Chapter 3: My Same
Why did you kiss me…
What does this mean…
What are we going to say to Carly…
He could think of a million things to say now when it was, the last time he checked, eight hours too late. Perfect timing.
Freddie had walked home with Carly, Gibby and Brad, he and Gibby dragging Spencer along between them. Upon entering the lobby of Bushwell Plaza, they'd been immediately accosted by the deranged doorman, Lewbert.
"Hey!" Lewbert sneered, leaning over the front desk, absentmindedly twirling the hair in his wart, "No dyin' in my lobby!"
"No one's dying Lewbert." Freddie responded
"I think I might be dying…" Spencer said, raising his head to look at Lewbert. Spencer looked decidedly better than he had at Ridgeway, but he was still a little green in the face.
"Then no lookin' like you're dying. And no pukin' either unless you're gonna clean it up yourself!" Lewbert screamed, lobbing a muffin at Carly's head before retreating to the office behind the desk.
Freddie just shook his head. This day was getting better and better.
By the time they'd reached Carly's floor and deposited Spencer on the couch in the Shays' living room, Freddie was pretty certain that his legs would never work properly again. Spencer might be tall and gangly but, after half a mile, he was heavy!
He could tell that Carly wanted to talk to him, but the presence of Gibby, who still wanted to know who was playing tonsil hockey at the lock-in, and Brad, who didn't seem to want to leave, made it difficult. That was just fine with Freddie. He wasn't ready to talk to Carly when he hadn't even talked to Sam yet.
Sam. He remembered her running past him out of the school. He'd just watched her leave and not said a word. He could have blamed it on the fact that he was busy trying to keep a nauseated 26 year old man upright, but that would be have been a lie, because even if he hadn't been struggling to keep Spencer from falling down, he still wouldn't have known what to say. Now in his room, by himself, the questions flew fast and furious.
'Do you know your hair always smells like vanilla?'
'Do you know that your lips are the softest things I've ever felt?'
Of course he could think of things now. The moment had passed. There was no pressure. No school full of kids, no awkward silences, no Carly... and no Sam. He guessed it really didn't matter. Even if he'd had the presence of mind to ask these questions then, how did he expect her to respond?
She'd taken off right after the lock in; hadn't walked home with Carly like she normally would or even stopped by to check on Spencer. She had, however, sent Carly a text as they walked home and asked if Spencer was okay. Correction. What she'd actually done was ask Carly for "status on Pukey McPansypants", but they knew what she meant.
It was Sunday – Pam Puckett's bingo day- so he knew Sam would be home alone. He wondered what she was doing; wondered if she, like him, was sitting alone trying to work up the courage to call.
Now he sat in his room, absentmindedly toying with his AV equipment and listening to music. 'Running Away' by A.M. played in the background, as it had been over and over since he got home. He sighed, opened the center drawer to his desk and took out a picture.
He'd taken the picture with his mobile phone two weeks ago in a vintage video store he and Sam had found in downtown Seattle. Sam had actually been the one to notice it as she and Freddie were walking home from a matinee of 'The Thirst'; a new vampire movie. Sam had shrieked when she saw the store, and dragged Freddie inside by the back of his shirt. He hadn't even struggled. In the course of his new friendship with Sam he'd learned that the injuries were greatly lessened when he just went with the flow.
Inside the store there had been a giant Michael Myers cutout and Sam had staged herself beside it; smiling like she and Michael Myers were old friends on their way to a day at the park. He'd raised his phone to snap a picture of her and at the last minute she'd pulled him into the shot, throwing his phone at the acne ridden face of the cashier.
"Hey you… take our picture." she'd demanded. The cashier caught the phone just before it hit his face.
"Dude, you gotta get closer. I can't get you in the shot… Go on and get close, Old Mikey doesn't bite." The cashier laughed at his own joke, his voice slow enough for Freddie to suspect that the smell coming from the back of the store wasn't just incense.
Freddie reached around the back of the cutout to get closer and his hand landed softly on Sam's back. Her tank top had lifted just enough for his fingers to feel bare flesh. He froze. Who would have thought that Sam Puckett would be that soft? His adolescent mind was suddenly flooded with images of bare skin and…. 'Get it together Freddie' he told himself. But a teen boy's hormones are notoriously unresponsive to logical demands. '1… 2… 3… puppies, hobos, icky cousin Amanda' he attempted to distract his brain from what his hands were feeling.
"Quit trying to feel me up dorkwad." Sam had spat, but she hadn't moved his hand. And he hadn't either.
They'd left the store after that, walking together back to Bushwell Plaza. Sam had gone to Carly's and Freddie had waited their customary 10 minutes before going over too. Carly never seemed to suspect how much time he and Sam were spending together; their time together was a world that only existed for them and somehow it didn't seem right to share it with anyone – even Carly.
But now that world was out in the open. No more hiding.
He had to talk to her.
Sam opened her eyes reluctantly.
'Why can't I sleep!' she thought. She loved sleep. In her opinion it ranked right up there with summer vacation and all-you-can eat buffets. Today more than ever she longed for sweet, sweet, unconsciousness; anything to avoid dealing with the recent turn of events. But after tossing and turning for hours one thing was clear… it wasn't going to happen.
She moaned and kicked her legs, pulling her pillow over her head to muffle a scream. She was so confused! And feeling confused made her mad!
'This whole thing is Carly's fault.' she thought.
Carly's influence on Sam over the course of their friendship was obvious to. Before meeting Carly, Sam had been much more interested in giving boys wedgies than kissing them. Slowly but surely, things had changed. And while she'd probably never be as girly as Carly, these days she was a lot more prone to girly tendencies than she had once been. Last night's fiasco was proof.
Okay, maybe she was being unfair. Maybe it wasn't Carly's fault. Sure, being friends with Carly had changed her (she could not only say panties now…she actually even wore them from time to time) but most of the changes were good. And Carly might make fun of Sam's loud, obnoxious, meat loving personality but at the end of the day she loved Sam just like she was…no change required. There weren't many people Sam could say that about.
She could, however, blame Carly for the fact that things had changed between her and Freddie. If Carly had never gone to see her grandpa on that day three months ago then Sam would never had gone to Freddie's house, and she'd be laying in her bed blissfully asleep right now, instead of worrying about the nub. That day was the beginning of it all. She'd never admit that to anyone else, but it was true. Without Carly planted firmly between them they'd found their way into each other lives. Even more amazing than that was the fact that she was actually glad that it had happened. She was sure it had all gone straight down the crapper yesterday when she kissed him, but until then she'd actually been enjoying their new friendship.
Freddie had turned out to be a cool kid, not that she'd ever said that to his face. They'd been hanging out for two… no three months now. Not all the time or anything but more and more often. They had watched every new horror movie that had come out; and even caught special showings of classics at small out of the way theaters. Carly never came with them; they'd never invited her. Carly hated scary movies, but Sam and Freddie were both fanatics; card carrying members of The Society of Blood, Gore and Guts. So they'd gone to the movies together; Sam had even been able to get Freddie to sneak out to few midnight showings with her.
He always bought her snacks; at first - because she demanded it, but later he did it without her even asking. He'd sit with his legs (which, she noticed, were considerably longer this year) stretched in front of him while she sat bundled in her seat, knees drawn to her chin. In the darkness of the theater they were anonymous. They weren't Sam and Freddie who were bound, by an unspoken agreement, to torture each other. They were just a boy and a girl, enjoying a movie together. Above all, they were friends.
She wasn't used to guys doing nice things for her; at least not without being forced. But Freddie would always hold the door to the theater open for her when they entered and when they left. She'd forgotten her jacket when they went to see 'Mutilation' last month, he'd given her his, even though she knew he had to be freezing in only his t-shirt. He even held the popcorn bucket so she didn't get grease all over her pants; not that she would have cared – but it was nice, just the same. Every time he did something like that Sam got an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was never sure how to react. At first she'd made fun of him; asked him if he learned such good manners in a class he took with his mommy. He'd just told her to shut it and offered her the popcorn bucket. Now when he held the door for her she just walked through it quietly – a very un-Sam thing to do – and tried to ignore the squirmy feeling in her stomach.
In the past two weeks it had gotten even worse. On their way home from a matinee of 'The Thirst' she'd lapsed into silence. Freddie kept looking over at her, well down at her actually (when had the dork gotten so tall anyway?), and smiling. Sam had no idea what that smile meant, but every time she saw it she got an overwhelming urge to stop right there in the middle of the sidewalk and stick her tongue firmly down his throat. The desire to do so rushed at her from a million places at once and scared her half to death. It was impossible! She could not feel that way about Freddie. I mean, he was…Freddie! King of the Dorks! Love sick puppy pining after Carly! Lover of all thing Galaxy Wars related! He was not someone she should be feeling this way about. But her body must not have been listening to her brain because it went right on insisting that she put him in a lip lock.
As they walked, their hands had periodically brushed against each other and her fingers would tingle. She was ready to take off running for home and a much needed cold shower when she'd seen the display window for a vintage horror movie store. She'd stopped in her tracks and screamed her excitement, pulling Benson by the collar behind her, into the store. It was amazing! It was filled with old horror movie posters and DVDs as well as old props, masks, costumes and special effects makeup. She and Freddie had stood in the doorway like children approaching the tree on Christmas morning and the strange feelings she'd had just a moment before quieted.
Looking over at Freddie, who was intently inspecting a Leatherface mask, she thought that finding this store must be a sign. It was like the universe was telling her to get her chizz together and quit being such a girl; Freddie was her friend and that all he was meant to be. There, surrounded by the movies they loved, she'd felt better. The pull on her heart had lightened and she and Frederly had gone back to talking and joking.
Near the register she'd noticed a life size cutout of Michael Myers (her all-time favorite serial killer) and she'd moved to pose beside it. Freddie had raised his phone to take a picture of her, cracking up at exactly how natural it looked for her to be standing beside a serial killer like they were friends. She'd grabbed his camera and thrown it to the cashier so that Freddie could pose with her on the other side of the cutout.
Just as she'd shouted at the cashier to 'get it movin'', Freddie had reached around the back of the cutout, and in that completely absurd moment, with she, Freddie and Michael Myers standing there like old friends, she'd felt his fingers on the exposed skin of her back where her tank top had ridden up. His fingers were hot, or maybe it was just her, either way the squirmy feeling had returned – full force.
"Quit trying to feel me up dorkwad" she'd said with a smile, praying that he couldn't feel her trembling. But he hadn't moved his hand. And she didn't want him to.
She was jarred from her thoughts by her vibrating phone. She pulled the pillow from where it was resting over her face and sat up. It was probably Carly. She'd been sending Sam texts since they left Ridgeway yesterday morning. None of them had contained the words 'Freddie" or 'kiss', but the absence of those words only made it more apparent to Sam just how badly Carly wanted to discuss it.
She'd answered with short two or three word answers – she didn't mention the kiss either. After Carly had sent the last text, asking her to come over for a 'Girl's Night', Sam quit responding. She knew that 'Girl's Night' was Carly code for 'Carly providing Sam unlimited snacks in exchange for Sam spilling her guts'. The snacks sounded good-she was really hungry- but the spilling guts thing was not an option.
She reached over to her nightstand to grab her phone. It wasn't Carly.
On reflex she threw the phone into her closet and flung herself back down on the bed. This was not happening.
The vibrations stopped and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Until they started again. And again. And again. Four messages.
This kid was not going to give up.
Sam groaned as she rose from her bed and tried to find her phone in the mess that was her closet. There among shoes, shirts, old homework assignments, and baskets of laundry Sam felt panic begin to rise when she couldn't find her phone. The next text was a welcome sound as she followed the ring and illuminated screen to the far corner of her closet. Inside a mangy old boot she found her phone and carried it back to her bed.
What was he going to say? Some very unpleasant options came to mind.
'What the hell is wrong with you Puckett?'
'Why would you try to stick your tongue in my mouth?'
'Please refrain from any further embarrassing public displays; you're ruining my chances with Carly…'
'This text is to inform you of my desire to resign from the Society of Blood, Guts and Gore. Buy your own popcorn you blond headed demon!'
'Well, Sam,' she thought, 'it's now or never.' She ran her thumb over the screen to bring it to life and there, sure enough, were five unread text messages.
4:00 pm Freddison: We need 2 talk…
4:02 pm Freddison: Can you come over? Can we meet somewhere?
4:06 pm Freddison: Okay Puckett, this is getting annoying. I know u see me texting u!
4:10 pm Freddison: Quit ignoring me! Seriously!
4: 15 pm Freddison: U got 5 minutes to call me or im comin over there….
Her phone buzzed again and a new message popped up.
4:21 pm Freddison: Have it your way. I'll be there in 10
She looked over at her clock. 4:23. Cheese. And. Rice.
'Calm down Sam,' she thought, 'you've still got at least 5 minutes to get out of here.'
She stood up, stretching as she realized that she had her pajamas on. 4:25. No time to change. Oh well, it wasn't like she'd never been out in public in her pajamas before. She threw on a bra, opened the door to her bedroom, and headed for the stairs. She knew it was ridiculous, running from Freddie when she could just hide in the house, continue to ignore his calls and pretend not to hear the doorbell. The doorbell!
Sam froze on the steps as the familiar jangling of her doorbell filled the house. She crept slowly and softly down the stairs. Okay, her options were really limited now, she could either go down the stairs, open the door and face Freddie or she could go back upstairs and put her head under the covers.
She'd decided on the latter when she heard the sound of her front door opening.
Shit! Her mom hadn't locked the door behind her when she left for bingo! Maybe she'd get lucky and it'd just be a robber or one of her mother's sleazy boyfriends looking to "share" her bingo winnings.
"Sam…" She heard Freddie call out into the darkened house.
Sam and her mother lived in the house her grandparents had left them. It wasn't as fancy as Carly's house. She didn't have a doorman or room for a studio but it was cozy, and being here reminded her that at one point she'd had a normal life; complete with a dad and grandparents. She'd lived here for most of her life and could tell, just by the sound of the creaking floorboards, exactly where Freddie was standing. He was in the living room, beside her couch.
The stairs in her house were loud, creaking no matter how light you stepped, so turning around and going back upstairs was not going to work. She was going to have to use the band aid method; just close her eyes, yank the sucker off and try not to scream like mad. She stepped from the shadows of the second floor stairway into the entryway that separated the dining room from the living room.
"How's it hanging Fredward?" she said, giving him a halfhearted smile.
"Hey" he said, gesturing toward her front door "Sorry about that… it was open."
"I thought you weren't coming for ten minutes?" She said. A blush rose in Freddie's cheeks.
"Oh that. Well… I was actually already headed this way when I sent the first text. I knew it was your mom's bingo day. And I knew you were at home…"
"Carly." they said in unison, laughing to try to offset the awkwardness.
"Yeah," he said, "she texted me to ask if I'd seen you so I knew you weren't with her". He looked over to where Sam stood against the door jam.
"And how did you know I wasn't somewhere else… with someone else?" She asked, curious. She knew she was giving him a hard time… she couldn't help it.
"Well," Freddie sighed, "I guess…I didn't really know. I just sort of… hoped. I hoped you'd be here."
"Well, I think we both know why you're here, so…" Sam walked towards the sofa and sat down, "let's get it over with Freddie-O". She sat Indian style on the sofa, facing the TV, avoiding Freddie's gaze as sat down on the edge of the cushion furthest from her.
She didn't know a whole lot about these kinds of things, but she was pretty sure Freddie's body language was telling her that this was not going to be a fun conversation. She began to nervously tap her fingers on knees.
They sat silently for a minute, then five, then ten. The only sounds were Freddie's periodic sighs and the nervous tap, tap, tapping of Sam's fingers on her knees. Neither of them spoke. For his part, Freddie seemed to open his mouth, then think better of the idea and close it, a few times. Each time it looked like he might say something, Sam tensed up, biting the inside of her cheek and suppressing the urge to run out of the room.
Beside her she heard Freddie draw in a big breath, and shift in his seat so that he was facing her.
"Listen Sam, I have some stuff to say. And as much as you're going to want to, I'm asking you to resist the urge to say anything until I'm done." He looked at her seriously, "I mean it Sam! It's going to hard enough to say; I don't need you throwing me off or giving me your two cents..." he looked over to her, "or throwing any punches if you hear something you don't like." He added the last part with a raised eyebrow and Sam had to admit… he really knew her.
"Alright Captain Tech-Head… let's hear it." She braced herself. If he thought she would hit him because of what he was going to say she was fairly certain it was going to be bad. 'At least it will be over soon', she thought, 'and we can go back to normal… I hope.'
Freddie rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. The movement made the muscles in his back tense. If you'd told Sam a year ago that Fredward Benson would grow up to fill out a t-shirt like that, she'd have laughed in your face. But it was true. As he sat fidgeting on the edge of the sofa, the material stretched and hugged against his muscles; the sleeves tight around the biceps that were a very recent edition – and much appreciated on her part.
'Concentrate Sam!', She thought.
Freddie sighed before beginning again.
"Sam. I know we've got this … situation to deal with. I mean what happened yesterday at the lock-in. That was…" He got quiet and shook his head, trying to find the right word. "It was…I don't know…it was…"
"Unexpected?" Sam blurted out, forgetting her agreement to silence.
Freddie shot a warning glance her way.
"Yes…no. Well, yes and no." He sighed, "I mean we've been spending time together but, uh, I didn't exactly expect you to like…kiss me...I just…" He drew another blank.
"Freddie it's cool. We don't have to talk about this. We can just forg…." She didn't have an opportunity to finish her sentence as Freddie jumped up and started pacing in front of the sofa, turning to point a finger at her.
"Sam…I think I told you to shut it!" He said, raising an eyebrow in warning, "Why do you never listen? Why do you always…ugh! See, that's the problem right there! That's exactly what I mean!" He stopped pacing and looked at her as if she should understand. She did not.
"You drive me nuts Samantha Puckett!" Freddie threw his hands in the air, resuming his pacing in front of the sofa. "You've always driven me crazy! You've made a point of it for as long as can remember. It's like our thing. For the last few years I'd actually dream about what life would be like without you in it. And then… then things started changing and … well, now I don't know what to do. I mean I have no idea what to do.
"Fre…" Sam started to speak and was quickly silenced by Freddie who raised his hand as if to tell her to stop right there.
"Sam, I already know what you're going to say. You're going to tell me to quit being a girl about this; that I should just chalk it up as some dumb mistake that didn't mean anything. You're going to say it'll be easier if we just forget it and go back to the way things were. And you're absolutely right; it would be easier, but here's my problem…" He stopped pacing and looked down at her, "I don't think I can forget it. I know that I don't want to forget it Sam. And I don't think you want to either."
Feeling bolder he knelt in front of Sam on the sofa.
"If anyone had told me a year ago… hell, even four months ago that there would ever come a day that I felt this way about you, I think I'd have had them committed. When you showed up at my house three months ago, I just chalked it up to you being bored and me being available. But then we started hanging out and, call me crazy Sam but, the more time I spend with you, the more I can't… I can't get you out of my head! And its nuts really, because you aren't any of the things I told myself I wanted. I mean, you make fun of me and you're always saying something to embarrass me. But the more I get to know you, the more I see these…these other things about you. Like how loyal you are; how you make fun of me but get so mad if anyone else does it. And how funny you are; no matter how bad my day has been, you always find a way to make me laugh, even if it's at myself."
Sam sat listening to Freddie, fighting the urge to get up and run out of the room. Freddie's words were touching a part of that she'd never felt; even with Jonah. It was like a door was opening up inside and all she wanted to do was try to keep it closed. If she let him in, let her guard down, even for a minute she was giving him all the power. The power to hurt her, the power to break her heart. The thought made her blood run cold. But holding back was hard. Holding back from Freddie was starting to feel impossible and for just one moment she wondered if maybe it was time…to let go.
She tilted her head up, risking a look at Freddie.
Freddie's face softened as he continued.
"And you're beautiful. Like really beautiful, and I don't even think you know it. Without make up or girly clothes. Without trying to be anyone but who you are. You're beautiful without even trying."
He leaned close to her, pushing a lock of wild blond hair behind her ear then tracing his finger softly from her temple to her chin. He didn't even recognize himself. He'd never been brave enough to say these things to a girl. Even with Carly it had always been innuendo and flirting, never just laying it all out there. That's what Sam did to him. She made him brave.
Her blue eyes were shiny with tears she was trying not to cry and she hadn't yet said a word, but when she looked up at him from beneath her long lashes he felt his heart shatter and then mend itself in an instant; stronger than it had been the moment before. And as it pounded in his ears he swore it was calling her name.
"I don't want to forget what happened Sam – none of it. I don't want to forget all the years you drove me crazy. I don't want to forget how special our first kiss was. I don't want to forget the last three months when you started to let me see who you really are. I don't want to forget yesterday. And I don't want to forget this moment, right now. You mean something to me Sam, and I want you in my life – as more than just my friend. So please don't ask me to forget Sam, because I don't think it's possible."
He moved to raise her face toward his again. He locked his eyes with hers, searching for any sign that she believed him. He needed her to believe him. But she didn't answer him, and when his words were met with silence he thought- for the first time since he'd begun talking -'maybe she doesn't feel the same way'. The idea sent a current of fear like lightning down his spine.
Then the tears behind her eyes began running down her cheeks, and she didn't have to say anything. There was her answer.
He leaned forward tentatively, watching her face; gauging her reaction. He heard her breathing hitch, but she didn't stop him. He moved one hand to tangle in the soft waves of blond hair at the back of her neck; gently pulling her toward him. And this time when their lips met he knew exactly what to do. Moving with new found confidence, he pulled her close to him as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
She'd kissed guys before. Under bleachers, in basement closets during games. She'd done it just to do it. It hadn't really meant anything. But this…this kiss was supposed to mean something. There were promises in this kiss and if there was one thing that scared Samantha Puckett it was promises, because they were almost always broken. This was such a supremely bad idea, and she had about a million reasons why. It was going to change everything and she didn't know if she was ready for things to change; once they crossed this bridge, they couldn't go back. And what if he wasn't over Carly? He'd loved her, in all her Carly-like perfection, for as long as she'd known him. How could she compete with that? And the most important reason: he was a guy, a member of the male species and for most of her life all they'd ever done was disappoint her. She knew that Freddie believed what he'd said to her. She just didn't know how to make herself believe it too.
She tried to pull away from him, but her stupid body wasn't listening. And so for just one minute she stopped fighting. She tried to forget how many times she'd been disappointed. She tried to forget how many times she'd heard someone say they loved her only to have them walk away. She closed her eyes tight, leaned into Freddie and let herself believe him.
She kissed him back; with everything that she had. Their breathing was heavy as she raised her hands to grip his shoulders, hoping that he could feel all the words she couldn't say.
I've never felt like this before…
I've spent my whole life wondering if I mattered… if I was good enough…
She slid from the couch, pulling herself closer to him
You make me feel like I matter…
You make me want to stop hiding…
Freddie pulled his face away slowly, drawing her into his chest as he rested his chin on the soft blanket of her curls. They stayed that way. Sam, burying her face in his neck. Freddie, rubbing slow, lazy circles on the small of her back.
"Can I talk now." she said softly. He felt her smiling into his chest.
Freddie laughed as she moved back to her seat on the sofa.
"I'm shocked you listened to me on that at all… when have you ever listened to someone when they told you to shut up?" He said, smiling up at her. Sam drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking down at her hands.
"Freddie, what you said…just now. That was…" She stared at her hands, her lips slightly parted but no words coming out. Finally, she looked up at him, "I'm not good at this kind of stuff. This 'lovey- dovey' type of stuff. But ... I want you to know that this…" she pointed her finger back and forth between the two of them, "this matters to me too. I don't want to forget either." She stopped again. 'Why is this so hard?' she thought. He'd just stood in front of her and said some of the nicest things she'd ever heard, and here she sat tongue tied and terrified.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know that on paper you and I don't make much sense – or any sense really. We're like that thing… an oxy… oh what the heck is it called" she snapped her fingers trying to remember.
"An oxymoron" Freddie smiled.
"Exactly! That's exactly it. We're like two things that are totally opposite but somehow, together, they make sense. Like jumbo shrimp!" She quipped.
"Opposites attract" Freddie said.
"Exactly," Sam said, glad that he seemed to understand what she was saying, "But what if we stop making sense? What if we do this, and it ends bad and it ruins everything? What if you wake up one day and realize that … that I'm not what you really want?" She sighed,
She was scared. She'd never say it out loud, but he could tell. This entire situation was unfamiliar territory for her and he knew that. But he also knew how to fix it.
Freddie began looking around the room, finally moving over to dig through the movies in her TV stand.
"Hello? Did you hear what I said? I'm baring freakin' my soul here!" she said, a little irritated that while his confession had her crying like an infant, hers hadn't had quite the same effect.
"This will do just fine," Freddie said, coming back to sit in front of Sam, his hand holding something behind his back.
"What's the deal Benson?" Sam asked, trying to peek around his back.
Freddie withdrew a worn DVD case – 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre'.
"It's not the original," he smiled, "but it'll do. Now please raise your right hand." He held the case out in front of her solemnly.
"This is an important day," he started, "A day that will live on in infancy"
"The word is infamy, dorkus" Sam said, trying in vain to hold in her laughter.
"Infancy, Infamy, whatever Puckett! Just shut it before I change my mind!"
Sam sat up straight, placing her right hand on the worn DVD case, struggling to keep a straight face.
"Today, Princess Puckett, you are being officially inducted into the Puckett-Benson Society of Oxymoronic Love. Membership in this exclusive club… by rule we are limited to two members," he laughed, "has only one requirement; that you promise... to stay just the way you are." He looked at her with a grin.
She took her hand from the case, looking at Freddie with questioning eyes and a hint of a smirk on her lips.
"You're sure about this" she asked.
"Absolutely" Freddie replied. Right now he couldn't think of anything she could say that would change his mind. Sam wasn't so sure…
"I'll never be a daffodil" she said.
"I'm allergic to flowers"
"I'm not going to be all mushy in public"
"Mushy in private works fine for me"
"I still think Galaxy Wars is lame"
"Duly noted"
"Your mom is going to hate it"
"Probably"
"If you break my heart, I'll break your face"
"I wouldn't expect anything less"
"Well then Benson," she said placing her hand back onto the DVD case, "I do so swear"
He pulled her to her feet and with one arm around her tiny waist he drew her to him. Leaning down he whispered in her ear before brushing his lips with hers.
"Welcome to the club."
A/N: Awww…this is still one of my all-time favorite chapters. Drama is good but we all need some fluff in our lives from time to time.
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