Freddie's POV
Sam wasn't looking at me. She was staring out the window, her head propped up sideways on the glass. Outside it was drizzling and the rain drops left paths on the windshield, which were quickly erased and by the wipers and replaced again in new patterns. Headlights shone through the darkness, and Sam's pale hair seemed to glow in their beams.
My heart shouldn't have been beating so fast. This was me driving home a friend, a colleague. But, against my will, I felt the palpitations pounding within my chest. Deep breaths, I lectured myself.
"I hope nothing's seriously wrong with your car," I said, flipping off the radio with a dull click and deciding to fill the silence with my voice instead of the wailing of a currently popular pop chanteuse.
"Yeah. Carly said she'd call some people to come and fix it, but that won't happen until tomorrow. Good thing we don't have work then."
"I would have checked it out for you—"
"Oh, Fredward, don't go and pretend your some mechanics expert. It's really not impressing me."
"Who said I was trying to impress you?"
"No one needs to tell me. It's pretty obvious." I shook my head at her, utterly baffled. What had I done to quote-on-quote 'impress' her? In fact, I'd made a rather conscious effort to act as normal as possible.
"Okay, Sam, there's no need to make things up. I did nothing of the kind. How about we change the subject to something more rooted in reality?"
"Oh, come on, Frednerd. If you weren't trying to impress me with your stupid tech talk and that... outfit, then what were you doing?"
I glanced down at what I was wearing. It was just a short-sleeved blue polo shirt and jeans. "What's wrong with my outfit?"
It was dark outside, but I could still tell Sam was blushing as her eyes darted away from mine. I grinned. She'd noticed the work I'd put into my arms since I'd last seen her. I'd actually had a lot of time to work out these last few years. After all, I had barely any friends during college.
She mumbled something unintelligible, then changed the subject. "Turn right," she said, directing me towards her new apartment.
"So, you managed to move out of your mom's place?" I asked as I rotated the wheel. That was probably a very good thing as Pam had seemed to get gradually more and more crazy each new year.
"Yep," she said. "Endless shifts at McDonald's, selling a couple songs. That will do it. How about you, Benson? Escape Crazy's house yet?"
"Yes," I replied, sharply. "And don't call my mother Crazy. She just wants what's best for me. That's not crazy. It's nice."
"Well, then, she's way too nice."
"You know, you could be a little more like her. You know, caring, supportive, decent. It'd be a positive change."
Her head snapped around to face me. "You want me to be more like your mother? Are you serious right now?"
"I don't think it could hurt."
"Fine. I'll start now. Both hand on the wheel, because when you're paralyzed it's hard to feel," she sang. I had to admit, even to the tune of an insipid nursery rhyme, Sam's voice sounded absolutely beautiful. Then, she reached across and grabbed my right hand and shoved it atop the steering wheel.
I felt my hand jerk away from hers subconsciously. So juvenile, like she was the girl in kindergarten that I was convinced had cooties or something. Except that wasn't why I'd shied away from her touch. It was because I felt something when our hands brushed. I took a deep breath and pushed the feelings down, so I could ignore them for however long I had to. This was nothing new.
"Left," Sam said. With both hands firmly gripping the wheel, I turned.
"Left," she said again. "I said left."
It became obvious that I had accidentally turned right. "Whoops," I muttered. "Sorry."
"Does someone need to review their directions again?" she taunted, leaning back in her seat as if to say 'This is going to be a long ride.' Quickly she composed another rhyme. "Remember that the direction right is the hand with which little Freddie writes." She made her voice sound like my mother's. It was actually a pretty good imitation.
Somehow, I found a loop to turn around in. It seemed as if all cars had vacated the area, leaving us completely alone. This shouldn't happen. We were in Seattle, a major city, yet it felt impossibly quiet.
"It was nice to be together, the three of us, again," I noted while making the correct turn this time. "It seemed almost like the old days."
"Key word being almost," Sam said.
"What do you mean?"
"You could practically taste the awkward the whole time. Things are so different now. Spencer is in a steady relationship. Carly is engaged. Gibby is doing something somewhat normal. I'm a teacher. And you're..."
"I'm what?"
She whispered something I couldn't catch.
"What?"
"You're not with me." Then she moved her entire body so as not to gauge my expression. I stared at her back and clutched the steering wheel to keep from falling out of my seat with shock.
I didn't say anything, just gulped down the random, garbled phrases that rushed to my tongue. It wouldn't be wise to vocalize them. So I was silent, making things all together worse.
"Okay, let's ignore the last part. What's up with Spencer and his girlfriend?" Sam giggled awkwardly.
"Yeah, that sure was weird," I said. "Who would've thought?"
"About time though. His relationships never lasted longer than, like, a week. Like a one episode plot device on a sitcom."
Then Sam directed me for three more turns before we arrived at her apartment. It looked a bit nicer than her old one, cleaner at least. She opened the car door, and I watched her leave.
"Can I walk you back to your apartment?" I called to her retreating back.
She looked at me with a confused expression on her face. The lights of my car lit up her face, and she looked nearly angelic. My stomach clenched. I missed her so much. "Um, I know the way, Benson. Thanks for the useless offer."
"Yeah, obviously." I laughed nervously. "Well, I'll see you on Monday. We should do this again. It was... fun."
"You could call it that." She didn't seem to agree that 'fun' was the correct adjective. Unfortunately, I had to concur. By the end, awkward seemed a more apt description.
"Goodbye, Sam."
"Bye." Then she walked away, disappearing as she drifted away from the glare of my headlights.
April, Senior Year of High School
I was at Carly's apartment. Sam was sick with some kind of fever that was highly contagious, and Carly had just rushed off to meet somebody for a school project. This left me alone with Spencer. I could have left too, but my mother was in a particularly strange mood today. Plus, she had made some weird asparagus-carrot dip the night before, and I knew she'd force it upon me if I returned home.
Spencer was painting some old McDonald's toys in neon colors for his new sculpture. "Can I help?" I asked. He nodded, deeply absorbed in painting a mini-Barbie bright green. I reached for the bright turquoise and a toy skateboard.
After completely coating the tiny doll in paint, Spencer set it on a drying rack and smiled, satisfied. "So, how are you these days, Freddie?" he asked, reaching for another figurine to drench with color.
"Great. It's hard to believe that high school's gonna be over in just over a month. Then, it's off to Stanford."
"Oh, Stanford. California," he said, dipping his paintbrush in yellow. "What about Sam?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, it's likely that you're gonna be separated. You know, by a lot."
"Well yeah. But we're not breaking up or anything. Things are going great," I replied. They were, weren't they? Suddenly, I found doubts creeping into my thoughts. Spencer was right of course. I didn't know where Sam had been accepted to. What if it was to Berklee like she'd wanted so much? That was on the whole other side of the country.
"You know, I think I knew that it was you two since the very beginning. That little crush you had Carly forever ago just never went anywhere. But you and Sam... Well, we all know what happened. You guys are just too cute."
"Spencer, you're embarrassing me."
"Sorry. I just can't help myself." After he finished painting another toy, he looked at me seriously. "So, why aren't you at Sam's house?"
"Because she's sick. She doesn't want me to catch it."
"Sam? Staying in bed? That doesn't sound like her. She must be pretty miserable."
"I know. Usually, she's up and about even when she's really ill. She's got to be super sick."
"So, why are you here? Go on!"
I laughed. "Yeah, I'll see you later, Spencer. I've got someone to see."
Present
As I lay alone on my bed, returned from driving home Sam, I made myself a promise. This useless waiting around and awkwardness was going to stop. I was going to do something about this. On Monday, I would ask out Sam to the Groovy Smoothie. At least if it didn't work out too well we would have food to distract ourselves. Because when it came down to it, I needed Sam back.
Wow, I'm so sorry for the delay. Writer's block + vacation = no updates. I think this will probably have 3-4 chapters left, though I'm not sure. Please comment and I'd also love some ideas for flashbacks. It's summer now, so I'm hoping for faster updates now. Also, I just wrote the first chapter for another multi-chapter Seddie story, so check that out soon.