It had been nearly a month since my encounter with Tasha, and I had decided to put it behind me. Even if I couldn't have Gibby, I still wanted him to be happy, regardless if it was with that slut.

"Spencer," I called, walking through the door with Sam, Freddie, and Gibby, (Tasha-less!) behind me. "We're home!"

"Good, I would have been worried if I could hear you from Cancun or something," he scratched his head. "And I'd also be very impressed."

We all laughed, but Gibby chuckled the hardest. "Ah, Cancun, such a knee slapper," he cried, flopping down on my sofa. I joined him while Sam went to go make popcorn and Freddie checked in with his mom.

"So," I began, sipping my ice tea. "How's Tasha?"

"Can I be honest with you?" he asked, gazing into my eyes. God, he was so perfect. I didn't care if he was a bit pudgy or socially awkward. He was going to be mine someday, and by the looks of it, someday was today.

"Of course," I replied, lowering my voice. Guys found that sexy, right? I put my hand across his and smiled.

Flashes of color popped into his cheeks. "I've been doing some serious thinking," he started.

"Good," I coaxed. "Weigh all your options."

"And I have to say, she's different. I'm different. We're no longer the same," he explained.

Oh God, this was it. He finally loved me back. We'd be Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, have three kids, and a beach house. We'd grow old together and wake up happily.

He cleared his throat, pushing away my dreams. "I think I love her," he confided sheepishly.

"What?" I shrieked. Sam looked over with a puzzled expression.

"Congrats kid, Tasha's great," Sam winked at me. "Really great."

"Yeah. So you think I should tell her?" he inquired to Sam.

"For sure. Girls love that sappy crap," she concluded, dropping down on the couch between us. "Even I do. All chicks just want a guy to hug them behind the waist, kiss their noses, and offer a sweatshirt."

Dammit Sam, why do you have to feed him information? I know she doesn't know I love Gibby, but she's basically making Tasha fall in love with him even more. God, they'll have ugly tramp babies and I'll be alone eating ice cream from the tub covered in cat hair from my eight cats.

"Is this true, Carls?" he asked me, beaming. And there it was, I needed to make up my mind.

Sadly, I answered back, "Sure is."

He swung his bag over his arm and walked out the door. "Later," he bumped into Freddie on his way out.

"Where's Gibby going?" Freddie questioned, carrying a bag. "I have a bag full of…stuff…in it."

Sam rolled her eyes and lunged for the bag.

"Ointment?" she cackled, spilling the tubes and containers all over the floor. I smirked at Freddie's dorkiness, but I wasn't really in a mood to laugh.

"What's her problem?" he asked the blonde, who shrugged back.

"Dunno. Gibby's going to tell Tasha he loves her though," Sam informed him, sitting down on the floor again, reading an ointment label. "Dude, this is tooth paste. There's fluoride."

"Oh," Freddie raised his eye brows and gave me a sympathetic glance. "Shut up, I don't examine all the tubes like my mom does."

Crap, my angst was written all over my face. "I'm fine, just tired. Howard gave me a report for wearing a turtle neck," I lied, rolling my eyes. I just leaned back on the cushion, sulking and pouting, until Sam thought I was too boring and Freddie was tired of my frown.

I needed to get out of this. I needed a new target. But who?