Present, Sam's POV
I rarely over-thought things. Generally, I was an impulse girl. But tonight, I had found myself pondering my outfit, hair, and makeup for way more than necessary for a simple dinner with friends. Carly had even called to assure me that we were eating spaghetti tacos, and there was no need to dress up. In the end, I looked as I normally did. Green t-shirt, jeans, simple makeup with a swipe of lip gloss, and hardly tamed curls. I chided myself repeatedly as I ran my fingers through my hair once more. This was Carly and Freddie. It wasn't a date. So, why was I taking so much time to make myself look presentable? I pulled myself away from the mirror and forced myself to drive towards her house, along the streets I knew so well.
"Sam!" Carly cried, pulling me into a hug as soon as she saw me in her doorway. "I've missed you so much!" I couldn't help but to grin as she crushed me in a tight embrace. She seemed exactly the same, yet there was something different too.
"We talked yesterday on the phone," I said, stepping inside her apartment. It looked almost identical to when we were teenagers and still filming iCarly. I'd been back to this place since then, but I was still struck by the similarity.
"We talked, but I still haven't seen you in months," Carly said. "Freddie isn't here yet, and Spencer is finishing up the spaghetti tacos." She gestured towards the couch. I remembered sitting there while preparing for iWake up Spencer segments with Freddie in the middle of the night. I remembered watching fan videos and eating endless amounts of meatballs, Fat cakes, and smoothies. It was quite a couch. It'd been through a lot.
Carly and I sat down, but before a second had passed, the doorbell rang. She jumped to her feet to answer it. She hugged Freddie tightly and allowed him entrance into her abode. He waved to me, and I returned the gesture. I couldn't help but to feel a little awkward around him. I still wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do about the situation, but I would figure it out soon.
Suddenly, Spencer yelled from the kitchen. "Spaghetti tacos are ready! Let's eat!"
I grinned because I'd almost forgotten how Spencer's voice sounded. My mouth watered with the thought of the meal. I'd attempted to make spaghetti tacos once by myself, but they weren't as good as I'd remembered and they actually made me a little sad. Also, my roommate, Ashley had stared at me funnily when she saw what I had made us for dinner. She'd eaten a microwave meal that night.
We gathered around the dinner table. I sat between Carly and Spencer, across from Freddie. Grabbing a large spoonful of marinara-drenched noodles, I filled my taco shell and set it down on my plate.
"Just like old times," said Spencer, smiling as he prepared to take a large bite from his taco. I studied him. In his face, it struck me just how much time had passed. Surely, he was nearing forty by now. He'd probably seen his first gray hair. In my head, Spencer was perpetually young, but on the outside, he would not be forever.
I took a bite, letting the food take over. I was certainly glad that I hadn't dressed up because I was soon speckled with tiny sauce stains which I rubbed away roughly with my napkin.
"So, how's work?" asked Carly, daintily dabbing her mouth with her napkin.
"It's going well," Freddie said. "The kids are good. I haven't had any major problems yet, and I actually am really enjoying work so far. What about you, Sam?"
"Um... You know, it is what is. I've never really liked children. Some of my students have promise, seem cool. But some of them just bug the crap out of me."
"You haven't said that to their faces, have you?" asked Carly.
"No," I replied, though I had seriously considered it. "So, how's journalism going?"
"Okay, so far. I've written a lot of obituaries so far," Carly said. "It's very depressing work. I hope I can get promoted to the local news section soon. Eventually, I might actually get to do the front-page, exciting news. But that could be years."
"Boyfriend?" I asked.
"Well... yes, kind of."
"Kind of?"
"Well, he was my boyfriend... Now, he's my fiance." With that, Carly flashed her engagement ring. I hadn't even noticed it. She had turned the diamond to the inside of her hand so it looked like an ordinary band. Probably, she'd wanted to save the reveal for later, along with a little more drama.
"Who?" I asked, breaking into a smile.
"Kevin," said Spencer in a goofy voice. "He asked me for approval and everything. He asked me for approval. I found that very amusing."
"It was gentlemanly and sweet," insisted Carly. Then she smiled more brightly than I'd ever seen her. "He's the best guy I've ever dated. No offense, Freddie."
"None taken," he said.
"After all, we were like thirteen, so..."
"Fifteen, wasn't it?"
"Hmm... maybe. Anyway, Kevin is the greatest. He is so smart, really nice. He understands me so well. Don't worry, you guys will definitely be part of the wedding. I'm not sure when it will be yet, but..." She sighed happily.
"Okay, that's nice and all... But let's stop with the mushiness, please?" I said, finishing off my first spaghetti taco and reaching for another.
"Sorry," Carly apologized, still grinning.
"So, what happened to Gibby?" asked Freddie, taking a large bite of his food.
"You guys won't believe this," she began with a small giggle. "So, do you guys know the Gib-bars? They sell them at movie theaters... and K-Mart."
"Um, yeah. I love those things. They're like chocolate, caramel deliciousness in 100 calories or less. Although I've always doubted that," I said. Surely they were too scrumptious to actually be healthy.
"Well, they were invented by Charles Gibson. Gibby! Not only that, but he has a bunch of other flavors. Only in Seattle, they sell Shay-Bars, Puckett-Bars, and Benson-Bars. You know, after us."
"What? How did I not know this?" I demanded.
"They're kind of a local thing. Mine is strawberry flavored with white chocolate. Freddie's is raspberry-dark chocolate. And yours, Sam, is vanilla with ham. It's not a top seller, but it has a very loyal following. Gibby refuses to drop the flavor. I think he really wants you to try it."
She got up from her chair then and reached into the cupboard. "I bought you a box. I'm not a fan, but you'll love it."
I stared at the box of Puckett-Bars. They looked absolutely mouth-watering. I licked my lips, dropped my taco on my plate, and tore open the cardboard. I split the aluminum wrapper and took a large bite of my namesake. My taste buds erupted into the Hallelujah chorus with the first taste. "Gibby is a genius," I said.
While I stuffed my face with Puckett-Bars, Carly turned to Spencer and asked him to give some updates on his life.
"Not much has changed," Spencer started. "I got a few of my sculptures into museums. There's this one made that's based on Mr. Potato-Head made of real potatoes! It kind of rotted a little, but the museum sprays air freshener and it's all good. I started a few more fires, but no major ones. Oh, and my girlfriend and I are celebrating our six month anniversary next week!"
"That's like a record for him," Carly noted.
"Spencer? Settling down?" I said in shock.
"Not yet," he said. "But she actually seems to accept my eccentricities and embrace my artistry. In fact, I could see myself spending the rest of my life with her." With that, Spencer's eyes drifted off to the side and he became absorbed into a daydream.
I grimaced. All these lovey-dovey people were making me feel nauseous. Okay, and maybe a little jealous too, but mostly nauseous. Absentmindedly, I found my gaze flitting over towards Freddie. When he met my eyes, I quickly stuffed another Puckett-Bar into my mouth and averted my gaze.
After dinner, Spencer went upstairs to work on some art project involving lots of spray paint. His studio had claimed the area we used to perform iCarly. The three of us went into Carly's room to chat. It still looked nearly the same from when we'd remodeled it after it burned down. She'd removed a few of the overly girly objects and replaced them with more mature furniture and accessories, but it retained the appearance of a teenage girl's dream bedroom. But it was fitting anyway.
Carly had come up with an idea to break the ice a bit more and to recap the last few years. "So, I'm going to set a timer, and you all have one minute to retell the last seven years of your lives. Full sentences are discouraged," Carly said. She grabbed her Pear Phone from her desk and opened the stopwatch application. "I'll go first. Time me, Freddie." She handed him her phone.
"Go," he said, tapping the screen.
"Went to college. Wrote a million essays. Interviewed and researched constantly. Got a boyfriend, Kevin. Broke up. Graduated. Got back together with ex. Got job at Seattle Tribune. Wrote obituaries. Sad because Ms. Briggs was never one of them. Helped Spencer get a girlfriend. Went to England for vacation. Volunteered at animal shelter. Got engaged. Went—"
"Time!" Freddie called out. "Good job."
"Yeah. Think I covered just about everything. Okay, your turn, Freddie." She took back her phone and started the time.
"Started at Stanford. Took lots of tough classes. Became overwhelmed. Changed focus to teaching. Avoided parties and studied all day. Um... felt kind of lonely. Graduated in top ten percent. Student-taught in suburbs. Hired at Ridgeway. Got hit on by Ms. Briggs. Met kids—"
"Done," said Carly. "Now you, Sam."
I breathed in deeply. I didn't want to over-think this. I just wanted to let the words flow out, and I didn't want to lie. Carly told me to start. "Went to Berklee. Stupid roommates every year. Music theory and composition were the best. Wrote lots of songs, recorded demos. Nothing came about... Got boyfriend. He wrote songs for me, made a CD. Broke up. Came back to Seattle. Found job somehow. And now I'm here." I stopped exactly as Carly called time.
I'd only had a minute to describe the last seven years. If I'd had longer, I would probably have admitted the endless nights of crying myself to sleep. The awkward dating experiences. The unsatisfiable longing that haunted me in every dream. I didn't want to admit these things out loud, so I was glad to have only had a minute.
After the brief sharing sessions, we settled into conversation. Carly shared some gossip about our old high school friends. I described a few concerts I'd attended. Freddie kind of ruined everything when he started going on about some boring tech experiment. While he talked, I found myself lost in a memory.
May, Senior Year of College
"So, what was that thing you were telling me about on the phone?" I asked Alex as I entered his dorm room. It was a typical boy's room, except he appeared to have made a small effort to pick up the dirty clothes from the floor and clean off his desk.
"New song," he replied. He grabbed his guitar from its case in the corner and took a seat on his bed. "It's for the album, the last one I wrote. We'll probably have it all mixed by the end of the summer, ready for release."
"Great," I said. I was happy for his success, really. I knew how much Alex and his band members loved their music, and they'd worked incredibly hard for this. However, I was still a tiny bit jealous because the same wasn't working out for me. "What's it called?"
He paused and drifted his fingers across the strings before replying, "It's called 'She Doesn't'."
"Doesn't what?" I asked. I was well aware that the album was almost completely about me because Alex did practically all of the lyric writing and apparently, I was the main source of inspiration. So, what did the title mean?
"You'll see," he said. Then, he began playing, finger-picking out a melody. Alex began singing soon after, his lightly gravelly voice filling the room although he sung softly. The chorus went,
"And I love her so much
And I know she sees
But no matter what I do
She just doesn't love me."
When I heard those words, I felt my heart pound harder in my chest and I grew uncomfortable standing in the middle of his room. He didn't sing it with a hint of anger or bitterness, just calm acceptance. He knew. How couldn't he know? It wasn't like I'd tried very hard to hide what I felt.
When he finished his song, Alex looked back up at me and shrugged as if to say, 'Are you going to deny it or what?'
I wish I could have said something sweet, nice, comforting. I wish I could be the perfect girlfriend, and that I could console him and convince him of my love. But I couldn't. I had to stop leading him on at some point. And that point had to be today.
"I'm sorry," I said, simply.
"There's someone else, isn't there?" he asked. Tears didn't rag his voice, though I could tell how hurt he was.
I could only nod.
"When? Who?"
"His name is Freddie. He was my boyfriend in high school and... And I was so stupid to let him go. I know it sounds so dumb. I was only eighteen, but I think he's the closest I've ever come to love. He's in California now, at Stanford. It's been four years, but I still think about him constantly."
I paused and looked at him, tears clouding my vision. "Alex, you were the only one I let in this whole time. I care about you a lot, and you're a great guy. You're just... you're not him."
"I know," he replied. "I'm not mad. I'm not angry. I'm glad to have met you, gotten to know you. You gave me a lot of smiles, a lot of songs. I'll miss you and your ham addiction, but I have to let you go now. You've got to go find him again."
"But what if I can't? What if he's gone or... he's found someone else?"
Alex shrugged. "I've found that usually things work out all right in the end. If that means you find each other again... I think it's going to happen."
"Thank you," I said. "Thank you for not being mad, for understanding. And I know you'll find someone in the end too. Someone great. You're a good guy."
"And you're an awesome girl. So, get out there and find him."
"I will." I laughed through the tears. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Puckett."
Present
I checked the clock, 10:30. "Well," I said. "I need to be heading home. I have a lot of papers to grade this weekend, and I'm have to come up with a project for my Composition students."
"Wow, Sam, you're so responsible," said Freddie.
I stuck my tongue out at him. "A lot has changed about me."
"I've noticed."
I didn't know what exactly he meant by that, but I waved and headed for the door. However, when I made it to the street and my car, something was wrong. My car refused to start no matter how many times I turned the key. Unfortunately, I was no expert when it came to vehicles. With a loud sigh, I returned to the apartment.
"I'm going to need a ride," I announced. "My car broke down."
"I'll drive you," Freddie said, standing up from his chair. "It's no problem. I was going to head out anyway."
Carly looked at me meaningfully, eyes flashing between the two of us. I flushed and tried to ignore her. "Sure. Thanks, Fredward."
"Let's go," he said.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Next chapter will have some Seddie moments. I feel like they're a little OOC in this chapter, but I think the next will be better. Review and give any suggestions/comments that you have. Thank you!