It's later that night, and Sonny is cuddled up on a certain couch in a certain house with a certain jerkthrob's arm around her.
"I know your secret," he whispers as the credits roll on the movie they've just watched.
Sonny giggles. "Chad, you are the secret."
"Hm, no, not that one."
"Which one, then?"
"I know…that you wanted this all along, since the first day in the commissary."
"Oh, please. Why else would you be so upset when I ruined your picnic? Or so disappointed that I was just using you that day you spent at the Falls?"
"Oh, really," she replied, twisting to face him. "I think you're the one with the secret. Need I mention…Weird Beard? The prom? Look-out Mountain?"
"Maybe I wanted you to figure it out."
"Well, maybe I was waiting for someone to make the first move."
"Well, I did, didn't I?
"Hmph, took you long enough. Maybe we should try not having secrets anymore—and just be honest with what we want from each other."
"Sounds good to me."
"Well, that's…a good start."
"What can I say? Honesty's a great policy."
It took a few minutes—okay, several minutes—for Sonny to have a chance to agree.
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