"Do you think maybe you and I could be something great?"

You don't know how you get stapled in the middle of awkward situations, but it always happens. You just had to pause in the hallway two days after Freddie kissed you, and he just had to follow you.

He's standing only about a foot away from you, leaning into the wall and staring earnestly at the back of your head. He doesn't sound scared or anything, which surprises you based on the freak-out going on in your body.

You spin idly on your toes to look at him, but you don't want to. You want to pretend like you had missed his words and continue down the stairs and on your way home. Something is stopping you from leaving, though, and you aren't really sure what it is, but you stay. His hands are in the pockets of his blue jeans, the t-shirt Carly bought him for his birthday plastered across his chest. He's grown up an awful lot since you first met him, hasn't he?

"What?" You hiss at him.

He sighs, pushing off the wall to step closer to you. "I think we should go on a date." He states with a shrug.

"You and me?" You mutter, brow furrowed.

He nods. "Me and you."

"Is this because of that kiss?" You demand of him. "Cuz that was nothing, remember?"

He shrugs again. "It could be something."

You eye him for a moment, trying to figure out his angle. "You're playing with me, right Fredward?"

Freddie steps closer still, snatching your hand with both of his. "I'm serious."

"Liar." You accuse. "You're not nervous or anything."

"Why should I be? What's the worse that can happen? You say no? You hit me?" He smirks. "Been there, done that."

"And what makes you think I'd want to go on a date with you?"

"I don't know." His thumb brushes your fingers over and over. "I thought I'd give it a shot. I want to kiss you again."

You don't blush. You never blush. Shit. You're blushing. "I don't want to date you." You say, but he only grins.

"Than how about just that kiss?"

He yanks on your hand to drag you close and attaches his mouth to yours. You stand there limply, frozen in time. Caught in a moment of utter shock. His lips are rough and harsh against yours; taking all and giving nothing back. You kind of like the feeling. Not that you'd ever admit to it.

He pulls back slowly, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip like he could erase the evidence. "Night, Sam." He mumbles and heads into his mother's apartment.

The original plan was to head home, but instead, you turn around and head back into Carly's loft. She's sitting on the couch watching Girly Cow, eating a Popsicle. Before she can speak, you drop down onto the couch next to her and grab the Popsicle, shoving it straight into your mouth.

"I was eating that." She says, not sounding half as perturbed as she should.

"I know. I like the way you taste."

She pauses for a moment, considering whether or not you're joking. "I don't care." She finally declares. "I was eating that." She tilts your hand so you shove the Popsicle into her mouth instead of your own.

"Hey!"

"Serves you right."

"Whatever."

She smiles around her frozen snack and settles back in. "I thought you were going home."

You shrug. "Change of plans."

She mimics your shrug. "Okay."

You turn to face her. "Really? That's it? No questions? No painful interrogation in the elevator with a flashlight?"

"Only if you want to."

"I'm okay." You nod.

"Okay."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Carly shrugs and grins. "That's fine."

You watch her for a moment. "I mean it. I'm not saying a word."

"Okay by me."

You stand. "Damn it, Carly! I said no!"

She laughs. "Relax, Sam. I'm pretty sure I don't even want to know."

You exhale loudly, sitting back down. "Good."

You're staring at her lips. You don't mean to, but Freddie kissed you and you love Carly so much more than you love him. Not that you love him at all. That's one thing you have in common, though. You both are in love with Carly. Not that you're in love with her. All the time. Every second of ever hour of every day of your life. Whatever. It doesn't mean anything. But those lips. They look so tasty and so pouted. They want you to kiss them.

"Do I have something on my face?" Carly asks.

You finally raise your eyes to break your stare on her lips. "Not right now."

You lift up onto your hands and knees, slowly bringing your face closer to hers.

"What are you doing?" She whispers, eyes wide.

You shake your head. "I don't know."

As you settle back, poising on your ankles, you wish you could just disappear. Or evaporate. Or something. You should be able to evaporate, right? You're like sixty percent water or something. Carly's watching you, which doesn't help you relax at all.

Suddenly you're on your feet. "I'm going to go."

She raises her eyebrows. "Okay...?"

You run most of the way home. It's normally ten minutes with your hyperactive way of walking, but you make it there in four. You yank your key chain out of your pocket, unlocking the door like you're being chased or stalked.

Your mom is out. She's out most nights. She dates a lot. Some nights, like this one, you wish she didn't.

You step numbly up the stairs and into your bedroom. After a quick fumble out of most of your clothing, you drop onto the bed.

Your room is pristine white. Your second bedroom this year. Both eggshell. You've considered painting the walls, adding personal touches, making it yours. But no bedroom has felt like yours since the first, and you will never see that room again. Your not sure what your mother is running from, maybe your dad, but you are hardly capable of stopping her.

Turning over, you bury your face in the pillow. Sleep is so fulfilling.

XXX

There's nothing quite like the cold wind of an autumn afternoon whipping passed your ears. Normally, your not one to show up to track practice, just the meets, but you've showed up every day this week so far. Which isn't saying a hell of a lot considering its only Tuesday, but your coach seems happy.

You sprint full out on the track, all free and uninhibited. It's better than sex. Maybe. You're running, why are you thinking about sex now? This is supposed to be your free time. No sex, no Carly, no Freddie…. Or however those three connect, whatever. It doesn't matter. Clearing brain now.

"Sam! SAM!" Your coach is screaming after you and you slow to a jog in place.

"Sup?"

"You passed the finish line like thirty seconds ago. Go back and do it again. I know you can beat that time." She commands. Your automatic response is to argue back, but you hold your words in your throat and jog back to the start.

Carly's watching you from the stands. You can feel her eyes on you. You can always sense when she's nearby. You are totally cut out for this invisible ninja shit.

Freddie's next to her, his eyes fixed on you just as intensely. Gees. Stalker much? It was one kiss. Okay, two. But it isn't like you kissed back or anything! What is wrong with him? He should try playing the field a little. Two friends, both girls, and he has to chase both. Idiot.

"Damn it, Sam! Are you going to participate or what?"

You glance at your coach. "What?"

"I've told you to go like a half a dozen times! Don't you see everyone else running?"

You take off like a light. Why do adults have to use phrases like 'half a dozen?' If they want to prove a point, can't they be normal and make it an absurdly large number? Half a dozen just doesn't sound like they are really putting in enough effort.

You catch up to the rest of the pack fairly easily. You've always been a good runner. It's the meat consumption. You don't know why, but it is.

Too soon, practice is over.

XXX

"You want the rest of my smoothie?" Carly offers.

"Do I ever!" You exclaim excitedly, snatching her smoothie and downing some.

She smiles at you fondly. You can feel it soak into your skin like perfume. You fight a blush and clear your throat as if that would get her to look away. Pulling back from the smoothie, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

"So, uh, let's get out of here." You don't really feel like leaving, but you couldn't take the silence anymore and that was the first thing to pop into your head. Freddie's studying you like your one of his science experiments. Would Carly get mad if you just punched him for what would seem like no reason?

Carly frowns, confused. "Okay, if you really want to. You said your running made you want a smoothie, though."

"It did." You give. "And now I've got my smoothie, so we can leave."

"Carly," Freddie starts, "Why don't you go see if Spencer wants a smoothie? My treat? I'd feel bad if we headed back and came in having our smoothies, leaving him smoothie-less."

Your stomach tightens uncomfortably. You hook your eyes on Carly, hoping to communicate somehow your need for her to stay.

"Good idea." She says, standing. "I'll be back in a minute."

She's barely out the door when Freddie takes your hand again, like you're on a date or something. You try to yank it back, but he holds on tight. You yank again, but it's a no go.

"When did you get strong?" You ask him, actually curious.

He shrugs. "Probably thanks to all my attempts to combat your temper."

You nod slightly, turning to look out the window. "I hope Carly gets back soon."

"You know, if she wasn't coming back, it'd be like we're on a date." He grins at you.

"We're not."

"I know, but it would be nice."

"No, it wouldn't."

"Sam, what do you have against dating me?" He asks you.

You stare at him, seemingly temporarily dumb struck. "I…"

"See? There's nothing holding us back."

"But, but you like Carly!" You protest, finally freeing your hand from his death grip.

"Used to." He corrects. "I mean, I still like her, and I'd probably still go for it if she asked me out, but I don't want to pursue her anymore."

You force yourself to blink. "But, but you're like obsessed!"

He shakes his head. "No, just hopeful. I thought eventually she'd change her mind. Through my love for her, she might start to see how cute and endearing I am."

"She does," You counter, "Just in a little brother kind of way."

"Do you think of me as a little brother?"

You scoff. "Hell no."

"Then it would work."

You stand then, running a hand through your curly blonde locks. "Look, Freddie, I'll admit that its sweet of you to willingly forget some girl for her best friend." You grin at your own words. With a little chuckle you continue, "I don't have anything against you, I just don't have anything for you. You're the iCarly technical producer, we're friends. I like the relationship we have."

Carly walks back in at that moment, looking breathless and happy. Your heart stops and then speeds. You don't know why this is happening to you lately. You've been friends forever. For some reason, though, she makes your heart sing lately. You gape at her. She gives you an odd smile and heads over to the table.

"He'd love a smoothie, especially if you're buying." She tells Freddie, gripping the back of a chair.

He stands, offering her a smile. "I'm on it."

Carly backs up over to you. She folds her arms across her chest and leans into the wall. "So, what happened?"

You frown at her. "What makes you think something happened?"

"Well, Freddie looked glum and you were standing next to the door neglecting the rest of my smoothie when I walk in." She explains.

The smell of her hair drifts over to you, filling your senses. What would she have done had you kissed her a few days ago?

"Oh, he asked me out." You slip accidentally, too caught up in your drifting mind to give anything but and honest answer.

"What?" She exclaims, breaking you out of your daze.

You shake your had to clear it a little more. "I mean, he, uh…" There really isn't a good cover when you said it so plainly.

"He asked you out?" She questions in a loud whisper? "Why?"

You raise your eyebrows at her. "Why?"

She brushes off your retort with a wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes. "I mean, it isn't weird that anyone would want to date you, being as pretty as you are, but Freddie? You guys never stop fighting."

You shrug. "You don't have to convince me, tell him that."

She grins suddenly. "It would be a nice change if he were to become interested in someone else."

"Carly, he has no shot with me."

She stares at you suspiciously. "Why not?"

Honesty is best, you tell yourself. Honesty is best. "Because I like someone else." It's the first time you've ever admitted out loud that you like her, even to yourself. It's actually somewhat shocking. You lick your lips as if to clean the words off. You like her. That's all there is to it. You've officially made the mistake every sexually confused girl makes- you've fallen for your best friend. And you're over generalizing about it. Phenomenal.

Carly's smiling excitedly at you. "You like someone? You never told me! Who is it?"

Honesty isn't best; whoever decided that was an idiot. You lick your lips again, trying to find the right words.

"Its no one you know." You squeeze out.

"Who do you know that I don't know?" She asks.

She has a point. "Okay, so its someone you do know."

Freddie wanders back over with Spencer's smoothie, stopping any reply Carly had been about to make. "Okay, got the smoothie, let's bounce."

You shake your head at him, running a hand down your face. "Please tell me you did not just say 'let's bounce.'"

Carly saves him from having to respond by bringing back up the conversation you'd hoped was over. "Sam likes someone."

A self-satisfied expression overcomes Freddie, like that could be the only possible reason you would reject him. "Who?" He asks.

They both look at you expectantly. You look at the smoothie, searching for clues.

"Spencer." His name is out of your mouth before you can grab it and force it back down. Freddie looks stunned; Carly looks on the verge of laughter.

"He's like a million years older than you!" She says, letting out a small laugh.

"I don't care." You respond defiantly. "If I'm going to be with someone, I want them to be funny and keep good food around."

"He is funny, and he does keep good food around." Carly concedes, still looking suspicious.

Freddie seems somewhat upset by this recent development. He tugs open the door. "Let's go back."

XXX

"So, why Spencer?"

The clock just struck ten. You're curled up in Carly's sheets, watching her get ready for bed. The sheets smell like her, that intoxicating scent that has your brain drifting to much more perverted topics.

"Why Spencer what?" You respond, distracted by the swaying of her body as she paces back and forth between her en suite bathroom and bedroom, trying to brush her hair and talk to you at the same time. When did she become so sexy?

She rolls her eyes at you. "Why are you crushing on my brother?"

"I'm not-" You begin, but cut yourself off. "Oh, um, Spencer. I told you, he's great."

"I know, but you've always felt that way. When did it become a love thing?" She asks.

"I don't know." You watch her dark eyes blink at you. Her long eyelashes clashing against the light skin of her cheeks. You let your mind drift back. When did you realize everything she did was such a turn on? "I guess I've always found him attractive." Even when you were eight and stealing her lunch, you still thought she was pretty.

"I have to admit, it's a little weird to have you like my brother." She tells you, coming back into her room and settling in bed next to you.

You shrug. "Would it be weirder if I liked you?"

She stares at you for a moment, as if she's really considering her answer. You meant for it too be an offhand comment, so her sincerity makes your cheeks stain pink.

"No," she finally answers. "It wouldn't."

You frown deeply at her, trying to hide your surprise. "Really?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, really. I mean, at least with me, I uh…" She lets her words fade out.

"You what?" You question eagerly.

She shakes her head. "I don't know. It just wouldn't be weird." She reaches over and clicks off the light. "Night."

You're still sitting up, staring at the spot where she 's lying in the dark. Your heart is racing, your body practically vibrating. "I'd have a shot with you?" Part of you wishes you had a little more self-control; the other part is dying to hear her answer.

"Well," she sighs through the dark. "You definitely don't have a shot with Spencer."

"But I'd have a shot with you? If I liked you, I mean." It's taking everything you have to keep the desperation out of your voice.

"What does it matter?" She sighs again. "You like Spencer, not me."

"But if I did like you…"

"But you don't."

"But if I did…"

She sits back up, flipping the light back on, to stare into your brightened eyes. "Why is this such a big deal to you?" She asks.

You slump back into her headboard. "I guess it just makes me feel good about myself to think someone as hot as you would consider me." Lies, all lies.

She smiles. "You have to stop telling me I'm hot or I might actually start believing you like me and not Spencer."

You grin. "Yeah, but every time I say it, you smile."

She rolls her head, snatching up her pillow and hitting you in the face with it. "Go to sleep, Sam."

As she shuts off the light this time, you sink down into her bed, unable to remove the toothy smile declaring residence on your face. You'd have a shot with her.