The room had turned into a mess.

Under every CD he owned, video games, his PearPod, wallet, the unnecessary large number of keys, and clothes (mostly pants) was his bed. His frustration and belongings had taken over it, and the rest of his room. He paced the floor, the rustling of bags and cracking of DVD cases breaking under his feet. He stopped in front of his desk for the third time and stared at the lined paper and ball point pen that had been mocking him all afternoon. He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.

She would love this, he knew it. Last week during science lab, they looked at random school supplies and plants under the microscope. After she looked at a slip of lined paper, she glanced at him and said: "Did you ever write notes in elementary school? Probably not, I don't think guys do that." Her nose crinkled as she smiled and brushed back her hair. "It sucks that everything is technology based now, I'd love to get a real, written letter."

He had already been contemplating asking her to prom. He had racked his brain for creative ways to ask her but had no good ideas. There was the possibility of asking her on iCarly but he couldn't deal with the possible rejection in front of the world. He almost got a suggestion from Sam but instead of advice she said: "Give me your pudding cup, Gibby."

However, now he had something, a written letter. Not only did she want a written letter on a piece of paper written with a pen or pencil, but she would love one. His heart sped up at the thought of her loving his letter, yelling a yes to his prom invite in front of the school and wrapping her arms around his neck. She'd probably kiss him, most likely on the cheek, he knew she was too classy to smooch him too much in public. That would be saved for their private time, maybe under the bleachers at prom or in the back of his mom's sedan.

Gibby found himself puckering his lips to the open air and his arms wrapped around his middle and quickly shook out of his daydream. He made a quick glance around his room and out of his window to make sure no one saw him. He let out a sigh and dropped his head.

After a moment he walked up to his desk and took two deep breathes. This was it, do or die time. Write this letter, now, to give to the most beautiful girl he has ever seen or die of loneliness. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

He sat in his desk chair and leaned over the piece of paper. Minutes later his pen hit the desk and he was up again and walking out of his room and towards the front door.

"Where are you going, sweetie?" His mother's voice trailed through the house and caught him before he opened the door.

"Just across town, I'll be right back." The last words were cut off by the door slam.

Gibby ignored the stares as he boarded the bus. Normally, a shirt is mandatory but he had numerous compromises and discussions with all the bus drivers in Seattle about his need to be shirt free. At his favorite stop he jumped down the steps and walked the block to Bushwell Plaza. He scurried past Lewbert as he examined his mole in a compact mirror and took every other step to the eighth floor.

He stood outside her door for a moment and finally gave it a light knock.

He heard her steps approach the door, and his heart stopped when he heard the door knob click. She appeared before him and when she noticed him her face changed from curiosity to a pleasant smile. Her head tilted and her hip popped to the side as she held the door.

"Hi, Gibby."

Gibby gave a short "um" as his greeting and looked around him. Carly raised an eyebrow but patiently waited for a coherent response.

Gibby made another unsure noise and threw the note at her and scurried away, bumping into the railing on his way down the first flight of stairs. He kept running but felt as if he couldn't run fast enough. His heart ached and his stomach was starting to make it's way into his throat and he couldn't breathe. Once he was outside he stopped and paced for a moment, discussing this mistake in his head.

"Gibby!"

He knew her voice so well. She was outside, with him, after reading his note. He contemplated running away but his feet were cemented to the ground. He couldn't turn around, he couldn't run, and he couldn't breathe.

"Gibby." He felt her coming closer and soon she was in front of him. Her smile comforted him but he still couldn't move.

She stuck out her hand, his note gripped in her fingers. After Gibby stood motionless, she waved it in front of him suggesting he take it from her.

It took all the strength he had to grab it and he felt his breathing quicken as he read the note.

Dear Carly,

Will you go to prom with me?

Check Yes or No.

And inside the "yes" box was a pink check mark.