Title: This Isn't Hollywood

Summary: Three weeks vacation in Hawaii, two famous teenagers and one twist of fate. The stupid rivalry is out of sight and out of mind, emotions are becoming harder to deny and this isn't Hollywood...

Authors Note: So I'm soooo sorry it took me so long to get this out to all you guys! Summer took over and then there was a period where my beta couldn't get to reading and correcting all my mistakes, so it's just been a long period of absence. Hopefully I'll be a lot better at this from now and you'll get a chapter a lot sooner than you got this! Linsi was convinced that everyone would love it, so here's to hoping she's right! Please review, and tell me what you think. I'll get started on the next chapter right now!

Disclaimer: See previous chapters, because I've got nothing witty for the disclaimer right now.

We are bound by all the rest

Like the same phone number

All the same friends

And the same address

Yes, its true, I am happy to be stuck with you

Yes, its true, I'm so happy to be stuck with you

Stuck With You - Huey Lewis & the News

I manage to avoid both Sonny and my mom for the next few hours, somehow finding myself on the Lahaina Historic Trail and pretending to be interested in the history of the neighborhood (yeah, right, like I care about anything historic) while really trying to figure out what I'm going to do when I get back to the hotel. No doubt my mom will have something to say about my disappearing act (she had promised to hunt me down, had she not?) and Sonny… well. Maybe it's a good thing that Sonny promised not to speak to me for the entirety of the vacation, because I'm sure that my mom's little outburst would haunt me for the next three weeks otherwise. But the trail comes to an end, and while - in normal circumstances - I would've been more than relieved that the history lesson was over, I still don't have any bright ideas about how I'm going to talk my way out of the predicament that my mom (and Sonny, really, because if she hadn't been hot then I wouldn't have noticed) has gotten me into. So (and I can't believe I'm forced to stoop this low) I walk back around to the start of the trail and go through it again. Yes. Really.

After three times around and still no ideas, I resign myself to my fate and start trudging back to the hotel at around 4:30pm, hands in my pockets and gaze firmly on the sidewalk.

The morning's events keep running through my head, like a video on loop. Sonny in that yellow bikini… my mom in her hideous sarong… "stop gawking at that girl!"… It all seems totally surreal. But it happened. There is no denying the facts; Sonny is hot, my mom hates me and I will never be able to think about the So Random(!) girl without thinking of that moment ever again.

I make sure the coast is clear before turning the corner into the hotel, increasing my pace as I push my way through the revolving door and speed-walk over to the elevator. This - obviously - is the most dangerous part of my mission (I'm sorry, what do you mean? What mission? Duh! Mission Get Back To My Hotel Room Without Mom Or Sonny Seeing Me And Mentioning Certain Things!) and I need to be very careful about how I handle things… whether Sonny's cousin is working, for one. Or whether the lobby is the hangout spot for both of my TBA (To Be Avoided) parties.

Not even stopping to see whether anyone was recognizing me, I dodge my way past people in the lobby and, in record time, stop in front of the elevator, pressing the button in a swift motion. The arrow pointing up glows red and I can hear the mechanics in the elevator shaft start up, bringing the lift down to me. Almost there…

The instant the doors open, I slide inside and punch the button for the 6th floor. A pinging noise sounds, telling me that the elevator has recognized where I want to go, and I lean my head back and sigh with relief as the doors begin to creep closed. Almost back to the room without trouble.

Almost.

"Wait!" A hand flies in between the closing doors and - like in all elevators - the mechanisms release, allowing the doors to open again and preventing the crushing of the person so impatient that they couldn't wait for the next ride. And, while I'd usually only be mildly annoyed at this impromptu interruption in my otherwise peaceful journey from the ground floor to the sixth, the person stumbling into the elevator (she hasn't yet noticed it's me) is one of the two people on my TBA list. So much for avoidance.

"That was close, huh?" She says with a chuckle, before turning her head to look at her company properly. Her face twists almost instantly, into an expression that I can't quite read. "Oh. It's you."

I fold my arms and turn my body to face straight ahead, at the doors that are closing uninterrupted this time. If I don't look at her, I can't think about how hot she is, right? Uh-huh. "Yeah. It's me. And I'd just like to say that I so told you that you'd be the one to crack first."

"Believe me, Chad. If I'd known that it was you in here, then I wouldn't have said a word as I got in."

I cock an eyebrow, unable to resist glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. "But you'd have still gotten the elevator to stop for you?"

"Eh, I breathe the same air as you day in day out; if I had a problem with the thought of spending thirty seconds in your presence then I'd probably need to consider a different job. As it happens, I have no qualms about standing in an elevator with you for thirty seconds. It's your jerkish comments that I could do without," she says, coolly.

Opening my mouth to reply, I realize that I have no quick reply ready (dammit, why does that always happen to me when Sonny Munroe is involved?) and so close it just as quickly.

"Besides," she adds, and even out of the corner of my eye I can see the look of amusement on her face. "I would've thought by your actions today, you'd have jumped at the chance to - what was it? - gawk some more?"

As much as I desperately want to, I can't control the blush that makes its way over my cheeks (there's obviously something wrong here; Chad Dylan Cooper does not blush) and this obviously adds to Sonny's amusement; her small smile widens to gives me that impression. I'm just about to reply with what I'm sure will be a pathetic attempt at a witty comeback when a horrible grinding noise comes from outside the elevator and - my stomach sinks - it actually stops.

Silence passes between us, even though the conversation wasn't at a natural finishing point, and I hold my breath, praying that it starts up again. Come on. Come on…

When nothing happens, I turn to look at Sonny properly and see that the smile has been wiped off her face and replaced with a look of sheer panic.

Ha! Not so witty now, are we?

"We can't be at the sixth floor yet, can we?" She says, her voice shaking a little and I feel kind of guilty about my last thought.

Reaching out, I press my finger to another of the buttons, hoping that will dislodge the elevator from where it got stuck or make it go again. It doesn't.

I stand up straight and shift my weight a little, jumping up and down, in the hope that it'll start it's ascend to the sixth floor again. It doesn't.

I press all of the buttons, praying that giving it a whole bunch of destinations will make it choose at least one and start it going again. It doesn't.

Finally, I take two strides over to the elevator door and bang on it, wondering if anyone can hear us or if we're stuck in limbo between two floors.

"Can anyone hear me? Can someone please get us out of this elevator? I'm Chad Dylan Cooper and I promise to make it worth your - "

"Shut up, Chad," Sonny says, her voice still quivering. She hasn't moved since the grinding noise and even with the terrible lighting in this confined space, I can still tell she's gotten a whole lot paler. "Just… stop yelling."

Folding my arms, I walk back over to her and shrug over-exaggeratedly. "If I don't yell, how do you propose we get out of here, Munroe? Magic? You'll say abracadabra and suddenly the elevator will start moving again? It's stuck! We're stuck! And if I don't keep yelling to alert people to the fact that we're in here, we may never get out."

She swallows - loudly - and shakes her head lightly, her gaze not on me (was she crazy?) but fixed on the closed metal doors instead. "Don't say that. We're not… we have to get out of here. We're not stuck. It'll probably start moving again in a couple seconds. It's just…"

"Just what?" I ask, my tone possibly progressing to the point of cruelty. "Resting? Face it, Munroe. This elevator is stuck. And we're just going to have to wait for someone to realize and call the fire department. I just hope that they're as efficient here as they are back in LA, because I do not want to be stuck in this confined - "

I don't get chance to finish my sentence, because at the word 'confined' Sonny lets out a little whimper, backing into the handrail that lines the walls. Wrinkling my nose, I study her face properly and can tell right away that this isn't acting. She's from Chuckle City; acting as scared as she looks would probably be way beyond her talents (even if I did fall for her sprained ankle at that stupid musical chairs thing…). For some reason, Sonny Munroe is terrified of being in this elevator. And my stomach sinks as I figure out what, potentially, it is that she's terrified of.

"C'mon, Munroe. You don't have to be scared," I say, hoping that I sound like I care. I mean, I do care - I don't exactly want her to be scared - but sometimes I don't have the best of luck when it comes to sounding sincere. "I guess I kind of get it…"

The girl in front of me looks up into my eyes, the look of fear being replaced by one of confusion. "You do?"

I nod, reaching out slowly and thinking twice (question: is patting her on the shoulder going too far with the whole caring thing?) before I let my hand rest on her shoulder. "Yeah. It's totally understandable. I mean - " I take a deep breath, letting my own shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "I know what the papers say about me, but most of it is completely untrue. I'm not a monster, and there is no way that I'd try anything on you when we're stuck in an elevator. Don't worry about it."

Her face goes blank as she processes what I'm saying and I literally have no time to react as her Converse sneaker stomps down hard on my foot.

"Ow!" I jump away from her, instinctively reaching to clutch my now injured foot. "What the hell was that for?"

"I'm not scared because I think you're capable of rape, Chad! As it happens, I don't think you are capable of anything near as bad as rape and even if you were, you hate me, so I highly doubt you'd 'try it on', or whatever you just said! My God, the world does not revolve around you! People can feel happy or sad or mad or scared without you having anything to do with it, you know!" She cries, the fear temporarily replaced with her anger at me - though I'm still not quite sure it was totally deserved. Why else would she be scared?

Wiggling my toes around without taking off my shoe (I don't think any bones were broken or any permanent damage had been caused, which was a very good thing seeing as I didn't have foot insurance) I look back over at her and scoff. "Fine, Miss Hammertoe. What are you trembling in your high-tops about?"

She shrugs and resumes her position leaning against the wall, as though it's the only thing holding her up. Which, come to think of it, it might be. "I just don't really like…" Trailing off, her gaze falls to the floor and she fixes her eyes on the hideous mauve carpet that obviously didn't cost the designer a large sum of money.

"You just don't really like what?" I ask, keeping my distance this time. There is no way I'm getting another dead foot. The next blow could be fatal. To… my feet. Fatal to my feet and only my feet.

Again, she mutters something that I can barely hear and I cup my hand around my ear, leaning my upper body closer to her (my legs stayed right where they were; she was dangerous!). "Say what now?"

Sonny sighs and, realizing that she's both stuck in an elevator without an escape route and that I'm not going to give up asking until I find out the answer, she looks me in the eye and replies. "Confined spaces. I'm alright with them for a few minutes, like a typical elevator journey, but any more than that…"

Oh. Well. That makes sense. Kinda. Except not… really. She's in confined spaces all the time in her line of work; how can she be scared of them?

"What about planes?"

"I'm okay with planes." She says, shrugging.

"Aren't planes just as confined as this is?" I ask, frowning.

"I can't explain it, Chad! I'm fine with planes, I'm not fine with stuck elevators!" She closes her eyes and slides down the wall of the elevator, coming to rest in a sitting position on the floor.

I look down at her, taking a moment to consider why it was that even after a day in the sea, Sonny's hair was still looking pretty good. If I'd gone in the water, my hair would have probably been terrible, but the So Randomer sitting down in front of me was doing pretty well at maintaining good hair.

Wait. What the heck am I thinking? She may be hot, but I still don't care.

"Right. Well…" I look around lamely, as though some sort of resolution to the situation we were now both in (it was totally going to affect me if she started hyperventilating on me because she couldn't stand the enclosed space) was going to appear out of thin air. "I don't really know how to… help."

She lifts her head and opens her eyes, looking at me as though I've grown an extra head. "Why would you want to help?"

"Because, Munroe, if you die because you're panicking and can't breathe and then this elevator starts moving again and turns up in the lobby with a very much alive person and a corpse in it, there may be speculation and rumors. And I don't want to be associated with that," I say quickly.

Laughing, Sonny raises her eyebrows. "Yet you're okay with being practically accused of rape by the tabloids?"

My face falls and while I try to cover it up by rolling my eyes, I know she saw my immediate reaction. "Of course I'm not. But I'm Hollywood's 'bad boy'; what choice do I have? They're gonna say what they want…"

She rolls her eyes and lets her gaze slide to the heavy metal doors. "Everyone has a choice. If you don't want to be Hollywood's bad boy - and, to be honest, I can't see why anyone would… apart from James, maybe - then you don't have to be. You totally tried to fix your image when you sabotaged my interview. Why did you stop?"

"I… I don't actually think I ever really started. It just looked like I did," I say, only working the answer to that question out seconds before the words leave my lips. "You said it yourself, after all; I sabotaged your interview with Santiago to try and fix my image which, in itself, isn't helping to improve my image."

Sonny connects her brown eyes with mine and smiles. The corners of her eyes crinkle in the way that only a genuine grin can make them and a really odd feeling washes over me. Even odder than the 'Sonny is hot' revelation earlier. "Chad Dylan Cooper, you're a total oxymoron."

"I guess so." I admit, shrugging slightly as I continue looking down at her, trying to work out what is happening to me. Why am I suddenly noticing every little thing about Sonny, from the way she smiles to the color of her eyes (which are like, the perfect shade of brown, by the way)? Why do I get this odd feeling in the pit of my stomach when she shoots me a grin? And why am I overanalyzing all of these things?

A silence passes between us and I take the opportunity to mentally kick myself. This is not how it's supposed to be. I am not supposed to be made to feel out of my depth whenever I'm around a cast member of So Random! for God's sake. Because I am Chad Dylan Cooper and the part of my brain that's causing that odd feeling in my stomach would do well to remember that at this very moment in time.

The silence is broken by a loud beeping noise coming from the control panel of the elevator (I think that's where it's coming from anyways). Sonny's head shoots up and the panic alights in her eyes once again as she tries to work out why, exactly, the beeping is occurring (well, I'm assuming she's trying to work that out, because that's what I'm doing and it seems to be the logical thing to do).

"Why is it making that noise?" She asks, obviously unable to come to a conclusion on her own.

Without thinking, I shrug and answer immediately. "Dunno."

I don't even have chance to revel in the fact that I was actually able to answer a question put to me by Sonny Munroe without having to overanalyze the answer, because the whimper that leaves her lips seconds after my reply echoes around the small space is nothing to celebrate about. She's actually petrified.

"I'm sure it's just some sort of warning signal," I say quickly, trying to come up with some sort of story that sounds both reassuring and realistic at the same time.

"A warning signal?" She mutters, her eyes still fixed firmly on the silver panel in the wall. "Like… a warning to the people stuck in the elevator that it's going to dislodge in thirty seconds and they're going to die?"

Oh boy.

Swiftly taking a seat next to her on the floor (I cannot believe I'm actually sitting on this hideous carpet - who knows what could be all over it?) I shake my head and try to think quickly. "Don't be stupid. A warning signal to the janitor of this hotel, telling him that the elevator is stuck. Or it's beeping as a sign that it's resetting itself and we'll be moving again any second."

"Yeah," she mutters - under her breath, though I'm sitting real close to her, so she might as well have yelled it - darkly. "Moving as we fall to our deaths."

I can't help it; I laugh. The fact that Sonny Munroe is being so… not-optimistic about this whole situation is just too weird and, consequently, quite funny. Well, that and the fact that, if you'd asked me only a few minutes ago, I'd have said if Sonny and I got stuck in an elevator, we'd have probably killed each other before we could fall to our deaths.

"It's not funny, Chad!" She turns to me, her voice outraged at my laughter. She obviously hadn't had the mental picture I'd had.

"It's a little bit funny, Munroe. Think about it: I'm surprised we've both managed to stay alive this long. I know a bunch of people who would have actually bet on us killing each other as opposed to being killed by an elevator explosion."

My words sunk in and I could see that even she was fighting not to smile, and was trying to cover up the turning up of her lips by rolling her eyes.

"My last few moments on Earth are stuck in a confined space with Chad Dylan Cooper. I must've done something terrible in a previous life, huh?"

Chuckling slightly, I shrug. "See, I'd have said you must've done something great. A lot of people would love their last moments to be with me."

Sonny nudges me lightly with her elbow and I turn to look at her properly, her brown eyes connecting with mine instantly and I don't want to look away.

"A lot of crazy people."

"Don't say that where they can hear you; those girls can be wild. If you manage to get out of here alive, they'll be on your case for calling them crazy."

"I'll take my chances," she grins. "I think I could take them on."

I raise an eyebrow, painting a skeptical expression on my face. "Oh, really? You do?"

"Uh-huh." She nods, vigorously. "What? You don't believe me?"

Pretending to look her up and down (we're both sitting down, it's a fairly impossible move to actually perform) I hesitate for a few seconds and then shake my head. "All - what? 100 pounds? - of you could take on a whole horde of crazy fan-girls? I don't think so."

"Psht," she says, waving a hand in the air and allowing an air of self-confidence to wash over her. "Don't be underestimating me, Chad Dylan Cooper. I might be 100 pounds, but I know karate."

Is she for real? I can't really tell, and she knows. She knows from my lack of speaking that I'm not 100 percent sure whether she is a martial arts wonder or not.

Examining her face, I look for any signs that she's telling a huge great lie. It's perfectly straight, it seems, apart from a little glint in her eyes that wasn't there when I was admiring (ugh) the color a few moments ago.

Scoffing, I shake my head again, breaking our eye contact. "Yeah, right. Sonny Munroe doing karate."

She sighs, before laughing lightly. "What gave me away?"

I look sideways at her, seeing her small smile out of the corner of my eye. "Dunno. It was like I could just tell. Plus I just couldn't imagine you taking on Jackie Chan at karate. It didn't fit in my imagination at all."

"That doesn't say much," she laughs again, nudging me in the side with her unusually sharp elbows. "I mean, your imagination can't have much capacity room, what with your ego taking up most of the space in your head."

Oh, ouch. Placing a hand over my heart, I fake a hurt expression. "Oh wow, kudos. That was a good one, Munroe. Hurt me deep."

"Well, I try," she says, matching my hurt look with one of immense pride.

The silence passes between us again, but it's not like the last one. The alarm thing is still going off, for one (although I didn't really notice it all that much in the duration of mine and Sonny's banter) but we'd actually just had a proper conversation. Like, I don't know… like friends would. There'd been little off-the-rail comments, but it had been… fun.

The beeping suddenly ceases and the silence becomes more evident than before. I rack my brains for something to say; something that can bring back the type of conversation we just had. Ahhh, where is my backup supply of witty conversation starters when I need it?

Leaning my head back against the wall of the elevator and rolling it so that I can see Sonny more clearly, I notice that she's got her eyes closed and that her lips are moving, as though she's speaking without actually forming words. I'm not the best at lip reading so I can't make out what, exactly, she's saying. So, obviously, the only way I'm going to find out is by asking.

"What are you doing?"

Her eyes snap open and she rolls her head to look at me; subconsciously mirroring the action that I'd done seconds previously. "I was singing. Just… not out loud. To myself. To try and take my mind away from the fact that I'm trapped in an elevator. And okay, that sounded lamer out loud than it did in my head."

"I didn't know you sang," I say, ignoring her comment about how lame she sounded.

It's true; I didn't. And surely, when you've spent almost every day working on the same studio lot as someone, you find out facts like whether they sing or not. You do, right?

Sonny wrinkles her nose at me, as though she'd read my mind and thinks otherwise. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Chad."

I open my mouth to respond, but suddenly there's a awful crunch of gears winding their way into place (though, for a second both Sonny and I think that her hypothesis of plunging to our deaths while trapped in an elevator is about to come true - she grabs my hand and puts it in a death grip, so I'm sure to have the bruise for proof) and, slowly, the elevator begins its ascent once again.

She lets out an audible sigh of relief and then grins at me. "Looks like we won't be dying today, huh?"

"Let's wait until we get safely to the sixth floor before we assume that, okay?"

Sonny laughs, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, okay. Wait, you're on the sixth floor too?"

"Uh-huh," I nod, forgetting that I hadn't exactly informed her of that tidbit of information. To be honest, I'd spent a hell of a lot of time arguing/discovering she was hot/trying to stop her freaking out over being claustrophobic and so the thought of telling her we were staying on the same floor never really crossed my mind. Sue me.

"Wow." Raking a hand through her hair (which is a little bit greasy - although, annoyingly, that doesn't make her look any less… ugh I need to stop thinking) she mutters, almost as though she's forgotten that I can hear her. "The planets obviously wanted to throw us together this vacation." Then (obviously she remembers that I have ears and that we're in an enclosed space) her head shoots up and a light blush comes over her cheeks. "I mean… ugh, you know what I mean. A lot of coincidences, is all."

"Yeah," I nod, not really in the mood to poke fun at her about the connotations of the first sentence. I don't think I really want to go there anyway… "Yeah, Sonny. I know what you mean."

Sonny's face changes almost instantly; her nose screws up in a way that I'm sure can only be cute on her, and her eyebrows slide closer together as she frowns, but her eyes soften and there's a trace of a smile in the very corners of her lips.

"What?" I ask, getting ready to stand up, as the elevator pings to let us know we've arrived at our destination - albeit a lot later than planned.

"You… you called me Sonny," she says, quietly and after a hesitation, as though she's not sure whether she should tell me at all.

I raise my eyebrows, pressing the palms of my hands to the floor and using them to push myself up into a standing position, so that I'm looking down on her once again. The doors slide open behind me, but I wouldn't have noticed them were it not for the grating noise they made as they parted. "That is your name, is it not?"

"No… yeah. Yeah, it's my name but… you've never… said it like that before." Her voice trails off at the end of the sentence, so that the last few words are barely audible, but her eyes - which had followed me as I'd stood up - were still firmly interlocked with mine as she looked up at me. "I mean, you've called me by my name before, but it's usually just 'Munroe' or 'Sonny Munroe'…"

I shrug, still not really sure what the big deal is (though I want to know what she meant by that first comment…). "Yeah, well sometimes I mix it up a little. Just to keep you on your toes."

She looks as though she's about to say something else - maybe a longer explanation of what, exactly, she'd meant by 'never said it like that before' because that's what's puzzling me - but obviously decides against it and pushes herself up to join me in standing up. Her eyes stay locked with mine for a few seconds and, unlike the usual battles of blue and brown, there's something different. Something changed in her eyes in that elevator, and I can't pinpoint what.

"Ah, sweet freedom!" Sonny cries, turning away from me with a smile and stepping out onto the landing, skipping a little way up the hall. "If this floor weren't so dirty, I could kiss it."

"Whatever strikes your fancy, Munroe," I say, slipping my card key from my pocket and tapping the palm of my hand with it as I try and decide whether a goodbye would be appropriate, or whether come tomorrow we'd be back to not speaking. Honestly, I can't quite decide which I'd like best at this moment in time. My head is kind of reeling.

She seems to be thinking the same thing, because there's suddenly an awkward mood in the air around us.

Uhh…

"So… which one's yours?" Sonny asks, clearing her throat before cutting through the layer of awkward. Or attempting to, at least.

Gesturing to a door further up the hall, I shrug. "616."

"Oh. I'm 611."

I nod, trying to look less interested than I am in this information. "Oh. Cool."

"Yeah…" Sonny says, elongating the word so that it stretches around us, trying to keep the conversation going. Trying to bring back that feeling of friendship that had been present in the elevator. Stretching around us to try and squeeze us closer together, just like Sonny had said the "planets" had wanted us to be on this vacation.

It doesn't succeed.

"Well… I'd better be going. I said I'd… call my mom and I'm way late in doing that, so…" she says, looking down at the carpet in the halls (which, FYI, are just as - if not more - horrible as the ones in the elevator) and hovering outside the door to her room.

I nod in understanding, backing away to the door to my own room. "Yeah… you should go do that."

She looks up from the floor and lets her eyes connect with mine one more time, offering me a genuine smile as she slides the card into the door without even looking at what she's doing. And then, without so much as a goodbye, she's slipping inside and enclosing herself in the four walls, shutting me out in the process.

I mimic her actions and let myself into my own room, shutting the door quietly behind me and leaning up against it, like they do in all the movies.

Funny. Right now, my life feels more like a movie than it ever has before. And, for an actor, that's a weird concept. Life imitates art, that's for sure. Or… maybe it's the other way around.