Going
"I can't believe Freddie's taking you out to the fanciest restaurant in Seattle," Carly sighed enviously as the two girls sat up in her room. "Most high school guys take their dates to the Purple Lobster or maybe The Cheesecake Warehouse if they're feeling extra adventurous. Not elegant, high-class French restaurants."
"Eh, the portions are much better at The Cheesecake Warehouse to tell you the truth," Sam smirked. "I looked this place up online. It's really snooty looking."
"Duh, it's French," Carly said, rolling her eyes. "What are you not excited?"
"No, I am," Sam said. "I love going out on dates with him and all. But a super fancy restaurant? I mean there's gonna be twelve different forks, weird names for all the food that I won't know how to pronounce, that place has probably never even heard of barbecue sauce…."
"Well still, it will be fun for you to get all dressed up and have a nice time," Carly reasoned. "I mean you just bought that dress today, and it looks great on you."
"Yeah, that's true," Sam nodded.
"Hey, speaking of which, shouldn't you be getting ready? Freddie's picking you up at seven, right?"
"Six," Sam shrugged. "So I've still got plenty of time."
"Um, Sam?" Carly frowned. "It's five thirty!"
"What?" Sam exclaimed, jumping up. "Why didn't you tell me? Aw man, now I've got to get all dolled up in thirty minutes! I have to shower, my hair's a mess, I've got to do my make-up…"
"Alright, alright, we can do this!" Carly said. "Um…here! I got this dry shampoo a couple weeks ago. You can use this so you can skip a shower, and you can just double up on the perfume. I'll go plug in the curling iron while you-"
Just then her phone began to ring.
"Hold on, it's Spencer," Carly sighed as she answered her phone. "Hello? What? Spencer! How many times do I have to tell you that that gate is there for a reason? I'll be there in a sec…just don't do anything else until I get there!"
"You can't leave me!" Sam said anxiously as Carly hung up. "You have to help me get ready for the fanciest date of my life in twenty-five minutes!"
"I'm sorry, but I have to," Carly said. "Spencer upset one of the guard dogs at the junk yard again. But you're quick at getting ready. Compared to me at least. And I'm sure Freddie won't mind waiting a few extra minutes for you."
"Pfft, you kidding?" Sam scoffed. "That nub's the definition of punctual. Whatever…I just won't shave my pits. French people don't do that anyway, right?"
"Um…sure," Carly said, grabbing her jacket. "Well, have fun tonight, Sam! I'll see you later!"
…
"Tie? Check. Fancy dinner jacket? Check. Alright, Benson, time to take your girl out for the date of her lifetime," Freddie said happily as he stepped across the hall to the Shay's apartment where he was supposed to be picking Sam up. As he opened the door, though, he nearly collided with Carly.
"Sorry!" Carly said.
"Where are you rushing off to?" Freddie chuckled.
"Spencer had another run in with a guard dog," Carly sighed.
"Ah," Freddie nodded. "Well I'm just here to pick up Sam. We're going out to that new French restaurant. I had to put our names in for the reservation last month."
"Yeah, she told me," Carly said. "She's actually still getting ready now."
"That's okay, we still have twenty minutes before we need to leave," Freddie shrugged, looking at his watch. "I'll just wait for her down here. You go ahead and rescue Spencer. Again."
"I know I've said it before," Carly said, shaking her head. "But I cannot believe that man is in charge of me."
As Carly headed out the door, Freddie sat down on the couch and turned on the T.V. He was really excited about his and Sam's date tonight. A couple of his aunts and uncles had sent him his birthday money early, so he figured he'd take advantage of his sudden wealth by treating his girlfriend to an amazing date. Besides, his mom had crashed their last date by actually showing up at the restaurant because she was afraid of her precious son consuming undercooked meat, so he figured they needed a real date to make up for that. He glanced at his watch again. It was a quarter till six. He knew he wasn't supposed to officially pick up Sam for another fifteen minutes, but maybe he should tell her to try to move things along a little quicker. The restaurant was twenty minutes away and it was looking like rain outside, and he knew that if they were even two minutes late, the restaurant would give their table away.
He started up the stairs to Carly's room and gave a quick knock.
"Hey, baby," he said. "So, um, would you be okay with us leaving a few minutes early? The restaurant has a strict policy about being there right at your reservation time and I don't want them to give our table away."
"You want me ready early?" Sam snapped. "Dude, it's gonna be at least another twenty minutes as it is!"
"Twenty?" Freddie repeated. "Sam I told you I was picking you up at six!"
"Well I got…distracted," Sam said lamely. "Fine, fine, I can try to be ready sooner. But this dang curling iron keeps giving me problems! It keeps getting knotted in-ah! It's stuck!"
"In your hair?"
"No, I was curling my toenails!" Sam snapped. "Yes in my hair!"
"Well I'll come help you get it out," Freddie said, making to open the door.
"No!" Sam said. "I-I'm not dressed yet."
Freddie couldn't help but laugh. "Sam, I think that ship has sailed."
"Ugh, fine!" Sam conceded. "Come on."
Freddie opened up the door and saw his girlfriend slouched down by Carly's vanity, the curling iron hanging uselessly from her golden locks.
"Alright, I'm sure I can get it out," Freddie said. "And then we can hurry up and leave so we make our reservations and-"
"Ow!" Sam snapped. "You're pulling my hair!"
"Well how else am I supposed to get this thing out?" Freddie defended. "It's really stuck! Why did you do this?"
"Oh because I thought a curling iron hanging form my head would just be the perfect accessory!"
"Alright…seems like we're doubling up on the sass tonight," Freddie mumbled, trying to gently remove the iron. "Hmmm…maybe if I get some scissors I can just-"
"No way!" Sam said at once. "You're not cutting my hair!"
"Oh come on, you probably wouldn't even notice."
"No!" Sam said firmly. "You cut my hair, this relationship ends!"
"Alright, I won't cut it!" Freddie said. "Alright, um, I can…I guess I can just keep trying to pull it out."
"Gently," Sam warned.
"Well is there something you can do to get ready while I'm doing this?" Freddie asked, looking at his watch again. "We need to leave in like, ten minutes."
"Um…yeah, I guess if you don't yank my hair again I can get my make-up on," Sam said. "That way when you get the curler on I'll just need to throw on my shoes and dress."
"Okay good, do that," Freddie nodded as he helped Sam up and stepped over to the mirror with her.
"This is the last time I ever listen to Carly and use this stupid thing," Sam sighed as she began applying her foundation. "It burns me, ruins my hair, gets stuck…man, guys have it so easy. I bet you got ready in, what, five minutes?"
"Thirty," Freddie defended. "I soaked in the tub-I mean…yeah, I-I was ready in five."
"You're such a chick," Sam smirked. "And are you making any progress?"
"Actually, yeah, I am," Freddie nodded. "It's loosening up a little bit! Okay, I think if I just keep working on it I'll have it out soon."
"My hair's going to look like such a mess," Sam moaned.
"Baby, you could have a thousand curling irons hanging from your hair, and I'd still think it'd look beautiful," Freddie said swiftly.
"You're just saying that because you don't want me to waste anymore time on it," Sam said, rolling her eyes.
"Nope, because it's true," Freddie said. "But, um, on that same note-"
"Relax, I'll just take a couple bobby pins and fix it in the car," Sam assured him as she applied a layer of lipstick. "Alright, make-up's done! Now will you just get that stupid thing off me?"
"I'm trying!" Freddie said. "I think if I just go like that…yes! I got it!"
He pulled the curling iron from his girlfriend's hair and tossed it onto Carly's bed. "Okay, now hurry up and get dressed so we can go! We're five minutes behind schedule, but if we get all the lights, we should be able to make it."
…..
"What time is it?" Sam panted as her and Freddie raced into the French restaurant.
"Six-forty," Freddie replied. "We're late. But maybe there's a chance that they didn't give our table away yet…"
The couple hurried over to the server at the front of the restaurant.
"Table for two," Freddie said breathlessly. "Name's under Benson."
"Ah yes," the server sighed. "Your reservation was for six-thirty. You're ten minutes late."
"Yeah, um, we-we know," Freddie said. "But see, we had a mishap with a curling iron and then there was a traffic jam up the road from here and-"
"I'm sorry sir, but I had to give your table away," the server told him.
"But we're only ten minutes late!" Sam exclaimed.
"Yes, however we have a strict reservation policy," the server explained.
"Well, um, how long would it be to just wait for a table?" Freddie asked.
"Approximately three hours."
"Three hours?" Freddie moaned.
"Come on, baby," Sam sighed, taking his hand. "Let's just go. We can't sit around all night waiting. You need to be back before your mom's shift at the hospital ends."
"Yeah…alright," Freddie mumbled.
As the couple walked back to the car, Sam squeezed his hand gently. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's all my fault we were late. If I had just-"
"Don't worry about it, Sam, it was an accident," Freddie told her. "Besides, this place seems real snooty. Who gives your table away if you're ten minutes late?"
"They're total jerks," Sam agreed.
"I guess…I guess we can just try to find someplace else to get dinner," Freddie said. "Though I'm not sure what's around here."
"Well just drive for a little bit and see what we find," Sam said.
The two got back in the car and began driving down the road. About five minutes later, Sam glanced out her window.
"Hey, there's something up there," she said. "That little place up ahead…Bucky's Burgers…"
"You wanna just stop there?" Freddie asked.
"I'm down for any place with the word 'burger' in the name," Sam smirked.
Freddie pulled into the parking lot and the couple stepped inside.
It was far less fancy than the French restaurant. There was a strong scent of French fries in the air, and there weren't even any waiters around.
"Well, this isn't the elegant evening I had in mind for us," Freddie said heavily. "I pictured us eating French cheeses and sparkling ciders…not burgers."
"Hey, they have French fries," Sam pointed out. "Come on, baby, we-we can try again some other night. Let's just get some food, I'm starving."
"Yeah, okay," Freddie nodded, stepping up to the counter.
"Hi, what can I get for you?" the cashier asked.
"Hi, can I get two Bucky Burgers, two fries and a couple of drinks?" Freddie asked.
Sam cleared her throat.
"Sorry," Freddie chuckled. "Can I get four Bucky burgers, five fries, and three milkshakes?"
"Sure thing," the cashier smiled. "That will be ten dollars."
"For all that food?" Freddie frowned. "You sure you counted all the milkshakes?"
"Yes, we're known for our low prices," the cashier nodded.
"Oh, well…great!" Freddie said, handing over a couple of bills. "I guess that's one upside of not going to that restaurant."
"Here's your food," the cashier said, sliding out a large tray. "You can take a seat anywhere you'd like."
"Wow, much faster service than what we would've gotten too," Sam grinned, picking up the food. "Come on, let's get that table over there by the window. We can have a romantic view of the parking lot."
The couple sat down at their table and unwrapped the tinfoil from their burgers.
"These look a lot better than anything I've seen from Inside-Out Burger," Freddie commented as Sam took a bite. "How are they?"
"Oh my God!" Sam said. "This-This is the best burger I've ever had in my life! Taste it, Fredgut, it's like the flavors of the meat and the sauce and the cheese all flow in the perfect mixture down your throat!"
"Sam, it's a burger," Freddie said, picking up his own. "I'm sure it's fine. It's not exactly a culinary-holy chiz, this is amazing!"
"I told you!" Sam grinned.
"I-I didn't know things were allowed to taste this delicious!"
"Right?" Sam laughed. "Man, we've got to get some of these to go!"
"Yeah, I'd bet Carly and Spencer would love them," Freddie said. "We should bring them some too. I mean we are always eating their food."
"I almost don't want to finish this," Sam said, smiling happily down at her meal. "It's too perfect to be gone."
"Guess this night didn't turn out half-bad," Freddie said, helping himself to a French fry.
"Yeah, this definitely beats eating snail," Sam nodded. "We'll have to come back here again some time."
"For sure," Freddie agreed. "Good food, super cheap prices, what more could I ask for?"
"It's like this place was made for us," Sam said, reaching for his hand underneath the table. "Anyway, Freddie. I know this wasn't what you had in mind, but…thanks for a great night."
"Any time, princess," Freddie smiled.
Sam glanced out the window. "Hey! There's a giant tire swing out back. Wanna go sit on it after we eat and make out?"
"This place has everything!" Freddie beamed.
