my fingers on the wallpaper, I waited. My other end was getting cold from facing the elements. Hollywood nights can be quite chilly, believe it or not. I was wondering what would happen if Mr. Mean-Security-Man decided to make his rounds on this side of the building, when Chad came back in the room.

He looked at me and smirked. Apparently his wardrobe contributed to his confidence, and being dressed again brought back Chad's usual level of smugness. I can't really hold it against him; it's part of his charm.

"All right, how do you want do this?" He was trying not laugh now, which meant every word came out with a half-smile. Jerk.

"I think pulling is better than pushing. I don't want to end up outside again."

He nodded and reached under me, one hand on each side of my ribcage.

"Whoa, whoa now. Watch those hands."

He laughed and tried holding me otherwise. It was really awkward. I was so going to need Tylenol tonight.

"You know," he said, trying to adjust positions, "for a second I thought I was being Punk'd. That Ashton was hiding in the closet or something."

I scoffed. "But then you realized this is everyday normal in the life of Sonny Monroe."

"Exactly."

I was a messy stack of limbs, refusing to budge from my position in the wall. He might need to follow Rabbit's example and start decorating around me. Maybe with the help of a large frame, I could be mistaken for a kind of 3-D art, a Sonny-version of decoupage. I guess life as wall art could have its perks; sitting through Chad Dylan Copper's wardrobe changes would be interesting. Though he'd probably set up a screen.

Sensing that I wasn't going to be much help (yes, I know how pathetic I am. Let's see how optimistic you are after getting stuck in a window), Chad stepped even closer to me. He wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled forcefully, repositioning my hips around so that I could climb out.

Solid ground was nice to touch. But so was Chad Dylan Cooper.

He smelled like Dove soap. Yum. And he was still fairly wet, his shirt feeling damp against my neck.

I pulled away before he did, untangling my arms from their position around his shoulders.

A strand of blonde hair covered his left eye. I reached up and brushed it away, smoothing it against the rest of his wet hair. I wiped my wet fingers on the sleeve of his shirt and, awkwardly realizing how intimate that gesture was, bent down to shake the (nonexistent) dust off my skirt. "Thanks Chad," I said, the words coming out too fast. "I appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it, Sonny." His smirk was back. "I know you were just trying to get a peek of me coming out of the shower."

I rolled my eyes. "I think you're confusing my fantasies with yours."

He paused for a moment. "That is a possibility."

I let that comment go, shaking my head and heading towards the door. I'd get my phone and this would all be over. No more getting tangled up in honey trees for me. I was two feet into the hallway when I realized something. I backtracked, sticking a head in Chad's room.

"Uh, Chad? "

He looked up from fixing the stuff I'd knocked over on his window sill.

"I'm gonna need a ride home."

He laughed. "Sure."

-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-

bonus scene (my cross between a deleted scene and an epilogue):

Two minutes later I was searching my dressing room for that infamous phone. Where was that thing? The VIP pass was right on the desk, like I remembered. But my phone was gone. I tried mentally cataloguing where I'd had it last. Nothing.

I seriously need to start upping my Gingko biloba.

I made my way back to Chad's room. Walking in, I made myself comfortable. He was blow drying his hair.

"Chad?"

The dryer stopped. "Make it quick. This hair flip doesn't happen by magic."

I gasped loudly. "You've destroyed all my illusions."

I could hear his smirk without seeing it.

"Can I use your phone?" I asked, looking for it among his junk: A surprising number of non-school related books stacked up in piles—among them Catcher in the Rye and A Separate Peace. Two berry-themed fruit baskets and an assortment of hair products.

"Go for it," he said, starting up the dryer again.

I finally found his phone, hiding behind a banana in the second basket. I called my number, intending to check my messages. I was pleasantly surprised to see he had my name in his address book.

Mooo. Mooo.

I froze. The dryer stopped.

Mooo. Mooo. Mooo.

Turning towards the sound, I grabbed for the lumberjack shirt as Chad came fumbling into the room.

I looked at him, aghast. Opening the shirt pocket, I pulled out my missing phone. I tried to look scary. "What is this?"

"Um, I can explain." Chad said, looking very guilty. I imagined a five year old him with a red ring around his mouth, explaining to his mom why her strawberries were missing. His eyes got big. "It's not what you think."

It was my turn to smirk. "You mean you didn't take my phone."

"Well, I did. But there's a completely rational explanation for it." He regained some composure, looking like he was deciding between two embarrassing choices. "I'm just not going to tell it to you."

"What?" I was laughing outright now. I should've been mad. But after the night I'd had—I'd be a hypocrite not to cut him some slack. Plus, I couldn't get that image of him as a little kid out of my head.

"I'm giving you a ride home, there's no arguing about this. You owe me one."

"If you hadn't taken my phone, I wouldn't need a ride home."

"Huh. Point taken." He retreated to the bathroom again, officially dropping the subject altogether.

I sat down on the couch and picked up a book, smiling to myself. It was all right. He didn't need to tell me. It'd come out eventually.

Note: There, it's done. In two-shot's like I promised. And only one day late. :) Hope you like it.