This is a preview of a story idea I had called Something Changed, but I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to make it a full story yet. Basically, Sam has more than friendship feelings for Carly while Carly has a boyfriend, and Freddie is Sam's friend with benefits. I hope this is good so far, and please tell me what I can do better and if I should continue. The scene I wrote here isn't the beginning or end of the story, but the central event itself.

Thanks :)

P.S. I'm not Dan Schneider

"Carly, I know." I said it so low, so light; I doubted she could hear me. Snow dripped lightly on my black jacket, hands in pockets. Light reflected off the street, glistening with melted snow. We were alone except for the few cars that passed. We hadn't spoken in a while, Carly and I. She was probably deep in thought, not noticing how close I stood next to her.

She let out a deep sigh, breath visible in the night air. "There's nothing to know, Sam. Adam's making me chose between being your friend and being his girlfriend, and you already knew that. It's as simple as that." Carly bit her lip, I could feel her nervous energy radiate off her.

I stopped in my tracks. My eyes grabbed hers, and she fought to tug away from my intensity. Her pink cheeks, her shiny glossed lips, her deep brown eyes, all of her fought for an escape route, but I wouldn't have it. "I know, Carls," when she didn't say anything, I continued, "You love Adam with all your heart. More than Freddie. More than me – no, don't try protesting. It's true, you've thought about it before in the back of your mind. You love the way he feels, the way he talks, the way he loves you, everything. He makes you happy. I want you to be happy. I'll be sad if you chose him, of course, but I understand it. I would feel the same way if I were you. I know because I love you too. Go ahead, Carly girl."

"Oh, Sam," Carly breathed, tears spilling out of her eyes and falling down her face. She didn't try to swipe them away, though they must have stung in the frigid air. "Sam, Sam, Sam." She held me, my body fire, hers ice.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you too, Sam." It was not a joke this time, not something written between the lines. We loved each other, friends or something more questionable, it didn't matter.

Carly stood still for a few more moments, seemingly stuck in a dream, or just savoring the moment. "Walk me to my apartment?"

My mind instantly thought no, because the more time I spent with her the more painful it would be to say goodbye, but I had to go with her. I had to. It would go against my nature not to. "Yes," I said.

She smiled sadly, the scarf I gave her shaking lightly in the wind. Her arm linked through mine as we made our way to her Bushwell Plaza apartment, passing The Groovy Smoothie and other places haunted by the ghosts of our past. We were silent, grasping every memory and moment, trying to savor all. When we reached her apartment door, Carly held on to me as if I might float away, and I squeezed her twice as hard because she was the one leaving, not me.

"You're my best friend. I love you." I like how she said it again, making sure I understood. We were the same that way: never sure if someone really loved us. We needed constant reminders.

"You too, Carly. Always."

She retreated behind her door, fighting tears again, nodding and then closing the door on me.

She was Carly, my best friend, and I loved her, I wasn't sure how I loved her but I did, and you're supposed to let things you love go. And that's exactly what I did.

"Sam?" The voice of Freddie Benson pulled me back to reality. How long had I been sitting in this hallway?

"Leave me alone, Fredward," I threatened, wiping away the tears he had probably already seen.

He sighed, arms crossed across his chest, "You told Carly it's okay for her to go to Adam?"

I just nodded, afraid that if I spoke my voice would crack with sobs. It never occurred to me that Freddie, Freddie Benson, would ever see me cry. After all that we'd been through, all that we'd done together, I still never thought we'd make it to this sacred point: seeing me, Samantha Puckett, shed her own tears.

"Want to come inside?" His voice was caring, but I raised an eyebrow at him. "She's at the hospital still, since it's close to Christmas she's in a caring mood." Freddie smiled at me, and I felt my own lips tug into a smile involuntarily.

"That's a first," I chuckled, feeling the tears go away, but not the pain.

We made our way inside his apartment, remaining quiet even though there was really no reason to do so. I flopped onto his bed, the smell of Fredward comforting in a way I had not deemed possible. He sat next to me; eyes alive and animated with watching me relax face-down on his bed. "Want to talk about it?"

"With you? No way," I laughed. It felt so good to laugh, to have some sort of release that did not result in tears. I turned around to face him, and we laughed together. The sound of our voice gave way into another intense silence, eyes locked. "Benson?"

"Yeah?"

I kissed him, softly, so unlike the other rough times. He kissed back, mouth warm and familiar against mine, snaking his arms around my body. I tried to go further, reaching for another way to release all the pain, but Freddie saw through me.

"Not tonight, Sam. This isn't what you need," Freddie coaxed me out of it, out of letting everything go. "Just because you lost Carly doesn't mean you need to lose yourself too. Not like this."

"Ugh," I cried, thrashing at his bed and body, angry at him for wanting what's best for me. I threw at temper tantrum, pounding my fists and kicking my legs like a small child against his bed. Tears formed in my eyes again, and Freddie just watched and waited, knowing that this is how I dealt with things.

"I know you love her. I know. I don't think she knows how much though. For Christ's sake Sam, breathe!"

And breathe I did. My cheeks were red with rage, and Freddie's bed looked like it had just been bombed.

"Let's get some rest, Sam. Life will continue in the morning." Freddie climbed into bed, covering himself with the remnants of his tattered sheets. He watched me at the foot of his bed, silently asking if I was going to stay or not.

I calmed down. "You don't know that," I countered, making my way underneath the covers too. I rested my head against his chest, but he knew not to touch me. He knew he was being a friend but just being there, letting me bitch about my life and letting my love go, when other people would just throw me out. Freddie Benson had figured me out. His breathing became a soft harmony against my ear, warm and steady. Freddie would be here in the morning. Freddie would be there when I saw Carly in the hallways and started crying for no reason. Freddie would be there when I needed a punching bag. Freddie would be there when I needed a lover. Freddie would be there when I needed a friend. There were so many words to say to express that feeling, but the only thing I could say to the sleeping boy next to me was,

"Thank you," with warmth.