The rest of the day was a disaster, and as far as Carly was concerned, a waste of her time.

Freddie had stormed into rehearsals with Sam not far behind, which was, of course, when it all began. Sam's shameless flirting with Anders made Carly embarrassed for the poor guy who clearly had no idea to respond. The flipping of Sam's hair, batting of the eyelashes, and a laugh that was so girly it practically sparkled as it left her mouth, was so unlike Sam that Carly had to twist the slingshot in her hands to stop herself from exploding in a fury. What also soon became obvious were Freddie and his constant picking on Sam. When she did stop flirting to practice her lines, there was nothing negative that he wouldn't say until Sam started shouting at him.

The only tomato that ever actually got tested in the slingshot was the one Sam had fired at Freddie. Her dead-on aim hit right on the pear that logoed the back of his laptop, and within a second they both erupted into an argument. In the end, Carly grabbed onto one each of their arms, dragging Sam and Freddie behind her to the elevator. They hardly even noticed as she stuck inside and pushed the button for them to return to the main floor. The doors slid shut and as the elevator travelled downwards, the shouting voices of Sam and Freddie slowly faded.

Exhaling slowly, Carly leaned forwards and lightly began hitting her head on the elevator doors. It was only when Anders' voice reminded her of his presence that she turned around. "What?" she asked him, having missed his question.

"Do they always behave like that?" Anders had risen to his feet, his brown eyes shifting uncomfortably.

"They usually pick on each other," she answered, "but never like that. Sam and Freddie are, well, they're pretty complicated right now." Anders nodded, although Carly suspected he had no idea what she meant. "I'm sorry you had to sit through all of this."

"It's fine. I mean when Sam invited me I guess I just thought things would be different."

"They usually are. Today just sucked, big time." Feeling her throat tighten in frustration, Carly inhaled deeply and tilted her head up to the ceiling, swallowing a rising lump back into the pit of her stomach.

Anders cleared his throat, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes. "Well, this may not improve your day," he told her slowly, "but it could guarantee that tomorrow is better. My friend is having a party tomorrow night and you can come if you want."

"Hey, that would be great! I'm coming for sure."

Anders and Carly both cringed as they turned to the door slowly. They hadn't notice Sam slip into the room. "Where's Freddie?" Carly asked her through a sigh.

"Fredweird? He left, thank God. He's usually not such a jerk," she told Anders, "but he's still a nerd most of the time."

With a single nod, Anders turned back to Carly with arched eyebrows. "I think I should go," he told them. "I'm sure Fattianna could use help drying everything that got soaked when the water pipe broke. So give me a call if you guys want to come tomorrow."
"Oh, we'll be there, right Carl?" Sam grinned widely as she linked her arm with his. "Let me walk you to the door. We'll be back in second Carly."

"Actually Sam," Carly didn't try to hide the exhaustion from her voice, "I think you should go to. I've got some… some stuff to do before we film iCarly later this week."

Clearly surprised – or was she offended? – Sam slowly led Anders out of the room. He glanced back at Carly, and with an apologetic smile, Carly said goodbye, telling Anders she'd see him tomorrow. Carly felt only a little guilty about leaving him with the more-than-usual neurotic Sam Puckett, but there was no way she could stand another second of her best friend. Besides, Carly did have some things to think through.

Crashing on her beanbag, Carly lay there deep in thought. After a moment, she pulled out her phone and called Dawn. The only rang only once before the eager girl answered, but Carly didn't let her say a thing for fear of not getting a word in herself. Clutching her phone tightly, Carly asked almost guiltily, "Do you want to go to a party tomorrow night?"

Freddie loved Sam – that, or he hated her. He lay on his bed, eyes staring through the ceiling as he tried to decipher what was going on. Perhaps he just loved hating her, or did he hate loving her? Was that even possible to admit either of those without sounding like some pathetic boy band? There were synonyms for hating someone: despise, loath, abhorrence, odium! The list could go on forever, but nothing sounded as satisfying or serious or raw as the simple word hate. It was the same case for its antonym, love.

Unable to decide, Freddie flipped onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow. He had to choose something; he had to come to a verdict. Pushing his face further into the pillow, Freddie decided… he decided to… he settled on remembering a memory that came to mind.

"Have you come to apologize?" Freddie remembered asking Sam when he turned around to see that she had appeared in his room. Sam had somehow humiliated Freddie at school earlier that day, but as he thought about the memory now he realized he couldn't even remember what had happened.

Sam just smirked. "Never do," she had reminded him of the obvious truth.

There was a moment as Freddie watched Sam with narrowed eyes, still irritated with her. Sam avoided his stare, her lips curled over her teeth, but more like she was deep in thought rather than simply not being able to face him. She had let out a short, loud sigh as if she had come to a decision, and as Sam glanced back up at Freddie, her hands fiddled with something on her back. There was a tiny click sound, and after some more fiddling, Sam's bra had fallen out from under her t-shirt and onto the floor.

Freddie had swallowed his shock. Until that day, he and Sam had only ever kissed during their times of 'experimentation'. Even then, they had only just started getting comfortable enough to grip each other tightly as they did so. Freddie remembered staring at Sam's bra in confusion. Was this some way of her apologizing for her earlier actions? He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Do you want to see?" Sam asked him, slight nervousness raising her voice and yet, there was still a glint in her eye that expressed her excitement and anxiety and thrill. Sam gripped the hem of her shirt. She was so willing. "Freddie?" Sam said his name when it took him too long to respond, smiling her closed mouth smile at his hesitation.

He swallowed again. "I don't need to," Freddie had responded hoarsely, and Sam laughed.

"God, I had no idea you were such a pervert!"

"That's not what I meant," his words stumbled and fell quickly from his mouth in embarrassment. "I mean that I don't need to see anything, yet, because I'm fine with you, just you, right here as you are. Like this. With me. Just you." He had then repeated, and he remembered reading Sam's face. It was still, frozen with amusement, and if she had taken anything he had said seriously she didn't express it.

Their afternoon that day had continued as usual, only with Freddie's hands lingering on Sam's back until they found themselves sliding underneath the thin fabric of her shirt. He didn't see anything that time, just as he said he didn't need to. The memory then faded, ended, and Freddie was back on his bed, face still buried into his pillow. He began to wonder if Sam had noticed anything that day after she left, if she had begun to see something else or if she started to take Freddie a little more seriously.

Freddie's cell phone beeped twice on his side table, and he took his time before he responded. Carly had sent him a text with an address. It was the address of some friend of Anders, who had apparently invited them to a party. Feeling numb after a sudden reminder of the day's events, Freddie dropped his phone.

Sam never took anything seriously.