Totally Unedited and written at 1 in the morning. Enjoy(:
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"Come! On! Move!" I hear Carly groan upstairs. I've been hearing loud bangs and yelling going on up there for a while. They have yet to come down since heading up over fifteen minutes ago.
I glance at my watch. 8:25.
Sighing, I turn back to the TV and try to tune out all the cursing and loud crashes(probably Sam throwing things) and just enjoy relaxing on someone else's couch.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sam's POV
"Hell no!" I exclaim.
"Sam, come on. It's not that bad."
Carly tries to reason with me.
"Absolutely not. I cannot go down there in this pink nightmare!" I tell her.
"Why not? You care that much about what Freddie thinks of you?" She asks, challenging me.
I bite my lip.
"Noo, but.." I can't think of a way to finish my sentence.
"Exactly."she says. "So get your butt down those stairs and stop breaking everything in my room."
Glancing around, there's a shattered vase laying next to her bed, a goldfish bowl that, thankfully, was empty lying cracked on its side, and a large dent in the wall next to the door from someone punching and kicking the plaster angrily.
Carly grabs my hair and pulls me out the door. I try to resist again and she groans.
"Come! On! Move!" She grunts out, each word accentuating each heaving shove that feels like an any try to push me.
I roll my eyes and, after another minute or two, finally walk begin to walk down the stairs. Carly sighs heavily in relief.
"Announcing Ms. Samantha Puckett's arrival! She wears a shimmering pale pink short satin dress with short puffed sleeves." She yells in her "announcer's voice". I wince. It's bad enough to know I'm wearing this, but it's even worse hearing her repeat it and have to be reminded that I look like a wussy little daffodil.
Freddie is splayed out on the couch in front of the television, his expression bored. He glances over to me with a disinterested look before a wide-eyed shock enters his features and he gives me his full attention.
I roll my eyes and try not to projectile vomit all over the dress. It's that bad. It's difficult to keep it down but, somehow, I manage it.
"Woah," Freddie breathes. I feel my face grow warm and groan under my breath. Why am I blushing so easily these days? It's like my blood is attracted to this boy. I don't understand it. No part of me could ever really be attracted to Freddie, right? That'd be crazy, right?
'Right,' I tell myself.
You paused, the voice in my head mocks me. You do like him!
'No, I just was thinking,' I argue with myself.
Right, the voice says, sure you were. Why'd you have to think about it in the first place?
'Because..because..,' I try to think of an explanation but nothing comes to mind.
"I don't know," I murmur to myself aloud.
Carly and Freddie look at me funny and I just shake my head without giving them an answer to why I'm randomly talking to myself.
"Well? What do you think? Do you hate it as much as I do?" I ask him.
"No," he says, not taking his eyes off me.
He looks up at me and just stares into my eyes. We're ten feet away from each other but suddenly it feels like he's right in front of me. I stare back, trying to figure out what I'm feeling. I don't recognize this emotion.
"You hate it more than I do?" I ask, pushing away the weird fuzzy feelings and odd thoughts. "I don't think that's possible, buddy."
His warm chocolate eyes stare into mine.
"You're perfect." He says.
What? That was random.
"I mean, it's perfect. The dress. On you. It's... nice. Don't return that one." He corrects himself, stumbling over the words in a rush to get them out. I smile a little at his awkwardness.
"Your geek is showing, Benson," I tease him.
Freddie makes a face.
"Your inner daffodil is showing, Puckett," he counters.
"Nerd," I say, falling back into our old game.
"Demon."
"Wimp."
"Princess," he says snickering, looking me up and down with my princess-y dress on. I make a face at that one.
Then I pause and grin.
"Brunette," I call him, and he laughs.
"Brunette?"
"I couldn't think of another insult," I tell him, quoting his own words from the day this segment idea started. He smiles, realizing what I'm referring to, and chuckles.
Carly looks confused.
"Inside joke," I tell her.
"Blondie," he continues the game, smirking.
"Brunetto," I counter.
"No fair, you just said brunette," he whines.
"Brunetto is a different word than brunette." I insist.
He rolls his eyes but allows it.
"Neither of them is really an insult, though," he points out.
"Maybe I really don't like brunettes," I suggest.
He frowns.
"Do you?" He asks me, oddly serious.
"Sam loves when guys have dark hair and chocolate smoldering eyes. It's one of her turn ons." Carly cuts in, probably feeling left out. She's so used to us always turning to her for everything I think she's gotten a little too used to being the center of our little iCarly world.
"Carly!" I exclaim, outraged. She can't just tell him I basically am attracted to guys with his exact features and characteristics. It's, like, in the best friend rulebook or something!
Freddie just looks at me funny.
"What?" I ask, hoping he's having one of his stupid oblivious moments and doesn't connect the dots.
"...nothing," he finally says.
Okaaayyy. What's that supposed to mean?
I'm about to ask that very question when I realize that maybe I don't want to hear the answer. Maybe this question is better off left alone for now. At least until I decide what is going on in my head.
I let it go and Carly and I head back upstairs to try something else on.
This goes on for close to two hours until I finally put my foot down.
"Carly, I'm exhausted. Can we just finish this up tomorrow? Or, better yet, leave some as a surprise?" I beg, my eyelids drooping sleepily.
She huffs and stamps her foot.
"But we were almost to the best part!" She whines.
"Carls. I am tirrrrred. I want to sleep now."
"But-"
"Carly." Freddie cuts in. "Not that I'm not enjoying seeing Sam all dolls up and adorable, but this is getting ridiculous. It's almost ten o' clock. We have school tomorrow. Go to bed and we can finish this tomorrow afternoon, okay?" He slips his hand into my own and I jump slightly.
"You guys can sleep over at my place if you want since my mom's away," Freddie offers.
I bite my lip, remembering last time I slept over at his place. My stomach dances and flips with butterflies but Carls answers the question for me.
"No, we're both going to stay here tonight. We need to talk." Carly says with finality, turning to me.
"You're preggers, aren't you?" I say, straight faced.
"What?! No!" Carly yells."Where did that come from?"
"You said we needed to talk. It must be serious." I explain, laughing at her response. "Chill out cupcake, I was only joking."
"Shut up, you crazy teens, its the middle of the night!" Spencer yells from his bedroom.
"Its not even ten thirty yet!" Freddie yells back.
I feel the vibration from his loud booming yell through his hand. Wait, why is he still holding my hand?
I look down at the hand enveloping mine, before tracing it up to a muscular tanned arm connected to Freddie. Yup, that is his hand.
He peeks at me and catches me staring at him.
"Like what you see?" he asks playfully.
"No." I tell him. It's the truth. I don't like what I see. I don't just like what I see anyway.
I feel pleased when he looks disappointed.
"Come on Sam, lets go. You can see your boy later." She says, tugging me away, pulling my hand out of Freddie's in the process.
I'm so distracted by the cold feeling in my hand that I don't even notice until later that Carly called him my boy. And I didn't deny it or say anything. And neither did Freddie.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"We need to talk." Carly tells me.
"Um, okay. About what?" I ask.
"About anything. We haven't had a real proper sleepover in forever." She complains.
"Okay, well, lets go upstairs." I say, heading for the stairs.
"She makes a face at me.
"Oh no. You are not sleeping in my room after last time."
I groan.
"It was just a ferret! I forgot to put it back in the teacher's lounge for that prank!" I defend myself.
"It licked my face!" She yelled. "I could have gotten rabies!"
"Carly," I say giggling lightly at her statement.
She stops yelling and the mad look slowly melts away. After a moment, she starts laughing too. We're just too ridiculousness sometimes.
"We're so weird," she says, shaking her head and laughing quietly.
"You're weird. I'm normal," I insist.
"Riiighhht," she says, and stick her tongue out at me.
I stick mine out back at her and cross my eyes. She smiles and I get a feeling we're not going to go to bed anytime soon. I'm suddenly okay with that though.
We fall asleep later that night watching reruns of Girly Cow and talking about nothing and everything, I borrow pjs from her, and by the next morning, I feel like our friendship is even stronger than before.
And its a good thing too, because the next day, around four o' clock in the afternoon, I want to kill her.
I NEED TEN MORE VOTES ON THIS CHAPTER BEFORE I WILL UPDATE. SO VOTE!!! CUTE, FUNNY, SWEET, etc, COMMENTS WILL BE AWARDED WITH DEDICATIONS!!!!!!!!!!
~dustin the great~