Hi it's been years since I watched this program – I was only a kid when it was on, and there don't seem to be many episodes around any more so please excuse any errors in the detail. I have remembered it best I could but if I have made any mistakes please let me know.

Anyway, I was amazed at the lack of decent Clarissa/Sam fic on here so I thought I would give it a go and here is my attempt….

Clarissa's mother fussed over her, her fingers working deftly to ensure every curl was in place. The hands around her face made her feel claustrophobic and she batted them away,

"Mom, that's enough,"

Janet Darling sighed and relinquished her task,

"Now Clarissa, I know you're nervous – this is a big day for you – it's only natural. But try to enjoy it – you and Owen are so in love. Just make the most of it. I'll be waiting downstairs for you, the car should be here in a minute,"

With that, she swept from the room, pulling a tissue from the pocket of her lilac suit to wipe away the tears of pride that had sprung to her eyes.

Clarissa looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing the ivory silk of her full-skirted gown as she let out a shaky breath. She was back in her old bedroom for the first time in months, where her mom had been helping her prepare. Looking around she noted that not much had changed – the bed was where it had always been, the walls were the same colour – and yet everything had changed. It wasn't her room any more. She simply thought of it as the guest bedroom in her parents' house. The smell of the cherry blossom on the tree outside drifted in through the open window, momentarily making it feel like home.

She walked over and absently ran her hands over the sill. The marks where she had nailed the window shut were almost invisible. Her dad must've worked for hours to remove the nails that she had tearfully driven into the frame. Still, he never mentioned it, just like no one ever mentioned the fact that Sam didn't come over to visit her when they were on vacation from college any more.

Returning to the mirror, she applied a last slick of lip-gloss, wishing that she could paint on a smile just as easily. This was meant to be the happiest day of her life, dammit and she felt miserable, scared and alone. She tried to justify it to herself, 'every bride has doubts on their wedding day, it's only natural. Especially as things moved so fast between Owen and I'. They had met a little less than a year ago and now they were getting married already.

Clarissa had met Owen Jefferson during her final year at college. She couldn't believe her luck when she had got to New York to start her internship on the New York Times, only for the editor to tell her that her internship would only be part time, allowing her to go to college as well, all at the expense of the newspaper. During her internship, she had been on rotation through the departments, and it wasn't until her third year that she had come to work in the news team, where she had met Owen. He had helped her out, showed her the ropes and had seemed so confident, worldly-wise and sure of everything that when he'd asked her out for a drink at the end of her first day, it seemed as though she had little choice but to say yes. One drink turned into trips to the cinema, to lunches together at work, until the night she found herself in his apartment, after a bottle of wine, with his lips pressed against hers and a hand up her top fumbling for her bra strap.

It had felt almost as though she wasn't really there, as though she were floating above the scene, as an observer rather than an active participant. The feeling didn't go away the next morning, waking up naked with his arms around her or in the weeks and months after that, when he asked her to move in with him, when he proposed – it was always the same, she just drifted along, saying yes to everything he asked of her. It wasn't that he'd made it hard for her to say no, more that he made it so easy to say yes. He was so eager to please, and his voice was like oiled silk, persuading, cajoling, until she wasn't sure whether it was her or him that had suggested something. And he was so smooth, so sophisticated, even though he was only five years older than her, he seemed to always know best.

In short, he was the polar opposite of Sam, she grimaced as she adjusted her tiara and slipped on the white satin pumps she was wearing to get married in. She had wanted to wear her Converse boots under her dress but after she had talked it over with Owen, she realised it was time to leave all of her stupid childishness behind.

She was a child when she had met him - clumsy, gauche and inexperienced. And he had helped her become the poised, self-controlled young woman she was today. After all, when they'd met, she had only been drunk once, only made love once. Her eyelids flickered as she remembered that first time.

It was the beginning of the summer vacation before she had gone back to college for her final year. Her parents were out late and Ferguson was off somewhere – he had started going out mysteriously a lot recently around that time. She had heard the scrape and rattle of the ladder against the wall and grinned as Sam pushed his head up through the window. The years at college had treated Sam well – he had grown almost another foot and his soft youthful body had grown lean and muscular. Being the only boy at an all girls' college, he received a lot of female attention, although Clarissa noted it was rarely returned.

"Hey Clarissa,"

"Hey Sam, did you just get back today?"

"Yeah I had so much to do before I could come home. It was a real pain in the ass. Did you miss me?"

Clarissa pouted

"If by 'so much to do', you mean Mindy, or any other of the cheerleading squad, that isn't really good enough,"

"Oh come on don't be like that. Mindy sends her love by the way,"

Clarissa snorted in derision, doubting very much that Mindy would want to send her anything other than a cup of cold poison. Mindy was Sam's on-off girlfriend, who had taken almost as immediate a dislike to Clarissa, as Clarissa had to her.

Besides, I've got you a little present," Sam reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a bottle of tequila, smiling dangerously. Clarissa clapped her hands in delight. She had confided in Sam that she never really felt comfortable drinking at the frat parties where the girls seemed to either end up being sick, passed out, or felt up by random guys, sometimes all three.

Sam had been horrified and promised to introduce her to Mr Cuervo some time – his height and almost permanent five o clock shadow meant he had no trouble getting served anywhere.

Reaching across eagerly, she took a swing, wincing as the liquid burned her throat. It was only the sight of Sam, gentle laughter dancing in his eyes that made her swallow it. After a few more eye watering gulps, she felt slightly light headed and giggly. Sam pried the bottle out of her hands,

"That's enough now, you don't want to end up like those girls at college,"

"Oh, don't you want to feel me up then Sam, when I'm all drunk and defenceless," she laughed, batting her eyelids at him. A dark cloud flashed across Sam's handsome features but it was gone before she had time to question it.

"No," he muttered, "And I don't want anyone else to, so know your limit,"

He took a deep swig from the bottle, his eyes screwed up at the taste,

"When did you get so much older than me?" Clarissa asked, flopping back onto the bed.

He laughed, and lay down next to her. They talked and laughed for what seemed like hours, about when they were kids, about their futures. Sam wanted to be an architect and Clarissa a journalist, and it looked as though they were both going to be highly successful in their chosen fields.

Before long, Clarissa heard the door slam downstairs and the low sound of her parents' voices in the hall. She had changed into her pyjamas about an hour ago and the buzz of the alcohol had worn off, leaving her feeling relaxed and sleepy. She jumped off the bed and darted across the room to kill the lights so they wouldn't come in. Her parents might be pretty easy going but the sight of her, lying on the bed with the boy next door, wearing little more than a vest and shorts, with a half drunk bottle of tequila on the bedside table may have left them with something to say.

"Well I guess that's my cue to go," Sam whispered, pulling himself up slowly as Clarissa came to lie back down,

"No," she said, gripping his arm. She didn't know why she said it but as she saw his eyes widen in shock in the moonlight, she knew her were doing the same. He wavered, unsure of what to do. All it took was that moment of indecision for the atmosphere to change, for the room to become supercharged with the promise of something that vibrated and shimmered in the air between them.

Clarissa's hand left his arm and came up to tangle in his hair as he pressed his lips to hers with infinite tenderness. She could feel his hand trembling as he brushed it with feather light softness across her collarbone before sweeping her hair back over her shoulder.

Her hand worked inside his leather jacket, drawing him back down onto the bed to press his body against hers. They had kissed before but it had felt nothing like this. This kiss warmed her lips and sent tremors down her body that made her want to crush herself up against him.

Sam moved slowly, gently against her. They had to be quiet with her parents only a few metres away, although Clarissa was finding it harder and harder as his slow tender kisses ignited something in her that she had never felt before.

She slid his jacket off, followed quickly by his t-shirt, wanting the feeling of skin on skin,

"Are you sure?" he whispered into her ear. The tickle of his breath on her skin made her shiver

"Yes," she murmured against his lips. His hand moved tentatively over her ribs and she arched her back, desperate for his touch. When he ghosted his had over the soft curve of her breast, they both gasped at the feel of it. Aching for more direct contact, she slipped the thin vest over her head. Things were moving fast but she didn't care. She realised in that moment that she had been waiting her whole life for this, for her best friend to step up to the plate and become something more. A cool breeze drifted in through the window, causing her already aroused nipples to harden. Sam ran his hand across her breast, rolling her nipple between finger and thumb, causing her to moan lowly into his mouth.

"Shh," he giggled, She pulled away from him and moved up to straddle his hips. She felt the pressure of his hard cock in his jeans press up against her and it made her feel dizzy with desire. She couldn't help but to roll her hips against him, smiling in the dark at the way he hissed through his teeth in response to the friction. She fumbled at his belt buckle for a moment before he gently removed her shaking hands and undid it.

He repeated his question, to check she was sure she wanted to do this, and she could hear the concern in his voice. But she did though, more than she had ever wanted anything. As she moved aside so he could take his pants off, she felt his absence against her body and pulled him back into an embrace. With just the thin cotton of his boxers and her shorts separating them, she could feel him so much more against her now, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself crying out. She reached down, rubbing her hand over his hard cock through his boxers, taking in the feel of it. This was the first time she had touched a man's penis before – she had made out pretty heavily with a couple of guys at college but nothing like this. Sam gasped and whispered her name into her hair and the power that she held over him in that moment turned her on further still.

He slipped his hand down below the waistband of her shorts, between her legs to where she wanted him the most. They both groaned as they felt at the same time, how wet she was. At this moment, the gentle nervousness seemed to leave Sam, at least momentarily, as he yanked the light shorts down and discarded them on the floor. She spread her legs; glad that she was lying down because she was certain she wouldn't be able to stand. He ran his hand up her inner thigh and back between her legs. The soft touch of his finger against her desire slicked clitoris at once relieved her and frustrated her and as he started to move his hand in a slow rhythm, she felt her insides start to clench up and stars dance before her eyes as her orgasm started to build.

It took all of her will power to tell him to stop, but she wanted him inside her so badly, she begged. He reached down and grabbed a foil packet from his wallet, before tearing it open and smoothing the condom over his cock and settling himself between her legs. The pressure of his body against her thighs made her clench her muscles together in order to increase the friction. He lined up the head of his penis against her opening and paused for a moment, the slight contact making her head spin. Suddenly, her desire to have him push himself inside her was tempered with nerves,

"Will it hurt?" she whispered,

"I don't know. Probably a bit at first but I'll try and be as gentle as I can. If it hurts just say and I'll stop" he replied. She was glad he hadn't made her confirm that she was a virgin, that would've been humiliating, besides, she would've told him if she had had sex. She was again filled with gratitude that this was Sam, her Sam, she was with. He would rather die than hurt her, she knew and was sure he would stop and never resent her for it, if she asked. Not that she wanted him to.

Leaning forward, he increased the pressure until he slid inside her with tantalising slowness. It was more of a stretch than a pain, she noted gratefully. He waited until her body had become adjusted to the feeling of fullness before settling into a steady rhythm. As his thrusts grew harder, he moved his hand back to her clitoris and circled it lightly with his thumb. This was too much for her and she bucked her hips wildly, feeling herself growing impossibly tighter around him as she rode out her orgasm. Seconds later she felt him pulsing inside her as he joined her.

Sam collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily and they lay in silence for a few moments, both grinning widely in the dark and listening out for the sound of parental tread in the corridor

She was drifting off to sleep, contented in his arms a few minutes later when he whispered to her,

"Clarissa, are you ok?" by the concerned tone in his voice, she guessed that he had taken her silence for regret. She smiled against his shoulder and mumbled back,

"Never better, you?"

It was true. She had never felt better. She was so glad that her first time had been with someone she knew cared about her, about what she was feeling. She knew that Sam couldn't return the gift she had given him, as he had had sex once before, with a girl he barely knew when he was drunk, and regretted it, Clarissa knew.

"Me too,"

They had fallen asleep with their feet tangled together and smiles on their faces.

The next morning Clarissa woke up with swollen lips, the slight buzz in her sinuses from the tequila and a delicious soreness between her legs. Rolling over, she opened her eyes, smiling. Sam was gone. She wasn't too shocked about that; he was probably just worried about her parents finding out. It wasn't until she looked out the window and saw his motorbike was gone from his dad's front yard that something started tingling in the peripheries of her consciousness.

Not wanting to look desperate, she had left it until lunchtime before trying to contact him. She had found his desert scarf on the floor of her room where he had accidentally dropped it the night before; and headed over to his dad's house.

Her breathing sounded loud and foreign to her as the door swung open to reveal Sam's dad,

"Hello Clarissa, how lovely to see you,"

He then proceeded to bombard her with a series of questions; about college, her family, the newspaper; that she tried to answer politely even though it felt as though they were piling up around her, threatening to suffocate her. Eventually she cut through them,

"Is Sam home?"

She blushed as she realised how rude it sounded. Mr Anders's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and Clarissa wondered if they flicked down to the stubble rash on her chin that she hadn't quite been able to cover with make up.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, he got a call from his college first thing this morning, he has to go back and redo a paper. He doesn't think he's going to be able to come back all summer,"

Clarissa felt the pavement crumbling away beneath her but smiled as bravely as she could. She quickly said her goodbyes and returned to the safety of her bedroom. It wasn't until she was sitting on her bed that she realised that she still had Sam's scarf in her ands. Holding it up to her face, she inhaled deeply, breathing in his scent, before bursting into noisy sobs.

For the fist couple of days after he left she had tried to believe that he had really been called away to do a paper, maybe his phone was out of battery. However, as the weeks rolled by, the excuses that she was making for him were wearing a little thin and she was forced to conclude that maybe he was like all those other boys, the ones she had feared so much, after all.

On the final night before she had to go back to New York she had sat on her bed and been forced to conclude that he really wasn't coming back. She pulled the half empty bottle of tequila that Sam had so kindly left behind, from under the bed and drank it down, retching and gasping at the taste. Then she picked up the scarf that Sam had left behind. It had lost the smell of Sam weeks ago but Clarissa still slept with it next to her on the pillow like some kind of comfort blanket. Twisting it roughly between her hands and wishing it was Sam's neck, she threw it into the trash. She then turned unsteadily, the alcohol coursing through her veins and causing her to trip over her own feet. Somewhere in her tequila fuddled mind she recognised that this was what it felt like to be drunk, to be out of control, not the giggly feeling that she had felt with Sam. She grabbed the hammer and nails that she had swiped from the garage earlier and slowly, deliberately smashed the nails through the soft wood of the window frame, nailing it shut. The glossy white paint flaked as the nails punctured it and she cursed under her breath time and again as a nail bent or didn't go in straight but eventually it was secure and she leant back and surveyed her handiwork through half closed eyes. No masterpiece but it would do. Still holding the hammer, she swung her arm down over her mobile phone that lay on the desk, again and again until it lay in pieces. She then retrieved her new phone from her purse and sent the message that she had set up earlier, 'Hi this is Clarissa Darling and this is my new number' to everyone in her address book. Everyone apart from one, of course. Finally, after all that was done, she ran to the toilet to throw up the remains of the tequila.

She was brought back from her reverie by the scrape of brick on metal. Sam. Was it possible that she had summoned him here, she wondered, just by thinking about him? She scowled as he clambered in through the window. He had grown impossibly taller and the leather jacket he always wore, finally seemed to fit him properly.

"What are you doing here Sam?" she asked coldly, hand on hips.

"Wow, you look…." He trailed off, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. She waited a moment before prompting him, more than a hint of sarcasm

"Beautiful?"

"No. Well yes obviously you do. But that wasn't what I was going to say. I was going to say, different. Not like you,"

"Well I've grown up. I'm not a kid anymore. I've given up all that kid's stuff. Which brings me back to my previous question – why are you here?"

He seemed to think long and hard before he answered, "I've come to say goodbye," he quickly closed the distance between them on his long legs, raising his finger to her lips before she had a chance to retort, "Properly,"

She suppressed a shiver at his touch but said nothing, shocked into silence by the fact that her childhood friend had become a man,

"I'm moving to England. I've got a job at an architecture firm. I won't be back again,"

She just nodded slowly in response, slightly bemused as to why that made her so sad. She didn't even live in Evanston any more, he wasn't her neighbour, and even if he was, they hadn't spoken in over a year. Nothing would be any different, and yet, everything would change. He watched her, an unfathomable expression on his face for a moment, before turning to leave.

"Why didn't you call me?" The words tumbled out of her mouth without her bidding. He stopped, his back to her for several seconds before turning back.

"And say what?"

"Oh I don't know…Sorry?"

He couldn't look more tortured if he were on a rack.

"For what it's worth, Clarissa, I am sorry. About what happened, but mainly the way I acted afterwards. It was really shitty of me, I know that. But what did you want me to do, you knew I was seeing Mindy – "

"So you just went back to her?" she spat.

"Yes – to finish with her. Somehow I didn't think you'd want to be my bit on the side," he smiled wryly, "I should've called straight away after that though, I know. But what was I supposed to say? 'Hi Clarissa, how are you? Wasn't it funny how I got you drunk then slept with you the other day, that really makes me feel proud of myself, you know. One of my finest moments. Especially as you've made it quite clear in the past that you aren't remotely interested in me. By the way, I know we're only nineteen but I'm 99% sure that you're that you're the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with and if we don't work out this time I don't know what I'm going to do….Oh, the other 1% you say? Give me a break, it's taken me ten years to become this sure but if you give me a while to think about it I'll let you know'," he mimed putting the phone down.

She opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again. She was too floored by his roundabout admission of love to formulate what she was thinking into words. He was hanging his head at the guilt and shame he obviously felt at the thought that he had taken advantage of her. She had always rather thought of it the other way round. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him she hadn't been drunk, that she had wanted it, wanted him, but he carried on talking, emotion cracking in his voice,

"Besides, I did phone you but your phone was disconnected,"

"I know…it broke," she admitted, her cheeks pinking. Sam continued as though he hadn't heard her

"Then I came to New York to find you, about a month after you went back. I thought maybe it would be better to speak to you in person anyway. I waited outside your office for you but when you came out you were with a man. You were laughing,"

"So you just gave up? He could have been a friend,"

Sam's face grew pained,

"He had his arm around you, and you looked so happy. But no, like an idiot I still didn't give up. I went to your apartment that night and knocked on the door and he answered, asked me what I wanted. I told him I was an old friend of yours from home, and you know what he told me?"

"No," Clarissa breathed,

"That you and him had been together since you started college, that you lived together, had been for over a year. How could you do that to me Clarissa, not even tell me? I thought we told each other everything,"

Tears started to form in his eyes and he brushed them away roughly. Clarissa suddenly had an image of a despondent looking Sam, holding a bunch of rather battered roses, and wanted nothing more than to put her arms around him. She felt a weight crushing her chest at the thought that Owen could be so conniving. Maybe he had just been trying to protect her, after all, he had seen how badly Sam had hurt her, she reasoned. When they had first got together, she had told him that she had had her heart broken by her best friend from home and he had promised he would never do that to her. When Sam came to the door, Owen must've known who it was in an instant. She rifled through her memories desperately trying to recall an evening when Owen had gone to open her front door, but failed. The thought that Sam had been so close and she had missed him made her feel sick.

"I don't know why he said that. I didn't even meet him until after you and I……I was a mess after you left. I wouldn't do that to you. Honestly Sam," she promised, looking sincerely at him. Sam stared at her, shaken to the core by the revelation that rendered the past year of his life meaningless. All the bitterness and anger they had felt for each other over the past year melted away in the instant that their eyes met, the truth registering in both of them simultaneously. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as she was drawn to him like a magnet. He leaned his head down to hers; their lips inches apart, when Clarissa heard her father's voice calling her from downstairs, letting her know the car had arrived. She jumped back as though she had been shot. Her hands flew up to her face, panicked,

"What am I doing? This is supposed to be my wedding day! You're going to have to go,"

Sam screwed up his courage in both hands and blurted out,

"Don't marry him!"

"What?"

"Don't marry him. Not unless you're sure it's what you want. If there's even the smallest doubt, even if there's just 1%. You don't have to marry me instead or anything. I'd just hate for you to spend your whole life in the roller derby like my mom because you had doubts but you were too scared to speak up"

"I doubt it, I can barely skate,"

"You know what I mean,"

Clarissa looked down at her feet, muttering stubbornly, "Everyone has doubts on their wedding day. It's natural,"

His eyes pleaded with hers. She thought of her parents waiting downstairs, Ferguson sitting in the church with his partner Marcus (the reason he had been going out so often) along with the rest of her family and friends. Owen.

"I'm sorry Sam. This is all too sudden, too late,"

He looked utterly destroyed but pulled her in for a bone-crushing hug. She had to swallow back the tears that were prickling the back of her throat as she breathed in, his smell taking her back to the hours she had spent crying over his scarf,

"Goodbye Clarissa," he murmured, dropping a kiss onto her forehead, "I hope you find your one per cent, I know I did"

He walked away without another word, climbing slowly out the window. Clarissa heard the creak of the ladder and finally knew what it felt like to be one hundred percent certain.

She kicked off her ridiculous, painful satin pumps and pulled on her converse boots,

"Sam," she called, running to the window and gathering her dress up in her hands, as she put one foot over the sill, "Wait for me".

So there you go, I hope you like! If so, or even if you don't, please review. Thanks!