"More lemonade, Sam?"

"Yes, please."

If you walked by my house last Wednesday, you would have seen my mom and I, in our bikinis laid out across my driveway. you would have seen both of us wearing sunglasses and drinking tall glasses of cool, refreshing lemonade. Then you would've been hit in the head with a water balloon.

This may seen strange to you, but to my mom and I, it is tradition. In the middle of winter if we get an especially warm day, we take advantage of the warm weather. By sunbathing and throwing balloons at people who happen to walk by.

I was in a relaxed state. You know, the place right in between consciousness and sleep. I breathed slowly and just watched the clouds in the blue sky.

"Sam?" asked my mom suddenly.

"Yeah?!" I said, awaking.

"Is it Saturday? Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

"Yeah, mom. It's just that… It's time to pick electives for school."

Mom turned to me. "So?"

"I could care less."

"Oh Sam. Don't you care about anything?"

I smiled. "No."

"Good!'

That's our family motto. Don't care about anything. Hey, it works.

We sunk back down onto our fluffy beach towels for a minute until my mom said: "Hey, who's that?"

I sat up and positioned my sunglasses on top of my head so I could see better. Some woman wearing the ugliest brown sweater I had ever seen in my life was approaching. I shrugged and said, "Let's get her!" I grabbed the biggest water balloon in the bucket between my mom and I. The lady was coming extremely close. I hurriedly threw the balloon, but unfortunately I aimed low. It burst right on the lady's stomach, and she shrieked. It seemed to happen in slow motion.

The woman, who I know recognized as Ms. Moon, an annoying teacher's assistant seemed too shocked to even speak and just walked toward us. I couldn't help but notice her sweater now resembled something like wet dog.

"Sorry." said my mother. "We thought you were a hobo. There's actually a lot of them in this neighborhood."

"Sam!!" Ms. Moon yelled. "Get dressed! "

"Alright." I sighed.

After my lonely bus ride to school, (my mom refused to drive me. She said: "I pay my taxes! The bus can take her there.") I found out that there were only three electives were left. Interpretive Dance, music of Billy Rae and Yoga.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Actually, yoga's pretty fun." said a voice. That voice I would recognize anywhere. The voice that had recently deepened. The voice of Freddie.

"Hey, I didn't even notice you were here." I told him.

"Well Mrs. Briggs sure noticed that you weren't here."

I laughed. "Yeah, so, yoga's a good elective?"

"Yeah." said Freddie. "I'm taking it."

"Hmm. I'll sign up."

--

Did you know my favorite day of the week is Thursday? There's no iCarly that day, because Wednesday is rehersal, and Friday is the actual show. So usually we all just hang out, unless something else comes up.

So last Thursday , there I was, boiling water. Why? Okay, here's why: Spencer had a cold. Carly is ridiculously bad at cooking. Like seriously, she can't boil an egg. She did learn how to make that gross food for her annoying relatives, (I forgot their names) but otherwise, the girl is hopeless. And who wants to eat gross food anyway? With Spencer blowing his nose every four minutes, he really was not in the mood for cooking or eating, so he was lying down in his room with a rather large box of tissues. I promised him to make spaghetti for Carls.

I peered down into the steam. The noodles seemed done enough, but there is only one way to tell for sure. I grabbed a noodle with my spoon and tried cooling it down before grabbing it.

Then in comes Freddie. He walked into the kitchen and just observed me in my cooking process.

"Why are you flinging noodles at the wall?" he finally asked.

" Because, Fredward, flinging noodles at the wall is the best way to tell if the pasta is done. If it sticks, it's done. Judging by those noodles on the wall, I'd say it's done."

"Wow, I've never heard of that before."

"Are you doubting my cooking skills?"

He laughed.

"Here, help my drain these noodles. The pan's a little heavy."

He just stared at me.

"What, are you too weak to help a girl out?"

"Fine."

We each took one side of the pan and emptied it's content into the strainer, the steam coming all around us. I sweated a little.

"Phew." I said once we were done.

"Hey Carls!" I yelled up the stairs. " Dinner's done!"

All I could hear from upstairs was coughs. Finally she yelled back: " Sam, I think I caught Spencer's cold. Go ahead and eat without me."

I turned to Freddie. Isn't it funny how we always end up alone together?

--

Freddie and I sat across from each other, laughing.

"And the whole time she didn't notice?" I laughed harder, by now almost hysterical.

"Yeah."

I suddenly looked down at my plate to realize: I had barely touched my food! Too make up for lost time, I took a huge forkful and stuffed it in my mouth, trying to slurp in all the noodles.

Then, too my surprise, Freddie did the same. We both stared at each other, our mouths full of noodles and our face full of sauce. Finally we both managed to consume the noodles, and eventually we got most of the sauce off our face.

"You still have some…" he said.

"Where? " I asked, wiping all over my face. "Is it gone?"

"No." He came up close to me and lightly brushed my right cheek with the back of his hand. "Right there."

"Oh" I said, trying to ignore the tingles all over my body. I wiped off the stain.

"Well…" said Freddie. "I better go know. My mom will worry."

"Of course." I said. I walked him to the door.

"Bye." he said, and he looked at me straight in the eye. I held his gaze for a few seconds longer then looked away.

"Bye."

A/N: Sorry it's slightly shorter than normal, guys. I just typed it up and I liked it so I decided to post it. If you have any ideas to make the chapter better, I am open to them.

P.S. Did you catch that "steamy" moment?