"Carly, for the millionth time, he won't care what you're wearing nearly as much as you care. What happened to the classic LBD?"
"Well, I was going to wear that, but it seemed so... Well I just don't want to wear that, okay?"
I threw myself on Carly's be and groaned into a pillow. Carly and Freddie were going to a teen dance club that night, and once again, I had fallen into the role of shrink and fashion advice columnist rolled into one.
"Do you think this one is too sexy?" she said, pulling out a pink cocktail dress with a swooping neckline. "I don't want to give him the wrong idea."
I glanced up. Carly looked genuinly worried. "Nah, it's fine. Just don't go overboard with the hips when you're dancing or anything."
Carly blushed. As she went to find a pair of shoes, I got a mental image of Freddie and Carly dancing. Her hands around his neck, as they gazed into each other's eyes and- ew! Why was my mind even going there?
I had to deal with this problem. Friends do not have crushes on friend's boyfriends! Try saying that three times fast. Granted, crushes can be gotten rid of. Or at least... suffocated until you yourself wondered if they existed.
"Sam? Sam!"
"Huh? What?" I jumped. How long had I been thinking?
"Are you okay?" Carly asked me, frowning. She sat next to me on the bed. "You seem kinda... depressed."
Now there was the understatement of the 21st century. "I'm fine, Carls. You go on your date and have fun."
"Well, if you're sure." Having gotten the answer she wanted, Carly went to the bathroom to try on her outfit.
Think, Sam, think. Why would I even be attracted to this guy?
Nope, not working. I had instantly come up with a handful of reasons.
Freddie POV:
Sam opened the door, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Carly will be down in a minute. Nice shirt."
"Really?" I asked suspiciously. "You always hate my shirts."
"Only the ones you usually wear," she said, turning her attention back to the TV.
"I wore this last week and you said it should be thrown down the garbge disposal, and the designer should be dragged into a parking lot and shot!" I protested, my voice rising higher.
There was a pause. "Must be the light."
I raised my eyebrows. Sam was acting weird. If she was an animal I'd say she was off her feed.
"Must find ham," she said, swinging her feet off the sofa and making a beeline for the fridge. Okay, so maybe she WAS an animal... But nowhere close to off her feed.
Wait, animal? I meant carnivore... Animal meant something sexual. And I did not think of Sam in a sexual sense.
Just then, Carly came downstairs. I had to admit, she could really work the wow factor.
"Wow," I said. She grinned.
"You're kinda wow yourself," she said, running her finger along my jawline.
I coughed and glanced at Sam, then back at Carly. Had she seen that? Yep, she had seen, judging by the fake-vomiting into the trash can. I smiled.
"Freddie?" Carly asked. "Are we gonna go?"
"Oh, yeah," I said. "See ya, Sam."
"I'll be here," Sam said. "Where else am I ever?"
"Prison?"
"Low blow, Benson. Low blow."
Back to Sam's POV:
Yeah, I liked his shirt. And his jeans. And his shoes. And his face. And his lips... Sam, stop!
I turned on the news. May as well stay informed, after all, even if it depressing. I can't get much more depressed than this.
Author's note:
Okay! Hoped everybody liked that chapter... With the way I have the story figured out in my head, there will probably be about three more chapters. Next chapter brings DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMAA AAAA! Who doesn't love Seddie drama?
The only issue is... I haven't figured out who the drama is between. So please, if you love me or this story at all, will you pretty-please leave me a review saying who you want to get in a spat?
A. Carly and Freddie, or
B. Carly and Sam.
I have plots to go with each, but I don't know which to go with. Thanks!
