I dubbed our game "Assassin Part Deux: The Epic Rematch."
And I was whooping butt, just like the last time.
Carly was out the first day, thanks to Spencer, who got her right after we had wrapped the latest iCarly. I got Gibby in the back of the head at school during English (the resulting detention was well worth it). Freddie was my latest fatality, and it was awesome.
I hid behind the kitchen counter in the Shay's apartment, knowing he would eventually visit. I barely had to wait ten minutes before the nub strolled through the door and I launched a bullet of paint right to the dome. BAM! A splatter of paint the size and color of a small tangerine across the forehead marked my opponent as D.O.A.
Mama plays to win.
"OOOOWWW," he moaned. I know it had to hurt. I mean, I wouldn't know personally, since I rocked during the last game, too, but I could imagine.
"Oh, quit blubbering, you big baby," I said dismissively. Freddie let out some sort of strangled growl and marched his way up the stairs. I waited a moment or two before I quietly tailed him. I knew Carly was upstairs in the studio and I'm sure she heard him yell. I skulk around the corner and I hear Freddie mumble something indistinct as he disappears into the upstairs bathroom with Carly on his heels. The door remains open only by a little crack, so I sneak a little closer until I'm able to peer inside through it. I can see their reflections on the mirror to the left side, Freddie is sitting on the closed toilet lid and Carly is dampening a wash cloth and approaching the paint splatter on Freddie's head.
"Sam's work, I'm guessing" she says with amusement.
"Does she always have to go for the forehead?" Freddie cries.
Yes. Yes, I do.
I watch Carly giggle as she begins wiping the paint off of his head. "Just hold still, sweetie," she instructs softly. He places a hand on her hip and a small smirk appears on that stupid face of his.
These two think they're so damn slick.
I don't know when they started dating, but my guess would be about a week and a half ago. That's when they started acting weird: the whispering, the flustered looks, sneaking around corners to do God knows what. Whatever the case, they decided not to tell me about them just yet, which should piss me off, but I honestly can't blame them. I do pick on Freddie a lot and I haven't been the most supportive friend to Carls whenever she wanted to talk about her feelings towards him.
The truth is that I was against the idea at first. I liked the dynamic the three of us had and I didn't want that to change. Mainly, I didn't want to be left behind. I can, however, see how happy they make each other, and I truly want that for the both of them.
Yes, I even want happiness for Freddie. Despite the torture I gladly deliver to him on a daily basis, he's still one of my best friends. I want him to be happy and I'm perfectly willing to set aside my own insecurities in our group's friendship to allow for that, just like I would for Carly.
It would probably help if I told them that, but it's hard, you know?
Carly carefully wipes the paint off of Freddie's face, then returns to the faucet to rinse what she can out of the cloth. "Maybe you should just accept that you're no good at this game, Freddie."
Freddie shrugs. "Well, we both know that I'm a lover, not a fighter," he says with a raised eyebrow as he pulls Carly closer to where he's sitting. She leans down with that gross look in her eyes, which I take as my cue to haul ass. I'm supportive, sure, but my stomach can only handle so much.
I'm certain they'll tell me about their relationship one day, and when that day comes I'll be super supportive…right after I make fun of them for about an hour.
Baby steps, my friends, baby steps.
Well, I better go hunt down Spencer and put him out of his misery. Or I may just let him catch me. Who knows? Maybe I'll have my own Shay nursing me back to health by the end of the evening…