What had she done?
Carly had tossed in her big, empty bed for the umpteenth time as the sun had slowly come up and the room became brighter. To say that she had slept well would be a lie. To say that she had felt rested would also be a lie. To say that she – oh, just stop lying!
She rolled onto her side, facing the window, and felt the place her Sammy usually occupied and felt lonely without her. After weeks of waking up next to her almost every morning, Carly found it odd for the blond to not be there. Sam has walked out and had not returned.
The calls and texts Carly had sent to her girlfriend's phone had gone unanswered. After trying for an entire hour and being met with silence, she finally got the point. She shut off the lights and went to bed. Then, she waited quietly in the fading darkness for Sam to return to her.
Sam was ignoring her. That meant that she was mad. Very mad. She never ignored Carly. Ever. Even when Sam was mad or upset, she would still answer Carly's calls and texts. Always.
Carly had never questioned their relationship. There had never been any reason to question anything. There really wasn't anything to question now. Why had this become such an issue for her, then? Maybe it was just her. Yeah. It was just her. Neurotic Carly. She should have that tattooed on her forehead like a warning tag: Lookout: Contents subject to unreal expectations of perfection!
That brought to mind something she had wanted to do with Sam. Not now, but when they got older. Spencer would have a fit if his little sister did it now. She had wanted them to get matching tattoos. Something romantic. Entwined roses (too girly), two linked female symbols (too gay), or two pieces of a single heart – one on Carly's heart; the matching one on Sam's heart. But, in the end, it was all too cliche. Sam and Carly had a different relationship and it deserved something different, a symbol that was unique to them.
Wouldn't have mattered much, anyway. Sam absolutely hated and despised tattoos. Or body markings of any kind. She had made it totally clear that there was no way in the land of heavenly bacon and Fat Cakes that she would allow her precious body to be defaced by permanent graffiti. She lived by the adage: No identifiable markings.
That was probably a Puckett family motto, emblazoned on a coat of arms right up there with a set of handcuffs, a judge's gavel and prison stripes.
So, Carly never brought up the subject of tats or piercings again. Maybe that suppressed need for identity actually bugged her, deep down. Latent feelings that were bubbling to the surface. Did she mean so little to Sam that the idea of even a tiny symbol of Carly on her skin, on her body, repulsed her? It hurt that she would not even discuss it.
Angry. Carly decided on that emotion. She let it rise up inside of her. After all, what right did Sam have to get so upset and walk out. All Carly was asking was for some token display of their relationship. Proof that she meant more to Sam than anything else in the world. That, no matter what, they would always be a part of each other, together.
Carly wasn't asking to be labeled. Nothing other than as Sam's girlfriend. Something that identified her as important to Sam, more important that her own skin.
The bedroom door clicked and opened, closing quietly a moment later. Just long enough for someone to enter the room. Carly whipped around in her bed to glare at the blond tip-toeing across the carpet between them.
Sam froze at the look of anger on Carly's face. This was going to be unpleasant. She straightened up and looked contrite. Waiting. She deserved it, she knew. Whatever she got, she deserved it. She should never have just left, but she had nothing to say. Words were never her thing. And she was certain they would fail her now.
Carly did not disappoint her. She was up from the bed and stormed over to stand toe-to-toe with the shorter blonde before Sam could even think about bolting.
"What the hell, Sam?!" she exploded, arms flailing to her sides, like flapping accentuated her point. "You crawl in here after vanishing all night without a single word, coming home looking like...like..." Looking at Sam derailed her thoughts and melted away her anger. It was her eyes. Always her piercing gray-green eyes. Eyes so soft and petulant and twelve kinds of gorgeous.
"Aw, hell," Carly mumbled to herself, slightly annoyed that her mood was so easily drained from her.
"Carly, I --" Sam began, slowly.
With a single finger to Sam's lips, Carly effectively quieted the blond goddess. Damn it, Sam looked good to her. She always looked good. Even when she looked bad, Sam looked hot – I mean good, she amended. No, she re-amended, I mean hot...
"Sam, it's okay," Carly whispered, surrendering like she always did. "I'm the one who hurt you. I'm the one with the issues. I really don't know why you even put up with me."
Sam shrugged, noncommittally. "I was just gonna say that I wasn't crawling." She saw Carly give her a confused, slightly cool look. "I walked in." Sam saw Carly's eyes dim. Damn it. Why did she have to open her mouth. She should just kiss her. Yeah, action, not words. That was her way.
Carly sighed. Why had she expected Sam to take anything she said or felt seriously. That would take a level of commitment that she realized Sam would never have. With anything. Tattoos included. It would always be this way, she knew. Sam would always ignore anything serious. Anything that interfered with her impulsive nature. Sam had always said that it was one of her charms.
It really was quite annoying.
"Carly," Sam began again, quietly. "I left because I didn't know what to say that I haven't said a thousand times. You know I'm no good with words..." Her voice trailed off as Carly's eyes turned chilly.
"So...you just left?" Carly's voice was harsh and there was a rising anger again. "Not just left. Vanished. Obviously, your actions do your speaking, Sam. They've always spoken for you. You couldn't even be bothered to answer your phone? I sent you a gazillion texts, Sam. Am I so unimportant to you that you couldn't even respond to at least one of them?" Carly was at shouting level. "Well, I guess I got my answer, Sam! I guess I really know how you feel about us! Just what we are to each other! Thanks," she said that last word particularly cold, eyes blazing, burning.
There was a dead silence between them. Carly was doing her best to calm down and regulate her breathing, hands balled into fists at her sides. Sam just stared at the ground. She had said enough. She didn't want to risk anymore words. Carly was mad enough. Maybe too mad.
Finally, Carly spoke. When she spoke, her voice was deflated and flat, quiet: "Sam...just go. Please, just...go..."
Sam felt a mixture of confusion and hurt and pain and a whole lot of negative emotions she did not like. And she could think of nothing to say to fix this. Actions. She walked around Carly and grabbed her jacket from the back of Carly's desk chair where she had left it. She returned to Carly and pulled the dead phone out of the jacket pocket, displaying it to Carly, showing that she never even had it with her. The battery had died.
Carly looked at the dead phone as if it was insignificant. There were other issues here.
Sam decided to act again. She raised her hands to Carly's arms, moving to pull her into a hug. Carly was almost relenting, but a flash in her eyes made her stand her ground. She knocked away Sam's arms and gave a solid push to Sam's chest to punctuate her point.
Carly's eyes went wide and she froze, staring at the blond with the downcast eyes. It was there, she saw it, almost perceptible for an instant and then gone. Only Carly would have caught it and knew what it was. Sam had flinched, winced when Carly had pushed on her chest. Sam never flinches.
Ever.
Carly slowly approached Sam. Sam stood her ground and studied the carpet. Words had failed. And now, so too did her actions. She stood immobile, waiting for it. Carly's hand touched the spot on Sam's left breast where her hand had been moments earlier. Sam didn't move. Carly's fingers found the edge of the shirt collar. Sam's eyes slowly came up to meet Carly's with an intensity she had never seen before, as if there was something deathly urgent she needed to tell her. Carly's eyes fell to where her fingers pulled at the collar, tugging it down. And she saw blackened skin, the edge of a bruise. Her eyes flitted up at Sam's and Carly looked confused. She looked back at the bruise, slowly being exposed by her fingers until she saw it.
She felt bad and relieved and excited all at once. Sometimes, actions do speak louder than words. Sam's actions were like screaming through a bullhorn. When she needed to say something, when Sam actually put her mind to it, her actions made her intentions quite clear.
There it was. Purple. In the middle of a swollen and mottled bruise, on the spot over her heart on her left breast. A cupcake with icing and surrounded by the words: Carly's Love – Carly's Heart – Carly's Soul. In permanent ink. Displayed on Sam's body. Painful needles had painted Sam's answer on her skin.
"Sam," Carly whispered softly, affectionately, all anger gone. All doubt erased. She brought her lips down to Sam's.
"Carly," Sam tried to say, sounding lost for words.
"Shut up," Carly grinned. "You've never said so much in all your life..."