So, My List of Firsts is actually going to be finished! It looks like it will be about 36 chapters... I want to thank everyone who commented and gave me the motivation to continue!

Realer words have never been spoken than the fish is now dead saying it feels like seventh grade all over again. Same.

Chapter 31: My First Interview

My date with Freddie came just four days later, and I was still stuck in the dumb cast. Even with my naturally aggressive tendencies challenged by this arrangement, I was in a pretty good mood.

I allowed him to choose what we did, which mostly came down to my laziness. This way he could plan and I could just go along with whatever he decided we would do together.

My mom was having our house exterminated or something, so I had to get ready at Carly's house. Normally, preparing for a date with the help of your best friend made for a fun time. But my best friend was more overwhelming than other people's. She wanted to do my hair and lend me clothes, and I pretty much had no choice but to go along with it.

Out of my own pathetic nervousness, I let her do what she wanted. Yet this wasn't like my first date a year earlier; I didn't really want to seem girly to try to impress anyone. There was no way to fool Freddie into thinking I was someone I wasn't after our many years of friendship and animosity.

So, once we finished the process, Carly and I both ended up frowning as I looked in the mirror.

"This isn't right," she finally announced.

"I know." My shoulders dropped and I frowned. "But what else am I supposed to do? It's a date. I don't normally dress for dates. You're better at that kind of thing."

"What are you trying to say?"

"That you know how to look nice."

She brightened up again, "oh. Well… Thank you." She looked in the mirror again, and I didn't have to watch her to know she was inspecting me. "Do you know how nicely you have to be dressed?"

I shrugged. "He said no jeans, but that it was pretty casual. I'm not good at that dress code stuff."

"Why don't we get you in some pants and then just finish everything off with a cute jacket or something? I must have one that could work." Carly began rummaging through her closet and throwing stuff in my direction. "If you're not comfortable, you won't feel confident."

I managed to avoid mentioning that I was beginning to feel a little nervous, anyway, and instead just stripped down to my underwear so I could put on the clothes she'd tossed over to me.

A pair of pants and a purple patterned shirt that looked a little nicer than any I owned ended up as the way to go. Once I got Carly's stamp of approval and she let me return to my comfy shoes, everything felt better. Sure, I was still kind of uneasy, but people aren't kidding when they say what you wear matters.

Maybe I wasn't dressed in any sort of attempt to really impress everyone around me, but I felt a lot more ready like this than I had in that other chizz.

He made the long journey across the hall to get me, and Carly did a terrible job of blending in and acting like she wasn't there, despite originally saying she would do just that. We said goodbye to her and then headed out into the hallway so we could get to the parking garage.

At first, neither of us said much. A lot of awkward things happened between us over the years, and a lot of them were really recent, but changing our relationship by choice didn't give us any obvious instructions. As much as I hated being told what to do, it would've been nice if there were a list to help us out right at that moment.

"So," Freddie finally began. "I hope you like what I picked."

"What did you pick?"

"It's a surprise." He looked very proud of himself. I was still adjusting to him doing things to try to keep me happy. If he had any sense, it would probably involved food.

By the time we got there, most of the weirdness had subsided. He even insisted on helping me out of the car, which felt excessive. I let it slide, seeing as I was a temporary cripple.

We got to a restaurant, but instead of talking to a hostess, he led me to the back of the place. If we were washing dishes with some special new soap, I was out.

Fortunately for my sanity, Freddie didn't love cleaning like his mother did, and instead we entered a room with a bunch of tables and supplies arranged.

"What is this?" Several people were standing at some of the tables.

"A cooking class."

I made a face. "You're going to make me work for my food?"

"Well… yeah. But we can work together so you only have to do half of the work. And then we get to eat all of it. It'll taste a lot better than a microwaved piece of ham from Carly's fridge."

The hopeful look in his eyes made me cave sooner than I want to admit. Plus, he pointed to the board with the list of dishes for the class that day, and I saw meat.

"Fine," I shrugged, sliding myself onto the stool next to me. "But this better be the best food ever."

"That's going to be up to you, seeing as you're making it."

I shot him a look. Yet it wasn't long before I remembered that this was his idea for our date, and that even if I was naturally bitter at the prospect of putting effort into anything, I should try to be a little nicer. It wouldn't make for a very fun date if I spent the whole time complaining, no matter how much I generally loved doing so.

Despite the fact that it was a French restaurant, the chef didn't have an accent too hard to understand. That was a good first sign.

What we made turned out not to be super complex. At least, that's what the chef said. It turned out I didn't find that to be true. Almost every step of the way, I did something wrong. It might not have been my fault since I never had a mother teaching me to cook and I was used to taking other people's food. Still, with Freddie next to me doing everything well, despite not being allowed to use a stove until he was at least fifteen, I felt like I needed to do better.

But it was hard to focus on getting all of the ingredients right and getting whatever we made to look pretty. Food can taste just as delicious when it's plopped in front of you in a piece of Tupperware.

Despite my internal complaining about putting in effort to eat, the whole thing was kind of fun. Sure, it took a reminder to not snap at Freddie when he tried to help me; that was the whole point of this activity. But he was letting me make mistakes just as much as he was trying to be helpful. He didn't make laugh at my failures with grating cheese or dicing peppers, but he did laugh with me when I almost spilled our nearly done soup everywhere (caught it just in time!) and when we both accidentally did one step and then had about five extra cups of carrots.

The chef teaching us went around to observe and give tips throughout each course people prepared, but announced he would save formal reviews for when we finished. I could swear he looked a little pained every time he saw what I was doing.

"I'm surprised he hasn't kicked us out yet. I mean, look at this," I gestured toward the lopsided cake as I placed it down on the counter. Freddie's looked pretty great. Maybe it wasn't perfect enough to meet his mother's standards, but at least it was a circle and had all the right ingredients.

He chuckled and shook his head, "I'm sure it's still delicious. It just has… extra character."

"I'll show you extra character-" my threat, which came with a smile rather than an aggressive, threatening face, got cut off when the chef approached.

Freddie and I grew quiet and turned to face his judgment. Normally I ignored the idea of adults forming opinions of me since they were always negative. But with Freddie here, especially seeing as we were on a date doing something he chose, I didn't want to seem like a complete failure.

My display of courses with "extra character" obviously didn't want to play along with this plan. The chef continued staring at my cake from just about every angle known to man without saying anything aside from a few unpromising grunts.

At last, he looked me dead in the eyes. When I say 'dead in the eyes,' I mean that in the most literal sense. I can glare anyone into tomorrow, but this guy just seemed dead inside by the way he looked at me.

"Fork," the chef held out his hand and his assistant handed him the requested item. Freddie and I stood there, awaiting judgment.

It took him an insanely long amount of time to chew because of how slowly the process went. Carly always tells me to take smaller bites so I can talk without just making noises she can't understand; obviously I don't listen, but even Carly eats faster than this guy was doing.

After what could've been precious minutes of my life, the chef whose name I didn't pay attention to looked up at me again. I felt Freddie reach over and squeeze my hand in reassurance. For what might have been the first time, I didn't punch him off of him. Though he did smartly let go after a second and do it under the table so no one could see.

"Sam," the chef started, reading the name tag I was forced to slap onto my shirt. "Your cake is… well, it's certainly not beautiful. In fact, the display is as atrocious as it gets without actually forcing my lunch back up. So, it's not pretty. And I can clearly tell you failed to follow the recipe."

I gulped, but just kept staring at the jerk. I didn't need support from anyone, and I definitely didn't need this guy's praise to move on with my life. Only Carly's encouragement really meant much to me. Still, I didn't want to completely fail – especially not on my first date with Freddie. Otherwise it might be my last.

"However-" he began, which just made everyone around us lean in curiously. "This flavor is… it's excellent." Somehow he didn't seem very excited by this, but it was clear he meant it. "What did you change?"

"Uhhhhhhh…" I stumbled over my words, not expecting to be part of the conversation. "Um, I think I just messed up the recipe." Awkwardly, I cleared my throat and itched at the part of my palm that was uncovered by my cast.

"If that's the case, then this was one wonderful mistake, Sam." This time, the chef nodded his head in what may have been approval, and I felt myself relax a little.

Somehow I still wasn't allowed to be passed over for Freddie or another unsuspecting chef-in-training, since this guy remained in place. When he held up his fork, I thought he was going to take another bite. I wished he wouldn't because I sort of wanted to take the cake and Freddie and run out of there. Instead he looked around the room and said, "all of you, come here and try this."

My eyes widened, and I was pretty sure I saw Freddie's do the same. I have to admit, as everyone started swarming around me, trying the cake, and delivering praise to me, I wasn't exactly hating it.

In fact, I was definitely loving it. Momma loves praise. I could stand to get more of it. A girl can never hear too many compliments, especially when she does well creating food, which is one of the best parts of life.

Apparently our head chef decided this was where he was going to end his class, because he started to focus all of his attention on critiquing tiny aspects of my cake I didn't understand and encouraging the other students and his assistant to do the same. At one point I think I heard him mention something about "undertones" and "notes" that he tasted. None of it made any sense to me, but good cake was good cake, and I certainly wasn't complaining.

About ten minutes after my judgment, the chef's assistant pulled me aside. "Sam, would you mind if I asked you a few questions about your cake? It'd just be great if I could jot down some notes. This way we can write about what you made in our biweekly internet newsletter. Would that be okay?"

I was confused yet again, but I heard something about getting my name written down for a good reason and immediately perked up. "Can I eat some of the entrée we made while you ask me stuff?"

The assistant looked a little surprised but just said, "yeah, of course," and quickly got someone to hand me a plate and silverware at the table where we were now seated toward the back of the room.

It didn't take very long, which may have partially been because I ate way faster than she was expecting. My appetite is even more impressive than my baking skills, which I hope she took note of on the pad of paper she had in her hands.

By the time the interview was done, it looked like the crowd had broken up a little and people were boxing up their food to take home whatever they somehow didn't finish. I went back to our preparation table, only to find Freddie and his leftovers gone.

"Did you see where the guy next to me went?" I asked, turning behind me to the people at the table behind me.

One of them just gave a shrug and shook her head, but the other lady nodded and said, "yeah, he packed up his things and mentioned something about heading to the bathroom. Though I don't know if he planned to wait out in the restaurant or some back. Sorry about that."

I mumbled some form of things and grabbed my jacket, making my way to the door to find Frednub. "Great cake!" someone shouted, but I didn't look back to see who it was.

When I got into the main part of the restaurant, there was no sign of Freddie. Realizing he'd gotten pretty overlooked on our date after I made a cake the wrong way, I started to worry he had ditched me. Sure, I make a lot of things about myself because I feel like I'm pretty important, but I hadn't done it on purpose this time.

Today was supposed to be about both of us and somehow I'd messed it all up.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so surprising Sam Puckett completely failed to be a good date. Maybe no matter how well he knew me, Freddie realized he actually had no idea what he was getting into and decided to leave.

Reminding myself he could possibly still be nearby, I walked over to the bathrooms, only to find the men's door open. With a sigh, I headed for the front door. I could get myself back to Carly's apartment and ask her to give me food and pretend for a little while it didn't hurt.

But how pathetic it was. The kid I'd picked on for so long asked me on a date and really meant it, but of course I was too much for him. It was really hard to remind myself I was super tough and shouldn't be bothered by this.

Throwing the door open, I walked outside and let out a sigh. Only one step out the door, I heard a very familiar voice say, "hey, Sam."

I turned around, and there was Freddie Benson. He gave me a dumb little wave, and like the ridiculous girly person I'd become, I felt my insides swirl around excitedly. He hadn't left, after all.

"Where'd you go, Fredward?"

"I had to go to the bathroom and thought I'd wait for you outside the back room, but then my mom called and so I headed out here."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

I shrugged. "I dunno… I guess I just thought…"

"That I'd left?" Dang, the nub knew me a little too well.

I shrugged again, not wanting to seem lame. "There was a lot going on back there so I didn't know if you got bored and decided to leave. That probably wasn't what you wanted for our date."

"It wasn't what I expected, I'll grant you that," he told me, somehow still sounding smart even during a talk like this. "And yeah, sure, I was hoping you'd spend our date with me more than with the rest of the people in the class. But you made an awesome cake! It was great everyone else got to see that."

A smile started to form on my face for a second and I looked up, realizing we had started walking down the sidewalk and no one was really around. "I just… I mean, I sort of left you without really thinking about it to brag about my cooking accidents."

"Would you still be Sam if you didn't act without thinking?"

I looked back down at the ground and gave yet another shrug. It's possible my shoulders were getting a great workout by that point. "That's definitely who I am. But dates are meant for… you know, bonding, and stuff."

"Bonding and stuff?" He did that cute eyebrow thing and I knew I was in for it.

"Shut up, Fredweird. You know what I mean."

"I do, I do," he raised his hands in surrender. "And of course I want to spend time with you on our date, but I'm also not expecting you to change for me."

"But I'm so… Sam," I reasoned, knowing he would get what I meant.

"Yes, and I'm pretty sure Sam is who I asked on a date."

"Pretty sure?" It was my time to tease him, especially since he was making me feel better again in a way I would never have guessed he would be able to do a few years ago.

"Well she certainly looked like Sam. Sounded like her, too. She even rejected me the first time in a totally Sam way."

"Okay, Benson, I'm sorry!"

"Are you?"

"Mmmmmm… barely."

"I thought so."

"You don't know me."

"Are you sure about that?" He challenged.

Like the mature high school student I was, I stuck my tongue out at him in response.

"Hey," Freddie started, stopping in place and moving closer to me. "I'm glad you eventually said yes. I had fun cooking beside you. You're definitely an entertaining cooking partner."

I rolled my eyes but smiled a little, anyway. "You chose a fun thing to do. That helps."

"Thanks," he said, and I could tell he was really happy I was pleased with his choice.

We stood there for a few more seconds, both feeling more comfortable again as the time ticked by.

"Sam?" he asked, looking at me curiously and moving one of his hands to push some of my curls from my face. It felt way too sweet to be a moment that involved me somehow.

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

The question caught me a little off guard. The first time we kissed, we chatted about doing it just to get it over with. The second time, I kissed him out of nowhere and then bolted. The third time, he'd just gone for it as a way to show me he wasn't making up his feelings for me.

He'd never asked before. Neither of us had, and it made me feel a nervousness that made me uneasy and also excited. I couldn't even focus on how lame that was.

"Um," I paused. Of course the answer was yes, but I wasn't sure if it was actually that easy. Things were never easy between Freddie and me, so it was startling that maybe they could be for at least a moment. Finally, I just nodded, not really knowing what else to say.

Taking that as his cue, Freddie closed the rest of the space between us, shuffling closer. Before I could really think about it, his hand moved further into my hair and his lips pressed onto mine and my eyes closed as if out of instinct.

It wasn't a very heated kiss, but it lasted several seconds, and by the time it ended, I realized my hand was on his shoulder and he had tipped my face up to his as if he knew that would help without actually considering it.

Typical Frednub. Has to be intelligent about everything.

It was definitely the best kiss I'd ever had, but I didn't tell him that, because his ego didn't need inflating.

Instead, I punched his shoulder. A second later, I cringed. "Sorry. Instinct."

"We're going to have to work on your habits," he chuckled. The look in his eyes made my stomach feel gross and mushy.

Soon enough, I was the one laughing and rolling my eyes when he went to hold my hand, only to accidentally go for the hand with a cast over part of it. "You may want to go around to the other side," was all I said.

Freddie did just that, somehow thinking I knew what I was talking about for once. He just took hold of my other hand, and even though it was totally sappy and not normal for me, I held his hand back.

"I won't ditch you next time," I told him, feeling mildly sentimental.

"Next time?"

"Well, I don't know… I just figured 'cause," I held up our hands, starting to panic a little inside.

"I hope there's a next time," he admitted, reassuring me with a smile I previously would have made fun of.

"Holy chizz - don't scare me like that!" I threatened him, not actually doing more than making a face as we walked.

"Sam Puckett's scared?" His tone was teasing, but there was something in his face that implied he was trying to make sure it wasn't true.

I hesitated, letting us walk for a bit without replying. Opening up was not something I liked to do, especially not to anyone other than Carly. But if we were going to head on another date sometime, then I reasoned I probably couldn't hide every single thought I had from Freddie.

My response was a mumbled, "this is just… new. For me. For us."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I guess I'm just… worried," I confessed. Suddenly, I gave him a half-angry look. "But don't tell anyone that or the hand I'm holding won't work anymore."

"Sam," he started, somehow laughing a bit despite my threat. Maybe because he knew I would rather avoid breaking his hand for once. "I have no idea what I'm doing. When we first became friends, you were definitely near the bottom of the list of people I would ever have imagined going on a date with. You beat me up and pranked me so often that I figured you'd rather bathe in toxic waste than have feelings for me that weren't hatred."

"You'd be correct," I admitted quietly.

"Yet here we are, anyway. We both have feelings for each other and we've said as much to the other person's face. Carly totally knows because she walked in on us kissing-"

"Not our finest moment," I pointed out, the corner of my mouth turning upward.

"And, unless I'm totally oblivious, we both had fun on our first date."

"Also correct."

"So," Freddie stopped walking again for emphasis. "This is nuts! My mom scared me away from dating almost anyone, and you scared me away from even considering dating or befriending you for years. But I really like you, Sam. And it's scary. Okay? It's scary because we only just figured out our friendship thing a little while ago and there's no rule book for this. Of course Carly will swoop in with all of her well-intentioned advice, but for the most part, we're going in blind. I'm used to being the guy who can solve everything, but this is one mystery I have no answers for. Does that freak me out? Yes. But am I excited for it anyway? Yes. So if you are scared, even if you don't want to say it, just know you're not the only one."

I stared at him for a while, amazed that he had actually just told me all about how he was feeling. It wasn't even one of Carly's nervous rambles. Freddie seemed to really want to share all of that with me. And, honestly, it did make me feel a little better.

"Thanks," I said at last. "You're not… totally off." By saying it, I could tell he knew I was admitting to being scared, too, in my own way.

Freddie's response was to smile and give my hand a squeeze.

"You really want to go on another date?"

"I mean, maybe not this second, but yeah. I definitely do."

"Well, is this one over now?" I wasn't really sure how these were supposed to work. Did drop me at my door? Was I supposed to find my way home while he drove back to his apartment? Would he take me to Carly's?

He shrugged. "It doesn't have to be. Want to go drop this stuff in the fridge and then head to see a movie or something?"

"Did they give you a plastic fork in the bag?"

"Yeah, why?"

"We could just go to the movie. There may not be any left by the time we get there. If you want to share, that is," the last bit pained me to say. I never asked to share. Normally I just took food.

Freddie chuckled. "You can have it when we get to the car. Any specific movies you want to see?"

I shook my head as we resumed our journey to the parking lot down the road. "Nah, I'm good. Plus, I'll have food on the way so everything sounds good."

"You're such a dork," he chuckled.

"I'm the dork?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and looking at him like he was ridiculous. Which he is.

"A dork and a nerd are not the same thing. If I have to be the nerd, then you're definitely the dork."

"Benson, you're gonna get it." But even as I threatened him, we both knew nothing was actually going to happen as we walked hand-in-hand toward his car.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Coming up: a crazy trip for the iCarly team + Spencer, which includes some potentially regretful decisions...

Please comment/message me with your thoughts, wishes, complaints, random ideas, etc. :)