iCarly rehearsals were the next day. Carly and Sam had made a target board and were planning to slingshot tomatoes at it from afar – part of that week's episode – and all they had to do was test to make sure everything ran smoothly. As Sam rolled the target board into position, she glanced every now and then at Anders, smiling whenever they met eyes. After much discussion, Sam had finally convinced Carly to allow Anders to watch their rehearsal for the day.

"Fine," Carly had given up after much Sam-persuading, "just as long as he sits there quietly and doesn't bother us."

Sam promised Anders would behave. She would be surprised if he did otherwise, for after hanging out with him for the afternoon she learned quickly that he was mostly a quiet boy who only talked when something fully interested him. Keeping up a conversation with Anders had been surprisingly difficult – not because he was overly proud, but because he and Sam didn't have much in common apart from their adoration for food.

Carly checked the time on her cell phone, tapping her foot impatiently as she began to type out a text. "I can't believe he's late; Freddie's never late!" she cried for the umpteenth time. "Ugh, I wish he would just pick up his phone already." Turning to Anders, she apologized, "Sorry, we're not usually this disorganized."

"Don't worry," he smiled timidly, "I'm sure everything will sort itself out. I've seen your show before."

Sam approached him eagerly, flopping down in the beanbag next to his. "Do you have a favorite episode?"

He shrugged, "Too many to be sure." After a moment, he felt he needed to ask, "So do either of you want to go into film or television after high school?"

"Oh, who really thinks that far into the future, right?" Sam let out a laugh. No one joined in.

Carly, after letting out a groan at the time once again, added unconsciously, "Probably. What I want to do is travel first; get a chance to see the world where tacky tourists are nowhere to be found."

"No way," Anders exclaimed, "I hate tourists too. I've always wanted to go to Burma, but I don't think that's possible as of now –"

"Because of their government," Carly finished his sentence with a somewhat shocked expression on her face, "it's too unstable because it's all military control. I never knew anyone else who wanted to go to Burma."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Please, why bother to travel all that way? Now, it may not be Burmese food, but there's this great Thai restaurant not too far from here. Do you remember what it's called Carl? Pow… Pow Yum something. Anyways, if you want some good Pad Thai Anders, go there."

There was a moment before Carly added, "They do make awfully good Pad Thai."

Sam rolled her eyes again, announcing that she was going to find Freddie. As Sam left Carly's room, she began to pick up speed unconsciously, until she was jumping down the stairs with her long, blonde hair flailing behind her. Sam burst into the hall of the apartment building, jumping up into the air and kicking on Freddie's door with her food. When he did not immediately replied, she simply pulled a bobby pin out of her shorts and fiddled with the lock. It was only a moment before it clicked open.

The inside of Freddie's apartment was quiet at first. Everything was so still and perfect that Sam felt like she had walked into a museum of the freakishly clean American families, and wondered if she had been wrong to think Freddie was at home. Almost letting out a laugh at her doubt, Sam then thought, As if Freddie would have anywhere else to be.

Just then, she heard the sound of a door close, and followed the noise to Freddie's bedroom door. With a sinister smirk, Sam placed a hand on the doorknob, hesitating for only a second before swinging the door open and shouting, "HI FREDDIE!"

In the end, both of them let out a cry of shock: Freddie because he had not been expecting Sam's grand entrance; and Sam because she had not been expecting Freddie to be standing in only his boxers. His hair was wet and a towel had been tossed lazily on the ground, indicating he had just come out of the shower. They stared at each other, Freddie's face turning crimson to the ears and Sam's eyes lingering over his scrawny body.

"Hi Freddie," Sam repeated herself, only this time her voice weak sounding. A grin began to spread across her mouth as smoothly as butter on toast, and she finally dared herself to meet Freddie's eye. He was anything but pleased to see her.

"Turn around," he glowered, and Sam did so without a sound. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to get you," Sam sighed. "You're late for iCarly rehearsals and Carly was only about to have a heart attack. I thought I was doing the right thing by coming to get you."

"Does breaking into my house count as the right thing?"

"Well it's not like I haven't done it before," Sam pointed out, although she immediately wished she hadn't. A chill wrapped around her arms and legs as the two of them became very quiet. Sam forced herself to think of anything but her past experiences with Freddie, but for some reason the sound of Freddie getting dressed made it near impossible to do. "Hey, thanks for ditching me at Dawn's the other night," Sam decided to say. "Carly got drunk, and I mean legitimately drunk."

Freddie arched his eyebrows. "You serious?"

"Yup, and while you were running off in the dark I had to take the babbling girl home myself."

"Well you are the one who pushed me around the garden shed," Freddie retorted, the irritation in his voice bolder than Sam had expected. She chose to drop the topic, and as she lifted her eyes up at the ceiling above her, she realized it had become very quiet. It was just as quiet as when she had first arrived. Freddie had finished changing.

Sam turned around, almost bumping into Freddie he was so unexpectedly close to her. He stood there, waiting for her to move out of the doorway, but Sam stood still. A similar sensation washed over her at the thought of how close Freddie was too her, and no matter how much she disliked it, Sam couldn't stop a smirk from rising on her face at the thought of how easy it would be to just lean in and kiss him. She was almost certain Freddie was thinking the same thing when he shoved past her, declaring, "I'm not doing this."

Slowly walking after him, Sam watched as Freddie grabbed his camera bag off of the kitchen counter. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, stopping in her tracks and placing clenched fist into her hips. She noticed her fingers begin to feel clammy against her palms and quickly decided to just drop her arms back down to her sides.

Freddie didn't respond. Just as he was about to open the door to cross the hall, he stopped and turned around to face Sam. "You know what," he told her, "I'm sorry. Not for you, but Carly getting sick at Dawn's. I don't think she deserves that, do you?"

Sam hunched her shoulders and half raised her arms in bemused disbelief. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she shouted at him. She wished she could have snapped something horrid and mean back at Freddie, but her lips were squeezed tightly together. Fury burning a hole in the centre of her chest, Sam stormed after Freddie, so livid that she had forgotten to tell Freddie about iCarly's special guest Anders, which was, after all, the only reason she had come to get him.