I wanted to get some fluff out of my system and needed to write this. Don't be a hater if you ain't on the Seddie ship.

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"Carly, why are you doing this to me? Why?" I asked as my best friend pulled on my arm, trying to get me down the stairs. There was no way I was going down there where there were people while I was dressed like this.

"Because I'm your best friend," she countered, dropping my wrists. "I want you to have fun! There is no way you're missing this!" Carly grabs me off gaurd and yanks me down the last few stairs, where Spencer is waiting with his camera. And I'm in a red and white bandage-strapped dress. "Woah. Sam, Carls . . . you guys look great!" he exclaims, snapping a shot. "Freddie called and said he'd be over in five to help you set up, but I already cleared the room of furniture. So there really isn't much left for you guys to do but hang the decorations." The boxes of red and white crepe paper, pink glitter, and heart decorations are scattered across the Shay's living room. I really don't understand why Carly insisted we throw this big Valentine's Day party. It's stupid in my opinion. But I do like the fingerless red lace gloves Carly got for me to wear.

Carly flips her freshly curled hair over and tucks it under her pink satin headband. "Do you want a Peppy Cola?" she asks. I nod and she tosses me one. The intial crack and fizz of the can reassures me that I can make it through a few hours in this hellhole of a party.

The door behind us opens and Freddie walks in, a smile on his face. "Hola chiquitas!"

"Hi Freddie."

"Hey, Captain Cheery. Why so smiley?"

"It's one of the happiest days of the year and my mom was out, so I managed to get out of there without wear a tux," he laughs. "But we've got to get going." With that, Carly tosses me a roll of masking tape. "Follow behind me and stick some every few feet around the room. And Freddie, why don't you hang Spencer's disco ball?" Spencer created us a bright pink, heart-shaped disco ball to use. I might not like Valentine's Day, but even I found that cool.

By nine o'clock, we've managed to get the party going. Gibby is having his own version of fun playing deejay while Tasha is feeding him strawberries (something I really don't get) and Carly is having fun mingling and being her own bubbly self. Spencer has locked himself in his bedroom, claiming he will come out with the best Valentine's Day sculpture in less than four hours. The only person I can't find is Freddie. "Hey Sam, lookin' good!" says one guy who I don't even know as I pass by. I spit my gum in his hair. I think he was insulting me.

I finally get an idea of where he might be. I slip out of Carly's apartment when no one is looking and let myself into the one across the hall. Sure enough, there's Freddie, tucked away on his fire escape.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to manuever my way through the window in the dress. I fall through backwards and Freddie tries to catch me. I end up landing in his arms, bridal-style. Our eyes lock for a second and we both jump up. "What are you doing here?" we both exclaim at the same time.

"It's my house," he says. "What are you doing here?" I roll my eyes and put on my defensive voice. "You left our party."

"It was too crowded. I wanted air."

"I know."

"You do?"

"I was going to do the same," I admit. "Carly doesn't know the meaning of air conditioning."

"Sam, it's February."

"Yet we're sitting on a fire escape."

"Touche." An awkward silence fills the air. I'm at a loss for words and Freddie seems to be, too. I find myself humming a tune that's floating through the air, a reminder of the party that's going on across the hall without us. I pause, trying to remember the name of the song that Gibby must be spinning.

"Love Story, Taylor Swift." I'm shocked by Freddie's answer. I hadn't even voiced my question aloud yet.

"What?"

"The song. It's Love Story by Taylor Swift." His intense eyes lock with mine again, and all of a sudden I can't speak.

"What . . . I . . . how did you . . .?" The proper words won't come out of my mouth.

Freddie smiles at me. "Sometimes I might know you better than you think I do."

"You . . . you do?" I don't know why that surprises me. Freddie and I have grown close despite the arguments and banter that goes on between us. Over the years, I guess we've become friends.

"Of course I do Sam. I . . ." He trails off. I look at him expectantly. "You what?" I ask. I'm surprised at the fact that I'm longing for a certain answer.

"I love you." It comes out softly, but I surprisingly wanted to hear that. Without thinking, I lean forward like I had done so many months ago and kiss him hard on the mouth. He kisses me back and wraps an arm around my waist. Soon we're in full make-out mode, a tangle of lips and breaths. Our bliss is interrupted by a sudden and loud screech of "WHAT THE YUCK!?!" from behind us. Our heads whip around to find a thoroughly disgusted Mrs. Benson standing at the open window.

"Oh, uh, hi Mrs. Benson," I say tentatively, easing myself out of her son's lap. "What's up?"

"What's up?" she shouts, looking confused. Her face is turning red. Uh oh. I grab Freddie's hand and pull him down the stairs of the fire escape. We're soon at street level. He looks at me and smiles. "Where are we going?" he asks, suspicious. I laugh.

"Anywhere were we can get fried chicken." Freddie pulls me in and kisses me again.

"Anything for my valentine."

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xo, Chantal