I whipped my coat on as I walked down the street towards the Groovy Smoothie. I was hoping that Sam would be there. And that, by sheer luck, Carly wouldn't be. I wasn't ready to confront her just yet.

It was bitterly cold outdoors that Sunday; I stuffed my hands under my armpits for warmth and clenched my teeth. I wondered how it could be so cold in only November when it should be teeth-chattering freezing in December. I sucked it up best I could, because if I didn't, I'd never reach Sam.

The box thumped against my side from inside my coat pocket. It had been resting atop the highest shelf in my room for some time after the rivalry started. I never had the chance to give it to Carly, and never expected another chance to come. I was extremely gleeful that I hadn't given it to her, though, for now someone else could receive it. Almost as if fate had decided it.

I welcomed the rush of warm air when I opened the door to the hangout. The bell tinkled above me, and I saw a blonde-headed girl twist around to see the newcomer. I smiled jollily when I saw exactly who the girl was.

I walked up to her, savoring the smile on her face and within her eyes. She's so beautiful… I thought to myself, feeling excited butterflies—no, flying saucers, I was so nauseated—in my tummy. I sat next to her and she greeted me with: "What took you so long?"

I chuckled softly and shook my coat off. Every time she made a comment that used her special "Sam Puckett-tone", I was grateful I could hear it. It was something about her that made me so exultant to be in her presence—man, I sound corny.

"Had a talk with Spence." I explained, and she nodded. "How's your day been?" Sam rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Boring after 6:00 AM." she said.

"Yeah, well," I whispered, my hand reaching for my pocket, "maybe I can perk it up." Sam raised an incredulous eyebrow as she watched me extracting the black box.

I casually set it on the table and pushed it with a single finger to her. She stared at it, a glazed look over her eyes. Her smile was long gone and her eyes seemed to water a little.

"What's this?" she whispered. I gently took the box away and opened it up to reveal the glittering diamond ring. It was shaped like a heart, and the diamond was purple. The rest of the ring was glistening gold, pure gold, and tiny mini-diamonds were around it. Looking at it now, I knew it was perfect for Sam.

"Uh…isn't that…?" Sam said, pointing at the ring, "Isn't that…Carly's ring?"

"It was supposed to be," I said, taking it from its resting place in the box, "but now it's yours." I moved my hand under hers and lifted it up, and I slid the ring onto her finger. She looked at it in awe, probably wondering why I was giving it to her. Or something like that, because I hoped she knew.

"Why?" she asked, "Why give it to me?" I glimpsed at our surroundings as a distraction: a few kids were there, laughing with their buddies, and T-Bo was trying to sell who-knows-what on a stick to them. I looked out the doors too: no one coming in. Fine by me, I thought, The less kids there are, the better. I was delaying what I had to say, though I desperately needed to say it. I gave Sam that ring for reasons a man in love could only understand; I loved her, and she needed to know that.

"Because," I said, "Sam, I…I'm in love with you."

Sam looked like she'd been hit by a bus.

Her face became paper-white and her turquoise eyes became wide. Her lips parted and she looked as if she couldn't breathe. I instantly regretted my early pledge of love. Even if she liked me, it didn't mean she loved me. I was stupid.

"Sorry, Sam," I said, disappointed in myself and how it went wrong, "I shouldn't have said that. I'm really sor—" I couldn't finish because Sam had given me an out-of-the-blue kiss. It was filled with gratitude and love. I knew I'd said the right thing; Sam loved me too, and that made me feel immensely joyous.

She pulled from me with her smirk plastered on. "Took you long enough, nub." I chuckled and hugged her to me. I didn't care if we weren't in private; everyone could know about Sam and me. Everyone could hate it, too, if they chose to. I just loved her like I'd never loved anyone else, and I wanted her to be mine—

The bell above the entrance rang again. I heard clumping footsteps, like biker boots. A chill went down my spine. I could sense who was there and I wasn't filled with glee. I felt Sam tense as I held her, and her knuckles scraped my back as they clenched. I patted her back to comfort her, but I could tell it wouldn't work. If Sam got mad, you'd just have to back off while she did her damage.

"Well, howdy, lovebirds," the malicious tone of Crusher's voice said. I moved away from Sam and into his evilly vicious eyes, and he smirked at me. His arms were crossed so that the tattoo on his arm bulged; it was a knife.

"What up, Cletus?" I asked casually. His smirk became a sneer at that, and his eyes flashed with fury. He uncrossed his arms and the knife flexed dangerously.

"Watch your tone, Benson," he said, pointing a beefy finger at me, "I might not flatten you into a pancake if you do." He'd pound me either way so I held no fear. Okay, yes I did—my knees were shaking—but I wasn't backing down. Then I say stand up to these bullies. Spencer's voice rang through my brain. Then I'll do that, I thought in response.

"Do what you may, Cletus," I said, "You aren't stopping anything." He snarled at me and the vein in his temple began to throb in anger. He certainly looked intimidating: bared teeth, narrowed eyes, muscles bigger than a MMA fighter, and that sickening purple vein. I bet I looked like a Christmas elf compared to him.

"Yo, Crusher, where's Carly?" Sam said. I blinked and looked around: Carly was nowhere to be seen. Not that I wasn't glad (she couldn't provoke Crusher) but I was definitely curious. You'd think she'd have a front row seat to watch her beau pummel her ex. But she wasn't there at all.

'Course, who'd want to be there? All the kids who'd been laughing before had noticed the tension and snuck out quickly. T-Bo had disappeared into the kitchen. We were the only three left.

Crusher shrugged with a growl. "Don't know, don't care, Blondie."

"Sam." I said, "Her name is—"

"Like I care, nerd!" Crusher shouted, spraying spit over my face.

"I care." I replied. His shoulders moved up and down as he breathed quicker, angrier. I felt something welcoming come into my hand—Sam's. My security blanket. I squeezed it. Crusher smirked when he caught our hands intertwined.

"Aw, so sweet." he mocked, "What a Kodak moment." His hand reached out and grabbed my shirt collar, yanking me away from Sam and up into the air. "Too bad I don't have a camera." I was thrown five feet away and crashed into a nearby table, making it collapse under my weight. Crusher looked down at me in happy rage.

"Wish I had a camcorder for this—" he said, raising his fist as he ran at me. But there was a sick thwack as another fist hit him. He spun to glare at Sam, and I saw a lump forming in the back of his head. My girl, I thought.

"Tough, Blondie," Crusher spat, "Too tough." I saw him make a move for her when the bell rang again. We all stopped as we whipped our heads to see who had entered.

Her brownish-black hair was frazzled and her skin looked paler than ever. Her brown eyes ogled at the scene in terror and her mouth was hanging open in astonishment. She looked at Crusher, then at me, and then at Sam.

"What're you doing here, Shay?" Sam barked.