iBet You Can't.
"Cannot!"
"Can to!"
"Cannot!"
"Can to!"
"Prove it!"
"I don't have to prove it!"
Carly rolled her eyes at Freddie and Sam, fighting again. "Guys!" she yelled over them. They stopped and turned to her.
"What?" they asked in unison.
"Does it really matter if Sam can fit her entire fist in her mouth?"
Again they answered together. "Yes!"
"Okay, fine!" Carly said, plopping down onto a beanbag, trying to ignore them as best she could.
"I bet you can't," Freddie told Sam.
"A bet, huh?" she said, standing directly in front of him.
He stayed unfazed. "Yeah. I bet--" he paused, trying to think of something good. He got it. "I bet a kiss that you can't."
Sam got a few inches from his face. "I wouldn't get ready to pucker up if I were you." She backed away and made a fist, then stuck her knuckles in her mouth. Carly and Freddie watched as Sam tried to make room for her hand, concentrating hard and gagging a little. Finally she gave up, miserable.
Freddie looked at her, smirking. "Lost the bet, Puckett."
Sam rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Let's just get it over with."
They both leaned their heads in, eyes closed, and their lips touched for a few seconds until Sam pushed him away. "That's it. Go home, Benson," she told him. He walked toward the eleveator, only to turn to Sam before the doors opened and give her a smile.
Carly stood up from the beanbag. "Sam," she said. "I saw you stick your fist in your mouth yesterday. You let him win, didn't you?"
Sam still kept her eyes on the elevator doors, though Freddie was long gone.
"Yup."
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