CHAPTER 4

The days went on after that kiss, but the moment was frozen in my head. Neither of us mentioned it. In fact, we hardly even talked to each other. Freddie and Carly seemed to be getting along fairly well- more than fairly, truth be told. They were at the peak of their relationship, kissing, giggling, texting, passing notes. Each struck a blow to me, but I preferred to do my crying in private, at home on my bed.

In the rare moments when Carly was apart from him- and I do mean rare, for she clung to him like an octopus, grabbing at him with those sticky tentacles- I sneered at her, gave her looks suggesting that I knew something she didn't. Which I did, of course, but I would never tell her. Ever. I was no longer Sam, the tough and unbreakable. Now I was Sam, the confused and weary and hopelessly in love.

Even if he neither knew nor cared. Did he? I would often give up hope, but then that warm moment came back to me, and it wasn't all on my part.

Guys are such jerks.

So I lived through the next month, and the month after that. He called me twice. The first time I let it ring. The second time I picked it up and just listened to him saying hello over and over again, then the line went dead. After that I mapped out what I was going to say, and waited for him to call again. I spent two months waiting for him to try and make some form of contact.

He never did. I watched iCarly until it went offline. Carly called me more than Freddie did, begging me to come back, angry, then sad, then worried, and angry again. I refused. After awhile I stopped picking up. Surprisingly, she gave up. I guess she figured all good things had to come to an end.

I missed Carly, despite how much I hated her. All my emotion contradicted each other nowadays. She was the only one who took me for me, laughed at me when I was a pig, understood when I was angry, and let me stay at her house even if I got in by illegal means. Even though Freddie had changed me, I was still Sam, and I still wanted to crash on my best friend's couch and wake up to a turkey sub and a smoothie, accompanied by a few episodes of Girly Cow.

I missed her. Even as I knew things could never be the same again, I wished we could find a way to be friends.

But we became more bitter towards each other at school. At first it was just me sneering and her looking down at the ground shyly, guiltily, or even in a hurt manner. As the weeks rolled on, though, she developed an offense and glared right back. I began to lose hope. Freddie was hers, I guessed, and nothing could ever change that. Even so, that knowledge didn't stop me from wishing he was mine.

I thought it was all over. Then, on a Tuesday after a three-day weekend, they suddenly stopped sitting together.

Stopped kissing, stopped passing notes, stopped holding hands, stopped whispering.

It was wrong, but I pounced. I passed a note to Freddie in Mr. Harms' class: What happened with you and C? No mushy-gushy? I passed it between the seats hurriedly, and watched from the corner of my eye as he unfolded it secretely and removed a pen from his desk, my heart pounding. With a crackle of paper, he handed it back. I rushed to open it.

Fight. About you. She thinks... Well, it's complicated. She wants to make up, I'm not sure.

I scribbled quickly: Why are you not sure??

He took a while in responding, and when I finally got it back, what I read made my heart stop.

You.

One word, but I didn't respond. I tucked the paper into my back pocket and didn't speak to him the rest of the day. When I got home, I practiced what to say. I watched myself in front of the mirror, I paced, I wrote down a script, even spent some time deciding how to wear my hair. And then I went over to his apartment. I was ready, or so I thought. I had to sneak out as it was fairly late. I'd spent two hours practicing.

Not that any of it helped. As soon as he opened the door, it all went flying out of my head. I stood there, my mouth open, unsure of what to do, as he leaned on the door jamb. We stood, staring at each other, until finally he began walking down the hall, grabbing my hand in his. At first he was just leading me, then we jogged, then we were flying down the hall, laughing for no apparent reason.

And then we came to it. Our destination, obviously. It was the fire escape. My chair was still out there, where I had come many a night to just watch the city. I left the seat there, being too lazy to take it back and forth. He sat in it, and I leaned against teh rail. Here we were again, but our positions were reversed. We stared again, watching each other closely. I was still working up the courage to speak when he stood and took my hand. My resolve melted instantly, of course. I blushed, and tears threatened the moment.

"All this for me?" He asked softly, and leaned forward.

That's when we kissed. Again. It was bliss. Better than the first, better than the second. We were in sync, perfectly. I felt his tongue working its way into my mouth, and I let it. He held my arms loosely, and though it was short, it seemed to last an eternity, this kiss.

We sat out on the fire escape for a long time, just talking about general things. Laughing. He made me laugh, smile. All the time. But we didn't dare talk of Carly, for fear that the air would become tense and the mood ruined. At the end of the night he walked me home, and it occured to me that this was almost like a date. Only there was no kiss goodnight, no "I'll call you," or "Talk to you tomorrow."

Still, it was the best night of my life. I didn't sleep for fear when I woke it would be gone, all a dream.

This was all happening so fast. Fear overcame me, froze me, that it could end just as quickly.