Chapter Three: Carly's POV

I saw the two looking at each other in that way, and I just knew: It was time to move on from Freddie. I'd been hanging on to the memory too long, and I needed to let him go. Being with Sam was obviously what he wanted, and if I really loved him, I needed to let him be with her and be happy again.

I saw the way Sam had built her iron walls back up during those two years. It showed with her actions, words, even her posture. That, and I just knew her too well for her to fool me with her tough outer core.

After that day at the Groovy Smoothy, we hung out almost every day, at my house, at Freddie's, at school, anywhere. We even went up to the iCarly studio, Freddie's equipment he never took back now gathering dust. Freddie didn't go to studio. He wasn't ready yet. I thought that may be the one thing he never really would recover from.

One day, when Sam and I went up to the studio, Sam said, out of nowhere, "Do you ever wish we did the show anymore?"

"Yeah, all the time," I responded, fiddling with Freddie's antenna, dust collecting on my fingers.

"Me, too," Sam admitted, "but I know Freddie's not ready yet."

"You call him Freddie now." It wasn't a question.

"I do?"

"Yeah," I said. "What happened to all the nicknames? Fredweird? Fredwart? Freducchini? Dishrag?"

"That last one was a personal favorite," Sam laughed cynically to herself. "I may have to pick that up again."

"Not necessarily," I said.

"Eh, I'll talk to the dork about it," she said, shrugging off the conversation, as if to say, "Alright, new topic."

"So, how's Adam?" she asked, wiping the dust off the beanbags and sitting down on her favorite one.

Bitter memories flashed through my mind, and I disguised my shiver as a cough. "Fine," I lied, sitting next to her on my beanbag.

"Please, Carls, I know you better than that," she said, crossing her arms and turning to face me directly, as if to say, "You have my undivided attention, even though you don't want it."

"Seriously, it's fine," I assured her, but she knew I was a terrible liar. She let it go that day at that, but I could tell she was concerned.