A/N - Please read: Okay, some of you keep asking about Freddie smelling about cinnamon. I've never heard anyone else say that the boy smells like cinnamon. My old dog, Sherman, who passed away three years ago smelled like cinnamon, like all the time. I've always found that smell comforting so when I write stories I use that smell because I like it.
Disclaimer: Ownage of iCarly isn't mine. (I also don't own 'ownage')
"—Was the one in the closet after the dance. That's why she got home late." Freddie told Carly in a rush. I just stood to the side, clenching and unclenching my fist. I really have to stop underestimating that boy.
Carly seemed to take a minute to process his words before turning to look at me. Her face was one of shock, confusion and bit of anger. I was bracing myself for the maelstrom that was about to hit. And I just stood there, feeling—and probably looking—stricken. That boy just wrote his death sentence. Maybe he had a suicide wish. I was about to fulfill it for him.
I didn't wait to hear Carly's rejection. I just launched at the Benson boy. He yelped as he crashed into floor face-first. I grabbed a handful of his hair and rammed his head into the ground again and again. He struggled against me, finally flipping over to face me. I growled and smacked him across the face, ignoring the fact I was now straddling him.
Then Carly was there, pulling me gently but successfully off the jerk.
He laid on the carpet, holding his bleeding nose and glaring at me. I spit at him and Carly shouted at me. In my rage, her words were lost on me. She might as well have been silent because her lips were moving but my brain was moving like molasses—too slow to process.
"SAM!" I finally heard her yell my name. My eyes focused on her standing right in front of me, gripping my arms and shaking me. "Are you there?"
I blinked a few times, swallowed and nodded. Carly satisfied, let me go. She wasn't exactly restraining me though. I mean, she was Carly Shay, and I was Sam Puckett. She only coaxed me away from the loser I was being up.
Then I noticed that Benson was gone. "Where'd he go?" I snapped. All that suggested that he was even there at all was a few droplets of blood. The couch was also knocked to the side a bit from where I kicked it when I jumped him. I frowned at the small mess. I would have preferred doing more damage to him, and if need be, the Shay's apartment.
Carly hushed me and sat me down on the couch as if I were a little kid. She even took my hand gently. "He ran out after you attacked him. Are you okay, Sam?" She asked, reminding me of my mother—if my mother cared about me at all.
"I think so." I said. Why was she asking if I were the okay one? Benson was the one who just had his face smashed into the ground a few times. "Why do you care?" I asked, making sure my tone was free of all accusation. I managed a rather curious tone.
"Why do I care? Sam, did you hit your head too?" She laughed, and I felt the knot in my stomach ease. Then she looked as if she realized something. "You thought I would react negatively to what Freddie said didn't you?"
I couldn't muster words through my shock. I realized now that if I hadn't hit the boy, I could have played off the confession as just a joke from the little weirdo. I had panicked, and now I felt sick to my stomach. God...I was such an idiot. I never wanted to go back in time so badly before. But what would I change?
"Sam…Sam…this doesn't change anything." She told me softly. Was this my Carly, my best friend who freaked out on a regular basis for less? She should be reprimanding me right now or showering until her skin peeled off. First Fredloser, and now Carly… was I in some remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers? The Carly said, "At first I was freaking out because how could you not tell me it was you? But then I realized that you were just afraid."
"Yeah, a little." I offered with a weak smile. Carly returned it but stronger. She let go of my hand, putting her hand on my shoulder instead. The intimacy was like of two sisters, of two close friends and it was comforting.
After a few moments of awkward silence Carly said, "So…?"
"So… what?" I grumbled, trying hard not to sound irritated. I failed.
"Who was it with?" She asked, practically bursting at the seams. Then her face fell and became serious. "It wasn't Pete, was it?"
"Ew. No." I told her, sticking my tongue out and crinkling my nose in disgust. "I ditched his sorry ass."
"Sam! Language!" Carly shrieked, covering her ears in recoiled horror.
"To be honest, Carls, I don't know who it was." I told her softly, barely above a whisper but she heard me, and her eyes went wide. Her mouth became a perfect little 'o' of surprise.
"How do you not know?" She asked, confusion and suspicion in her voice. Did she suspect I was lying? Because if that was the next question, I would hit her. I was stressed enough without her calling me a liar for telling her the truth.
"He was wearing a mask." I told her, shrugging as if it weren't a big deal. And it wasn't. She was just making it one. I wanted to scream and run away from the conversation but I stay rooted to the spot.
"Well, you need to find out who he was!" She shrieked again but louder this time, gripping my arms in her excitement. I was glad that Spencer wasn't there. "I mean…what if he's your soul mate or something?"
Soul mate? What did she think this was? Some awful soap opera? Actually, if that were the case I would also be pregnant with his child, and he'd turn out to be my long lost twin brother. The thought made me feel sick and there was no possible way that any of that could happen.
"Seriously, Carls?" I said coolly. "This was not some kind of romantic comedy bullshit! I screwed some guy in a closet! It doesn't matter who he was. I'll probably never see him again."
My mind flashed back to seeing him before our little encounter. He had taken my drink before I could drink the ipecac. Maybe he wasn't too bad of a guy but what goody-two-shoes would screw some girl in the janitor's closet?
"Do you remember anything about him?" Carly asked wishfully. I wanted to gag. This wasn't some hunt for my true love…we were looking for my one-night-stand. Don't most people go home after those feeling shitty, or great and then forget about it? They don't seek out the person. If they did, that ruined the whole one-night part.
"He was wearing this stupid zebra mask." I paused. "You must have seen him a few times."
"I didn't." Carly said, shaking her head at me.
"Oh… well, I saw him a few times before our…encounter." I told her. "He stopped me from drinking ipecac."
"Really?" Carly's eyes went wide. Here it comes. He was a hero, and I was some damsel in distress and he saved me. Or at least that would be what Carly told me. Instead she asked, "Ipecac? Where'd that come from?"
"…I…uh…put it in the punch." I stammered and a glower appeared on Carly's face. "For the record I think everyone forgot about the vomiting once I set off the cherry bomb."
"Sam! How could you?" Carly cried, her distress very clear. "Someone could have gotten really sick!"
"Wait, you're horrified about that but not because I shacked up with some stranger in a closet next to a mop?" I asked sardonically.
"Sam…" Carly said dangerously. And I knew she wouldn't let this go until I promised never to do it again—my promises mean nothing.
"I won't do it again." I told her, turning my attention to this loose string on my shirt. I sat there tugging at it until Carly's hand stilled my own. "I said I wouldn't Carls." I told her again.
"Sam. Do you have any idea of who it could be?" Carly asked once more as if it were of upmost importance. And to Carly it was. To me? Not so much.
"Uh…not at all."
We sat in silence for about five minutes, until my stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the silence. Carly smirked at me as I stood and ran to her cabinet, grabbing two fat cakes and a cinnamon pie.
"Sam… how did Freddie know it was you?" Carly asked into the silence.
"How do I know anything that nub does?" I snapped, not caring if the sentence even made coherent sense. Carly frowned at me with a knowing looking her eyes. I paused in the middle of wolfing down my second fat cake, and shook my head. "Carly no. This guy was much too tall and didn't sound anything like that little freak."
"He didn't even go, Sam. How else would he knew about what happened?" Carly asked, leaning across the couch, pleading with me. I just kept shaking my head.
"Gibby told him." I told her. She frowned again."Remember the text message? Gibby told him-"
"A rumor. Gibby wouldn't know that it was you for sure." Carly told me shaking her head in denial.
"Maybe he heard me shout." I said, crossing my arms. I knew it wasn't Benson with me in that closet. I would have barfed the instant he kissed me. And I didn't, so it wasn't him.
"So Gibby knows what you sound like when you have sex?" Carly asked in a hush toned and I felt my face turn red. She was right at least there. No one who heard should have been able to tell it was me. "Face it, Sam, it was F—"
"Don't say it." She raised an eyebrow at me. "Please, don't say it because it's not true." The venom in my voice made her shrink away from me.
"Then prove it, Sam." Carly said smoothly with a confidence in her voice to rival Fredlump's when he still had something on me. She knew that I wouldn't be able to prove it. "Prove me wrong, Sam."
"I will, Carly." I told her, standing up. "I'll prove it wasn't, Freddie."
I turned and left the apartment, heading across the hall. I was about to slam my fists into the door and get him to answer but paused. What if I did find out it was him? The logical choice was killing him and hiding the body so no one would find out another of my secret shames. Then I'd have to go far, far away so I could never tell Carly the truth. It would never happen though.
Plus, why out of all people would Freddie pick me?
He hated me.
A/N - How quickly I come to hate these fanfics I write when in reality they're not that bad. Ugh...two more chapters to go...I think. I might be able to finish this up in one. I all depends. Next chapter should be up by Friday, but hopefully sooner.