[A/N: I didn't want to waste any of my word count on author notes, because I always feel duped when I expect a long story, and most of it is a note instead. But I just want to (1) apologize for taking so long to post this chapter – real life always seems to interfere; (2) thank everyone for the awesome reviews, favorite adds, and story alerts; and (3) explain that in this chapter our two love-crossed protagonists may seem a little OOC, but I think I've kept them pretty consistent; I'm just exploring areas that Dan hasn't yet. I hope everyone is happy, after the long wait, for this chapter. Only a few more left to go! Thanks again, C]
Rule 5 [part one]: Just when you think you have Sam all figured out…
Sam's heart skipped not one, not two, but three beats, then resumed pumping again at an alarming rate. She could feel all the blood drain from her face, then return in a rush that deafened her to anything. A sick taste rose to the back of her throat, and she fought twin urges to either cry or punch. As the blood pounded relentlessly in her head, she struggled to keep her composure as she looked across at the boy she considered one of her best friends, and maybe… But no.
He was looking at her with concern and fear, and she could see his lips moving as he spoke to her, but it took a few minutes for it to filter through the riot between her ears. "Say something, Sam."
Sam laughed instinctively, cruelly, cynically. "Wow, Fredward. I know I've done some horrible stuff to you in the past, but you win. Epically. That was low." She cautiously shook her head, and rose to her feet, hoping she could escape before her emotions took control and she ended up doing or saying something she'd regret. "Tell Carly I had to leave."
"Wait, what?" Freddie jumped to his feet and followed her, cutting off her exit strategy by standing in front of the elevator. "What's going on, Sam? I just told you something pretty important, and now you're bailing?" She could see him beginning to get just as mad, his face flushing red and his eyes turning to dark coals. That vein on his neck that she loved to provoke into appearance was at full attention.
Sam shook her head. "C'mon, Freddie. You and I both know this is some sort of sick revenge. And, hey, in a crazy way, I don't blame you. I would've done it way sooner than this if someone did to me half the chizz I do to you." She tried to get around him, but his new solid frame was harder to circumnavigate. After several thwarted attempts to duck around or under him, she finally just stood her ground and met his eye. "Please move."
"The door to the stairs is right over there," he pointed out, his face a mask of unidentifiable emotions. "Feel free, but you'll have to get through Carly first."
Sam weighed her options. Physically, Carly was no contest, but Sam knew there was no way she'd make it out of the apartment without exploding once Carly set in on her. She made a strategic retreat and backed up to the middle of the room. "Obviously you're not done here, so if you have something else to say, speak."
She watched him run frustrated fingers through his hair, making the soft brown tufts stick out every which way. She felt a bizarre need to fix it for him, but held her ground and made him come to her. Which he did, in the way one would approach a feral animal. Slowly, cautiously, knowing at any minute you could get bitten.
Freddie was silent for a few minutes, then let out a laugh. "I should've known this wouldn't go smoothly." He shook his head. "Sam, this isn't some elaborate revenge. I meant what I said. I'm falling in love with you." He grinned wryly. "If anything, your unwillingness to believe it has only pushed me closer to 'fallen' than falling."
Sam stared at him and saw nothing but sincerity reflected in his eyes. She'd always imagined that if some guy had ever been crazy enough to take her on, she'd fall willingly into his hands, grateful that someone could see past her hard exterior. But this? Freddie? She hadn't planned on it being him, hadn't ever even thought of him that way. Which wasn't strictly true, her conscience prodded her into admitting. In the past few years, as Freddie came into his own, and especially since their kiss, Sam had caught herself on more than one occasion thinking about Freddie… that way. She'd always written it off as a fluke, a natural result of being a hormonal teenage girl in close proximity to a decent-looking, nice teenage boy. And he'd always been safe to think about, because there was never any risk, any chance that he'd ever look at her the same way. After all, he was in love with… "Carly. What about Carly in all of this? What happened to your love for her? Your plan to be her second husband?"
Freddie smiled sheepishly. "It turns out that when I came face-to-face with the possibility of that fate, it wasn't what I wanted. When Carly and I dated, there was no spark. It was nice, comfortable… boring. Like it was when I kissed Melanie. I thought she was you, and I was disappointed when 'Sam' kissed me, that I didn't feel the same fireworks I'd felt the first time. Then, after a few months, I realized that the charge between us, the crackle of electricity, was still there, and the only explanation for it, was that Melanie was real. And it was her that I had kissed."
"You know, it's kind of skeezy that you've kissed me, my twin sister, and my best friend. But that still doesn't explain why or how you've transferred all of these revelations into being in… well, you know… with me." Sam narrowed her eyes at him. "Not that I believe you actually are. I believe that you think you are," she clarified as he started to interrupt. "But, Freddie, we're seventeen years old. Each of us is going to 'fall in love' a dozen times before we ever find the One."
Freddie shook his head, then lifted his right hand to shoulder level. "Put your hand up like this," he told her, then kept moving closer and closer as she did as he said. He didn't stop his progress until there was only half an inch of air separating the two of them. He moved his hand until she could feel the healthy male heat of his hand against her palm, but not actually touching. He moved his left hand up as well, and Sam followed suit with no prompting. She could feel the electricity arcing between the two of them, making the hair on her neck and arms lift, and her breath catch. Stunned, she lifted her eyes to his. His normal, uninteresting brown eyes had melted into pools of dark chocolate. His face was flushed along his cheekbones, and she could feel the same heat in her own face. Slowly he lowered his head, until all that was separating their lips was the same thin veil of air that separated their hands. "At the risk of sounding nerdy," he said, his voice lower than she had ever heard it, "this is what happens when two opposite charges are brought together. The current is completed. It can't work without both the positive and negative."
Sam licked her suddenly dry lips and saw something darken in his gaze. "That was… pretty nerdy," she managed. "But all this proves is that we could probably light a lightbulb with what's between us. There's more to it than that." She reluctantly pulled away, and instantly felt cold. Rubbing her arms, she turned her back to him and paced a few steps away. "Freddie, it's not that I feel nothing. I think it's pretty obvious that I do. But I honestly believe it's just normal teenage infatuation. It would be a longshot to bet that it could be something more, and, as corny as it sounds, I don't know that I'm willing to risk losing you as a friend to find out." Turning back, she saw him mull over her words.
He looked at her with consideration, that infuriating smirk present. "I never thought I'd see the day that Sam Puckett admitted to being a coward."
Of all the things she'd expected, that was the last, and she felt her jaw drop to her chest. "What?"
"You heard me, Samantha. Who'd have ever expected that I, Freddie Benson, would be the brave one, and that you would be chicken?" He shook his head in wonder. "For someone with so much creativity, Sam, you don't have much of an imagination. Yes, when you look at it on paper, the two of us don't make much sense, but there's no denying that we complement each other. We bring out the best – and worst – in each other like no one else can. We're best friends, and we have amazing chemistry. You make me loosen up, and I think I make you more responsible. Positive and negative. We fit."
He slowly began to ease closer to her again, and Sam felt rooted to the spot. She tried to find some hole in his logic, but the only thing that she could think of was that he was going to kiss her, and if he did, she'd be lost. "Don't kiss me," she managed, but she knew, and she could see that he knew, that she didn't mean it.
Nevertheless, he stopped just short of putting his lips to hers. "Fine, I won't. I'll let you kiss me." Confidence and humor filled his face, and Sam wanted nothing more than to knock him down a peg. Well, she almost wanted nothing more. Right now, those lips were looking pretty inviting.
"It's just chemistry," she murmured, more to herself than him. "You're not the One. This isn't love." She lifted her hand to his chest, and felt his heart pounding, and was reassured that she wasn't the only one just this side of a major coronary.
"Whatever you say, Princess Puckett," he agreed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Sam was alternately thrilled and saddened every time he called her by that ridiculous nickname. "Yeah, right, a princess." She laughed. "That's what you deserve, Freddie, and what I'll never be. I'll always be Sam Puckett, the girl from the wrong side of town with the promiscuous mother and the bad attitude." She shook her head, frustration replacing the yearning. She had to make him understand. "You have so much going for you. You don't want to tie yourself to my anchor. Especially not now, a few months before you go off to college."
"You know," he mused, "you put so much energy trying to find reasons why we shouldn't be together, that if you used even half of it to work on a relationship, there's no way it could fail."
"I'm serious, Freddie. I don't want to be the millstone around your neck." She let her hand drop, and replaced it with her forehead. "You're my friend, which is why I want the best for you. And I know I'm not it. You'll see I'm right."
"Sam…" For the first time since his little electricity experiment, Sam heard the confidence in his voice waver, felt his hands shake a little as he held her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair. "I'm right. Trust me. We belong together."
Sam took a deep breath and pushed away from the safe haven of his arms. "No, Freddie, no we don't. I'll always be your friend, as long as you want me to be, but we can't be anything more." She started walking backwards from him, and the heartbreak and confusion on his face was tearing her apart. She worked up a smile. "But hey, anytime you come home from college and you want a good time, at least you know I'll be willing."
She audibly heard him suck in a breath at that, and saw his face darken. "Don't," he ground out. "Don't take what I feel for you and discard it, and offer me something cheap and meaningless instead. I deserve more than that."
Smiling sadly, Sam pushed the button for the elevator. "That's what I'm trying to tell you." The elevator dinged and she got on, holding his gaze the whole time. As the doors closed, Sam felt her heart break into a million shards, and it was all she could do to keep it together.
Running out of the lobby, oblivious to Lewbert's shouting, Sam ran headlong into someone entering the building at the same time. Sam staggered back a few steps and regained her balance, but her victim wasn't so lucky. Sam extended a hand to help the woman up, only to find that it was the second-to-last person she wanted to see right now: Freddie's mom.
She acknowledged Sam with a curt nod, and disapproving pursed lips. "Samantha."
"Sorry, Mrs. Benson. I was just leaving." Sam started to walk out, then turned back. "Mrs. Benson," she began, and waited until the older woman turned back around to hear her out. "Tell him that I'm right. He deserves so much more, and I can't ever offer it to him. If you love him as much as you seem to, don't let him settle on me." And with that, Sam walked out of the Bushwell, blinking back tears, and started running towards home.