Freddie's POV
A thump was heard from the pit of the trash bin. Another pancake had met its demise on the dirty floor of the kitchen. I'm a tad OCD when it comes to food touching the floor. My mom (who's a lot OCD about all things untidy) must've influenced me somehow. The whole flapjack dropping problem was caused by five words that had come from a petite blonde's mouth.
I gave up on trying to pry about what her second nightmare was and attempted to fall asleep. Usually it was easy for me to sleep once my eyes were closed but Sam's discomfort nagged me. This made it harder for me to go back to sleep, so when Sam's sentence was said I heard it.
"I think I love you." Such words as those paralyzed my body with terror and astonishment. It was surreal to think she was reciprocating my hormonal change. Could it be true that Sam and I were a possible couple? The thought was strange but true. Maybe. It was only a half-truth because I didn't know if I loved her back.
I tried to create another clean hotcake but my shaking arms flipped it to the floor, so it was forced to the cemetery of splattered pancakes. I should've made bacon, I thought, Easier and it'd make Sam happier. Just thinking her name made me freeze in place. Oh, man, I need to end this now. I wasn't myself with this inner turmoil rumbling inside of me. I needed to decide how I felt about Sam and confront her before I popped from the stress.
Suddenly I felt something against the back of my head. Immediate pain came into my head and I fell to the ground. My hands went to where the pain originated, and a thick liquid came onto my fingers. I've been shot… I thought with horror. I moved a hand to my face to find thick, blue blood dripping from my—wait a minute…blue?
"Sucka!" Sam yelled. Her voice was proud and laughs followed. Soon the demonic angel was standing over me, cackling. My chest tightened at the sight of her; she was striking before me, with her flowing blonde hair and oceanic eyes…ugh, I may be sick.
"V-Very funny, Samantha." I grumbled, not of annoyance, but of nervousness—her presence made me stutter. She flashed that signature smirk and lifted the futuristic-looking paintball gun to her mouth.
"Say that one more time and you die a painful, paint-covered death." she fake-threatened. I smirked back with a sly raise of the eyebrow; I was feeling dangerous right then with the adrenaline that coursed in my veins.
"Alright, Samantha." I said. She glowered at me, ready for murder. Her lips went on the nozzle and she blew. Out shot a red paintball that spattered against my chest. I clutched where it had gotten me in fake agony.
"Oh…I see the light…" I moaned, "Tell my mom…I love her—"
"Cut the chiz, Benson," Sam said, kicking my shin, "you're a terrible actor. Now take this"—she grabbed something from her belt and tossed it at me—"and fight like a man." My hands went to the silver gun on my stomach. Sam wanted me to fight her in a paintball war. With the newfound, un-Freddie danger feeling, this was going to be a piece of cake.
"If that's what you want, milady." I said and, in a quick flash, I shot a purple paintball at her. She roared animally; it was on. I sprung from my position and ran past her onto the living room couch. She followed, the gun plastered to her face. I lifted mine to my own but she hit me again so hard I fell off the couch. With catlike reflexes I hopped up, shot her once, and headed up to the iCarly studio.
"You'll never win, boy!" she shouted, her feet stomping behind me. I merely laughed to myself while pushing open the studio door. I knew she was close on my tail so I ran to the nearest hiding spot: behind the wall the elevator was located in. I tried to calm my breathing as I awaited Sam. Just a few seconds…any minute now…right about now…No sound came, no shouts, no nothing. This unnerved me—what happened to her? Slowly, I moved my head to peer from behind the wall. She wasn't there. I got out from my hiding spot and ran over to the door. I couldn't see her out there. She was right behind me, I thought. Opening the door, I called her name: "Sam?" No reply. I said it again. Still no answer. I walked out into the small hallway and looked around: nowhere.
"What the he—" A scream pierced the quiet and a weight crashed onto me. Letting out my own shriek, I spun around, trying to fling this thing off my back. A warrior cry came from on top of me and I knew what it was: Sam. She'd been waiting to pounce on me, the lousy—
The weight was lifted from my body but I couldn't relax because she pinned me to the wall. I struggled to free myself from her grasp but to no avail. She spun me around and held my wrists above my head and against the wall. She was so close to me, a devious I-beat-you smile on her face. This was the girl I thought I was in love with? Hoo boy.
"I always keep my promises." she said, "Now, any last words?" We were so near, practically touching. Her hot breath tickled my face and gave me chills. One move from me, and the two of us would be close enough to kiss. That tempted me more than anything ever had.
"Yes." I said, smiling at my joke speech, "I never knew my wife would murder me. I mean, I tried to earn enough money to support us and being a technician for a famous television program I believed could help us immensely. But I suppose even the deepest love could be overcome by the silliest hatred. Just remember that I gave you the best twenty-four hours of my life. And I…I…" My voice disappeared into the air as we gazed at each other avidly. I took a risk and edged closer to her. She didn't pull back or say a word, so I moved closer still. Few more inches and I'll be right there with her…
"Anybody home?" yelled a girl's voice, accompanied by a slam. Sam and I moved away from each other in awkwardness and I could feel a blush on my neck. I almost kissed Sam right there in that very hallway…That so did not help my mental (not to mention emotional) chaos.
We hurried downstairs to see Spencer and Carly—with a video camera. The second she saw us she shoved the camera in our faces, an excited grin on hers.
"Sorry, I was just thinking that I needed to get you all on tape!" she said, moving only a little bit away, "I got the dating, the proposal, and the wedding. I totally forgot about the living together!" She grabbed Sam's hand and dragged her off, rambling questions like "How's it been?" and "What'd you do?" I snuck away before she could grab my hand too, and saw Spencer in the kitchen, fixing himself some orange juice. Perhaps a man-to-man talk is what I needed right then. I'd have to spill my guts to a twenty-something man with the mind of a seven-year-old. It didn't seem very tempting. But it was Spence so I could probably trust him.
"Hey, Spencer." I greeted, leaning against the counter. He smiled at me before taking a sip of his juice. "Can I…ask you something?" He nodded, looking suddenly interested and worried.
"Sure." he said, "What up, Freddo?" I took a deep breath before continuing. Time to admit my feelings—no turning back now.
"You see…" I whispered, as he started drinking his juice again, "I think…I might be in love with Sam." I got sprayed with orange juice after finishing. Spencer had juice dripping from his chin from when he spit it out over my face. As I wiped the liquid off me, he set the glass down while shaking.
"A-Are you serious?" he asked. I nodded. His eyes were huge and he started shaking so bad he had to sit down. I too sat, and watched him as he rubbed his temple.
"You okay, dude?" I asked. He waved me away and I shut up. Turning his face to mine, he still resembled a deer in headlights.
"You're in love with Sam Puckett?" he said, not waiting for an answer, "Wow. That's unexpected."
"I know, I know." I said, "It's just with all the fake love junk, I'm starting to feel like I really do like her. And she might love me too. Last night she thought I was asleep and told me she thinks she loves me. But that means she's not sure. And neither am I. What am I gonna do?" He held a finger to his lips, making me realize I had raised my voice. I quieted down and checked to see if the girls heard; they hadn't.
"You have to find out if it's love or infatuation." he explained, "To do that, I guess you could try to be lovey-dovey. Fix her a candlelit dinner, put your arm around her during a movie, compliment her, or even kiss her on the cheek. If it feels wrong, you're not in love. If it feels right, you are in love, buddy." I grinned and thanked him.
"I hope you're right." I said.
"When I'm I not?" he said, laughing as he lifted the glass up to his mouth, "I'm a genius." He poured the juice into his mouth but it fell over his shirt. He moaned like a child; I just chuckled and left the room. Sam was on the couch sulking and Carly was walking to the computer. I stood over Sam, taking her in. She was as breathtaking as she was a moment ago, even with the pout on her face. I remembered Spencer had told me compliments were one of the ways to tell if I loved her.
"You look very pretty today, Sam." I said. She looked at me in shock. My stomach clenched with her penetrating gaze; was saying that a mistake? She didn't say anything insulting, though.
"Thanks." she said instead, "Your…shirt's cool." I smiled as a fluttering came in my stomach. She complimented me back. Did that mean anything? Oh, my gosh, love is so complicated. But so wonderful too. I just wasn't sure if it was love or infatuation, like Spencer said. I guess I'd have to give Sam a magnificent time to discover how I truly felt.
Operation Woo the Demonic Angel was now in session.