Whenever Sam lies down at night, in that in-between land just before sleep sets in, she can smell him. It's a mixture of the body wash he uses, bleach, and (for reasons she can't figure out) cedar chips.

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Throughout the next six months of his life, Freddie is involved in more 'first kiss' conversations than he thought possible. Sam would always stick with her Cuttlefish Concert story; Freddie (eventually) made one up about going to visit his mom's friend in Tacoma and her hot daughter. Of course, the two cannot help but share a secret glance before they start their lies.

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"Mom!" Freddie shouted when he saw his mom boarding up the window that lead to the fire escape. "What are you doing!?"

Marissa had never seen her son as upset as she explained that the old fire escape system was out of code and was being replaced.

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Sam thinks his voice is the most relaxing sound in the world; despite his wrath about her falling asleep in the middle of him practicing a speech for Mrs. Briggs's class, she could never bring herself to tell him.

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It's like every time Freddie turns on the radio that song is on, and Carly can't understand why Freddie, trying to hit the next button on the PearPod, nearly caused Spencer to drive into the telephone pole.

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It's like every time Sam turns on the radio that song is on. Carly can't understand why Sam just wouldn't stop screaming and banging her head on the window until the radio was turned off. Her excuse? There was a bee.

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Freddie, whose nights are usually filled with brown eyes and "Do you, Carly, take this man, Freddie," has one recurring dream about Sam. He's driving down the freeway at a hundred miles an hour, straight towards the edge of a cliff. When he goes to slam on the brakes, he's suddenly in the passenger's seat, her hair is flying in his face, and all he can hear is her laughter as they careen off the edge of the cliff.

When Freddie wakes up, all he can smell is her- baked ham, citrus, and sugar.

A/N- Quote in the summary is from Michel de Montaigne.

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