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It was a humid night in early August, and Sam Puckett found herself sprawled across the Shay’s couch, TV remote in one hand, root beer in the other. Carly had been watching TV with her, up until about a half hour ago, when she got a call from her dad and had abandoned her friend for greener pastures. Sam didn’t mind. She knew how rare it was for Carly to hear from her father. Sam took a sip of her root beer and stretched lazily, her head tilted back to look up the stairs.
Carly was finally coming back down from her room, wearing a bright smile.
“Carls!” Sam called, straightening up into a sitting position. “How’s your dad?”
“He’s getting some leave soon!”
“You’re gonna get to see him?” Sam grinned. “That’s awesome!”
Carly nodded. “I can’t wait.” Carly paused, noticing an empty bottle of root beer on the table, and the half-full bottle in Sam’s hand. “Sam…Is that my root beer?”
“Maybe.”
“Sam,” Carly rolled her eyes fondly. “This is why you don’t have a boyfriend. What boy is going to put up with you?” Carly started toward the kitchen to get herself a new bottle of root beer.
“Ugh,” Sam groaned. “Not this again. I told you, I’m perfectly happy being single.”
“I know…” Carly sighed, opening up the fridge. “I just want you to be happy, and I met this great guy the other day at the Groovy Smoothie, Matt, and I was just thinking—”
“Carly!” Sam cut her off angrily. “Stop it! I don’t want to date some guy you just met!”
“You’re so difficult!” Carly huffed, “And you drank all my root beer.”
Sam shrugged, so Carly grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “I’m going to get more root beer. Maybe you’ll be more reasonable when I get back.”
“Can you also pick up some more Fat Cakes?”
“No!” Carly shouted, slamming the door behind her.
Sam sighed, leaned back on the couch, and flipped through a couple channels, before she heard the elevator open behind her. She turned around to see Freddie exiting. A small part of her brain remembered Carly saying something about him working on something in the studio.
“Hey, Frednerd.” She greeted, holding up her root beer and trying to wave it.
“Hey, where’s Carly? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, Carly just took of to buy more root beer.” Sam sipped slowly.
Freddie narrowed his eyes. “I heard yelling.”
Sam shrugged. “Carly is obsessed with setting me up with every halfway decent guy she comes across, and I gently let her know how I feel about it.”
“Ah,” Freddie nodded, and sat himself down on the couch next to her. “Gotcha.”
“She needs to chill out,” Sam shook her head. “I don’t need a boyfriend.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one with problems.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “What, still pining over Carly?”
“You know I haven’t been into Carly for over a year, Sam.” Freddie rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It’s my mom.”
“More tick baths?” Sam smirked.
Freddie shot Sam a look. “She still treats me like a child. I’m almost eighteen and I still have a bedtime. I just wish I could do something to show her that I’m growing up, even if it made her mad.” He paused. “Actually, especially if it made her mad.”
Sam’s eyebrows went up. “Someone’s fired up.”
“I don’t need any of your sass, Puckett.” Freddie frowned and grabbed the remote out of her hands.
Sam crossed her arms. “Whatever.”
Freddie clicked through a few channels, while Sam glanced toward the door, wondering when Carly would be back. Stupid Carly, thinking I need a boyfriend. I don’t. And I especially don’t need a guy like the last one. He was so nerdy he might as well have been… Freddie. Sam turned to look back at the boy sitting next to her, the gears in her head already turning.
“Freddie.” she started. “I have a proposition for you. Something that’ll solve both our problems.”
Freddie raised an eyebrow. “I’m not doing anything illegal.”
“You don’t have to break any laws,” Sam smiled devilishly. “You just have to date me.”
“What?!”
“Calm down,” Sam said evenly. “Not for real. We just…pretend to date.”
“I get how this would get Carly off your back,” Freddie crossed his arms. “But why would I agree to this?”
“Boy, for a supposed genius, you sure are dumb,” Sam laughed and gave Freddie a light shove. “What would piss Crazy—”
“I told you not to call her that.”
“—Your mother off more than her baby boy hooking up with ‘that delinquent freak’?” Sam gestured towards herself. “As far as your mom is concerned, I’m diseased garbage. She hates it enough that we’re friends.”
“That’s insane.” Freddie shook his head, but a smile was slowly spreading across his face. “But…It might actually work.”
“Of course it’ll work.” Sam grinned. “Have I ever led you astray before?”
Freddie gave Sam a look that said Do you really want me to answer that? before he spoke. “We’re gonna need some ground rules. So this doesn’t get, y’know, awkward.”
“Okay, Rule #1: You have to ask me before you touch me.”
Freddie rolled his eyes. “How about, no contact without permission. And it goes both ways.”
“Fine.”
“Rule #2: If people are gonna buy that we’re a couple, you have to be nicer to me.”
“Ugh.” Sam groaned, but she knew Freddie was right. “Whatever.”
“Sam.”
“Alright, alright.” Sam finished off her root beer. “Rule #3: No one can know that is fake. No one. As far as the world is concerned, Sam Puckett and Freddie Benson are deeply, madly in love.”
Freddie grinned and put out his hand to shake. “Deal.”
Sam spit in her palm and took his hand.
“Sam! That’s disgusting!”
“Hey, you’re gonna have to get used to my spit, Benson.”
Freddie just glared.
They put their plan into motion the next afternoon. They gathered Carly, Spencer, Gibby, and Freddie’s mother in the Shay’s apartment.
“I bet you’re wondering why we called you all here.” Freddie began.
“Kinda,” Spencer replied. “Especially because neither of you live here!”
Sam rolled her eyes. “We have an announcement to make.”
Freddie nodded. “Yeah.”
Sam and Freddie exchanged a glance, neither one quite sure how to begin.
“Well,” Carly drawled out, clearly impatient. “Out with it!”
“Right.” Freddie hesitated. “Sam and I are, well the thing is, um”
“We’re a couple,” Sam said bluntly.
“What?!” Came a collective scream, from everyone except Spencer.
“When did this happen?” Carly shrieked. “How did this happen? Sam, you didn’t even tell me you liked him! Oh my God, how did I not know?”
“Freddie, have you lost your mind? Sam’s gonna kill you within a month. It was nice knowing you, buddy.” Gibby clapped Freddie on the shoulder.
Sam rolled her eyes, and if Freddie didn’t know her as well as he did, he would’ve missed the slight hurt behind her eyes. He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. To his surprise, she didn’t make any move to pull away.
“Fredward Benson!” Mrs. Benson, who’d gone silent after her initial shock, spoke hesitantly. “How—How can you be with this, this dirty criminal?!”
“Because I want to, Mom.”
“She’s not good enough for you!” Came the shrill reply. “Is she threatening you? Somehow forcing you into doing this?”
“No, Mom!” Freddie snapped. “I chose this!”
“I just don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to understand.” Freddie crossed his arms. “I’m almost eighteen. I can date whoever I want. And I want Sam. Deal. With. It.”
She shrank back, as if he’d slapped her clean across the face. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room, and Freddie started to panic internally. Maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe it's too much for my mom. Maybe they all know it's fake.
It was Sam who broke the silence, unsurprisingly. “Spencer,” she said, “you don’t seem surprised.”
Spencer looked up sharply, and Freddie realized he’d probably been somewhere else for a moment. “Oh, well yeah, I mean. This was bound to happen eventually.”
“It was?” Carly asked. She still looked a little shell shocked.
“Totally. It’s Sam and Freddie. They drive each other crazy.”
“Yeah,” Gibby scoffed. “Because they hate each other. Or they used to, at least.”
“Hey, I’m an artist. I know passion, and those two” Spencer gestured towards Sam and Freddie, “They’ve got it in spades.”
Freddie tried to ignore the lump forming in his throat. Spencer’s wrong, he told himself. Obviously.
They had their first “date” the next day. They sat in the Groovy Smoothie, holding hands under the table, and talking. They didn’t manage not to argue, but they did manage to make each other smile.
“So, what exactly do people talk about on dates?” Sam asked. “Or first dates, I guess.”
Freddie wore his surprise blatantly. “You’ve been on more dates than me.”
“Yeah, but... I’ve never dated a good guy before,” Sam kept her eyes glued to the table. “And you’re a good guy. I’m sure you ask your dates about themselves and listen carefully when they say they love pineapple, so you can remember it for next time, or whatever.”
Freddie couldn’t help the smile on this face. “Sam, even if this was a real date, I wouldn’t be doing that.”
Her eyes snapped up. “Why not?”
“Because I already know you.”
Sam scoffed. She liked to think she did a better job of guarding herself than that. “Yeah, right.”
“Your birthday is November 15th. Your favorite color is brown, because it’s the color of gravy. You wear mismatched socks because you think it’s good luck. You’d do anything for a piece of meat. You don’t always get along with your mom, but you love her. You have a twin sister named Melanie.”
Sam wanted to throttle him. “That’s all stuff Carly and Spencer know. Those are Sam Puckett basics.”
Freddie narrowed his eyes. “I’d remind you of what you’ve told me about your dad, but I believe you threatened my life if I spoke of it again. So.”
Sam sighed. “Okay, fine. You know me.”
Freddie grinned. “If it makes you feel better, you know me, too, Sam.”
Sam nodded and sipped her smoothie. “So, what’s our next date?”
Their next date was an MMA fight. Freddie swore he could see smoke coming out of his mother’s ears when he told her. He left the apartment and met up with Sam anyway. He got a great fight out of it, and since they’re public figures and you never know where a crazy fan with a camera phone will pop up, he got a really fun evening out of it. Sam could be nice, and cute, even, when she wanted to be. Even if she made him pay for her food and then didn’t let him eat any of it. That was just Sam, and he found he didn’t really mind it.
She stayed with Carly that night, so they walked home arm and arm and Freddie tried to ignore how much he liked that. Sam knew Carly would be watching through the peephole as they said goodnight, so they gave her a show.
“I had fun tonight, Benson.” Sam looked up at him and smiled.
“Me too, Puckett.” He returned her sentiment and her smile. “Jackson Colt really can’t be beat.”
“It wasn’t just the fight,” she said earnestly. “The company was good, too.”
Freddie laughed. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you like me a little bit.”
Sam blushed, and Freddie was impressed because it’s one thing to be a good liar and another thing to be able to blush on command. “You’re going to ruin my reputation.”
“Oh, and we can’t have that,” he was smirking, but there was no bite behind his words.
“Absolutely not.” She smiled at him, really smiled. Not a smirk or a devilish grin, just a real, full smile. He swallowed hard.
“I should get inside.”
“Me too.”
And then he took a breath and leaned down and kissed her cheek. It was quick, but soft, and she didn’t stop smiling.
“Goodnight, Sam.”
“Goodnight, Fredweird.”
Carly wanted to know everything, and at first, it was exhausting for Sam to keep up with it. It was one thing to say she was dating Freddie, but it was something else entirely to fabricate feelings for him.
And that’s what she thought she was doing at first. For the first few weeks, the first month of it, really. She would ask herself, what a girl like Wendy or Carly would say if she was dating Freddie.
First, it was his eyes. They were chocolate brown and so...soft and warm. She couldn’t deny that she’d noticed them before, but only because they were glaring at her so often. In any case, a girl who liked Freddie would love those eyes. “His eyes,” she told Carly. “I like his eyes. A look from him is like a hug.” Carly teased Sam for sounding too romantic, and she knew she’d said the right thing.
After his eyes, she talked about his smile. His laugh. His hair, which she’d learned was quite soft. His hands, which were rougher than she expected—she didn’t know computers could give someone calluses—but nonetheless she told Carly how they felt like fit perfectly in hers.
Sam was a good liar. She convinced Carly she was in love with Freddie, and she convinced herself she wasn’t.
They’d been fake-dating a little over a month when Sam couldn’t deny it to herself any longer. She was falling for him.
She and Freddie were snuggled on the Shay’s couch, and Carly was sitting at the computer, and they were planning the next iCarly. Or trying too, rather. Freddie kept tickling Sam’s stomach, which two months ago would’ve resulted in a broken finger, but somehow, instead, she was giggling and wriggling around in his arms. “S-stop!”
“Make me!”
In answer, she wrapped her legs around him and pushed him backwards on the couch, so she had him pinned. She grinned as she tickled him back, and his reluctant laughter filled the apartment.
“Guys!” Carly shouted, “We have to get this done.”
The couple glanced up sheepishly and apologized in unison. "Sorry."
Carly rolled her eyes. “I haven’t even seen you two kiss and you still manage to be the most disgusting couple I’ve ever seen.”
Carly’s words didn’t fall on deaf ears, and as Freddie was helping Carly plan for the next webcast, the gears in Sam’s head were turning.
She waited until she and Freddie were alone in the elevator on the way down to the lobby to bring up what Carly said. (These days he always walked her out to the lobby when she left. As far as Carly was concerned, they were saying goodnight privately, but really it was their time to compare notes, make sure they were still on the same page.)
The elevator doors closed and Sam took a breath before turning to Freddie. “Kiss me.”
“What?!”
“You heard me, Benson.” Sam huffed. “Carly hasn’t seen us kiss, and I think that’s maybe kind of weird. She might get suspicious.”
“Oh.”
“We should practice. It can’t look like our first time when she sees it.”
Freddie grinned cockily. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”
She wanted to snap at him. “Can it, Benson.” But instead she pulled him down into a kiss. At first, neither one of them was sure what to do, each one afraid to push the boundary. Sam snapped first, as her hands found their way through his hair, and pulled him closer. She moved her lips against his, and that was all he needed to move in hungrily. He pushed her against the back of elevator, and she let out an involuntary moan.
Neither of them noticed when the elevator door opened, they were too wrapped up in each other. They didn’t part until they heard Lewbert scream.
“Good practice?” Freddie asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sam tried to look exasperated, but she was sure her puffy lips and breathlessness heart gave her away. “Good practice, asshole.”
That night, she settled into bed, and ran her hands along her lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss.
Three months into their experiment, Freddie’s mom snapped. It was a Tuesday, which was the one night of the week that Freddie was obligated to stay at his own apartment, and not go over to Carly’s or Sam’s. Fall had come to Seattle, and with it the cold, so Freddie was wearing an oversized sweatshirt that Sam had left in his room.
“Oh,” his mother wrinkled her nose as soon as Freddie entered the kitchen. “Does that belong to the delinquent?”
Freddie crossed his arms. “So what if it does?”
“Then it’s probably diseased, Freddie!” Marissa turned away from the asparagus she was preparing. “It’s bad enough that you bring that girl over here, but now you’re wearing her clothes? Why does she even own a sweatshirt that big?”
“She likes big sweatshirts. They’re comfortable, Mom.” Freddie shot his mother a glare.
She sighed. “I just don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”
“I already told you. I want to be with Sam.”
“But, but,” Marissa stumbled over her words. “What do you even see in her?”
Freddie was quiet for a moment, before he responded, his voice cold as ice. “Sam is funny and smart and stronger than anyone else I know. And sure, we argue a lot, and she’s kind of insane,” he sighed, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way... I...I love her.” Freddie wasn’t sure when his little speech became true. But he knew that by the end he was speaking complete truth.
His mother went quiet. “I just want what’s best for you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re my son.”
“I’m eighteen now, Mom.” Freddie said calmly. “You have to let me make my own decisions, even if you think they’re mistakes.”
Marissa only nodded.
Four and a half months in, they decided to end it. Or, rather, Sam decided to end it, and Freddie didn’t fight it. They were on the fire escape, just talking. They’d taken to doing this quite often. Sam let Carly think she was heading over to Freddie’s for some “alone time” but in reality, they drank root beer and talked about whatever was on their minds. It was nice. Fake-dating really improved their friendship, somehow.
“It’s a miracle, Sam,” Freddie said, “After I yelled at my mom in October, everything is different. No more tick baths, no more fish loaf, and best of all, no more bedtime.”
Sam laughed. “You’re really living the high life, Benson.”
“Hey, these are big steps for my mom.” Freddie took a sip of his root beer.
“I’m glad this worked for you.” Sam pursed her lips.
Freddie cocked his head to the side. “Did it not work for you?”
“I mean, obviously Carly isn’t trying to set me up with anyone,” Sam shrugged. “But she’s constantly asking me about you. Do you know how exhausting it is coming up with nice things to say about you?”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Sorry,” Sam mumbled into her bottle before taking a sip.
They fell into silence for a moment, Freddie letting his eyes wander over the city skyline, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. For awhile, he’d let himself forget that this wasn’t real, and Sam’s irritation at having to say nice things about him smacked him back to reality.
“I think we should breakup.”
“Sam…Why?” Freddie shook his head sadly.
“Because you got what you wanted,” Sam shrugged. “And if we stage a nasty breakup, I’ll get at least three more months with Carly off my back.”
“Right…” Freddie nodded. It made sense. He hated it, but it made sense. “So, uh, how do we make a breakup believable?”
“We gotta show it coming. Spend less time together, argue more,” Sam took a sip of her root beer. “Basically, show them that we’re starting to remember all the things we hate about each other.”
“But we don’t hate each other…” Freddie hesitated. “At least, I don’t hate you.”
“I know, but you know what I mean,” Sam waved him off.
Truth be told, Sam didn’t want to breakup with Freddie anymore than she wanted to cut her own ear off, but she knew she couldn’t stay in a fake relationship with him any longer. Everyday she spent with him, but not really with him, she wanted him to be hers even more. Sometimes, it felt so real, and that was the worst part. She was becoming addicted to him, almost, and she had to stop it before it got any worse. It already hurt more than any of her real breakups.
“Fredbag, get me a soda,” she called from her perch on the Shay’s sofa.
“Why do you always make me do everything for you?” He snapped, not moving. It wasn’t normal bickering, he seemed genuinely mad. And he didn’t make any move to obey her this time.
“Because it’s what a good boyfriends do.” Sam grinned callously. Truthfully, she felt sick. She felt like they were thirteen again.
“You know, some girls are actually nice to their boyfriends,” Freddie shot her a glare, his normally soft eyes hard and cold. “But that’s probably a strange concept to you.”
Carly stepped in then. “You guys, stop fighting. What is going on with you two?”
“Ask Sam,” Freddie sneered. “I’m leaving.” He was out the door before either girl could say anything else.
Sam looked sheepish. She knew it was a fake fight, but Freddie’s anger didn’t feel fake, and she hated that. Why is he mad? “Things are kind of…bad…between us.”
“Yeah…” Carly sighed. “You guys seemed so solid. What happened?”
Sam shrugged. “I guess the honeymoon phase is wearing off…And we’re really different people, after all.”
“Do you think you’ll breakup?”
“I don’t know,” Sam lied.
Freddie was miserable. He and Sam had officially broken up, and now it was like the last six months hadn’t happened. In fact, things were worse than before. They were back to arguing constantly, and only hanging out when they were both hanging out with Carly. He could tell it was wearing on Carly, and he knew Sam could tell, too, but every time they tried to talk, it was like there were a dozen cement walls between them. The worst part was he couldn’t talk to anyone about it, because to fully explain how horrible he felt, he would have to confess to faking the relationship, and he knew Sam would kill him for that. So he just sat in his room, obsessively tweaking the source code for iCarly.com.
He sat on his mother’s couch, scrolling through some comments on the latest webcast, stopping every so often on a comment about how funny or pretty Sam was and feeling an ache in his chest. “Damn it,” he muttered, slammed his laptop shut, and tossed it to the side.
“Freddie,” his mother’s voice came from behind him.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“I…I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I know she made you happy,” Marissa said, with a gentle hand on his shoulder, “But there are other fish in the sea.”
“I guess.”
Somehow Freddie knew that his mom was wrong about that—there was no one else in the world who would make him feel like Sam did. No one.
It was Valentine’s Day, and somehow, someway, Sam had a date. Probably because she wanted some poor sap to buy her chocolate and dinner, but still, it hurt more than Freddie cared to admit.
For once, he wasn’t alone. Spencer was single, too, and had invited Freddie over for a “bachelor’s night” and even though Freddie knew that Carly had probably forced Spencer to do so, he accepted, and found himself on the Shay’s couch, watching Celebrities Underwater with Spencer.
“Man, you are terrible company,” Spencer observed.
“I know.”
“You really miss Sam, don’t you?”
Freddie nodded. “I can’t believe she has a date already.”
“She just wants free food.” Spencer offered.
“I know, but still…”
“I know, buddy…” Spencer hesitated. “Do you want talk about it?”
Freddie swallowed, he really, really did. Screw it. “Sam and I weren’t really dating, it was a huge lie,” he blurted.
“Woah, what?!”
“It was so stupid! I wanted to do something to piss my mom off, and Sam wanted Carly to stop setting her up with random guys.” Freddie hung his head in his hands.
“If it was fake, then why are you so upset?”
“Because! I’m in love with her!” Freddie’s voice was muffled from his hands.
“Oh.”
“And I know she doesn’t feel the same way, and probably never will, and I’m just so screwed.” Freddie shook his head. “Aren’t I so screwed?”
“Nope.”
“What?” Freddie looked up slowly. “What are you talking about?”
“Kid. Sam loves you, too. No one can fake the way she looks at you, even a great liar like her. You should tell her how you feel.”
“Spencer…” Freddie bit his lip. “You really think so?”
“Sometimes you gotta take chances in love,” Spencer gave a reassuring smile, “But it’s always worth it in the end.”
Sam wanted to hit something. She missed Freddie more than she thought she could ever miss someone. And that made her furious. It wasn’t fair, that she should care so much for a boy who would never reciprocate. It wasn’t fair that he’d broken through all her carefully erected walls. None of it was fair. It was early March, still too cold to call it Spring, but she found herself out on that stupid fire escape.
Freddie was with Carly that night, editing something for iCarly, so she knew she was safe. She sat in his chair, and closed her eyes. It smelled like him. She remembered their first kiss, how soft his lips were, how her heart raced, how she’d shoved those feelings down so deep for so long. Letting them out was like Pandora’s Box, and she knew she was never going to be able to force them back to the corner of her mind ever again. She indulged her heart for a moment, and imagined that he was holding her tightly in his arms.
“Sam?” His voice came.
She snapped her eyes open. “You’re not supposed to back yet.”
“Carly was getting tired.”
“I’ll…I’ll go.” She stood up and stepped towards the window, where he stood.
“No,” he said, stepping out, and forcing her to take a step back. “Stay.”
“Okay.” She sat back down in his chair, and he sat on the steps.
“Why did you come out here?” He asked quietly.
“None of your business,” she snapped immediately. But she saw the hurt in his eyes, and sighed. “I…I missed you.”
“Oh.”
Sam just shrugged. She already felt too vulnerable and exposed for her liking, and she just wanted to leave and forget this ever happened.
“Sam…” Freddie started cautiously. “I…I have to tell you something…” He struggled for his words, and Sam wondered for a moment if he was going to tell her that he was dating someone. He took a deep breath, and then deflated. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m sorry.”
“Just spit it out.” She stood up angrily, and walked toward the railing. She leaned over and looked out over the city lights.
“Sam.” There was an urgency in his voice, as he stood up and stepped towards her. He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. He looked like he was about to speak, but instead he just leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was soft and slow and uncertain, and he tasted like Peppi Cola.
He pulled back, and spoke gently. “I’m in love with you.”
She blinked up at him, and pulled him down for another kiss. This one was deeper, rougher, less uncertain. Her hands found their way into his hair again, and she hoped that the moment would never end. This time she pulled back. His eyes were soft, searching, her face but he didn’t say anything.
“I love you, too.”
“Sam.” His voice was softer now, bubbling with joy, and something Sam wouldn’t have been able to place before that night—love.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” She smiled, and he pulled her into a hug. To her surprise, he was able to lift her feet off the ground and spin her around. She heard herself laugh as he set her back on her feet.
“So, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Now what?”
“You buy me dinner?” Sam shrugged innocently.
“Sam!” He exclaimed, in a familiar tone of fond irritation. “I’m serious.”
“Okay, okay,” she took his right hand off her waist, and locked their fingers together so she could run her thumb over his index finger. “How about this? I want to be with you, but I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
She looked down at her feet. “Getting hurt, losing you…”
“Hey, hey,” he put his free hand under her chin to raise her head, so he could look in her eyes. “You’re not gonna lose me. I love you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maybe not. But I know you. I’ve known you for five years. I’ve fought with you, screamed at you, wanted to kill you. And I’m still standing here in front you, asking you to give me a chance.” He smiled at her. “I’d like to think I know what I’m getting myself into, here.”
She couldn’t help returning his smile. “Say it again.”
“What?”
She blushed. “Say you love me again.”
“Oh.” His smile grew. “I love you, Sam. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love—”
She cut him off with a kiss. “Okay,” she said, when she pulled back.
“Okay?” His eyes searched hers again.
“Yes.”
"Carly...Carls...I gotta tell you a secret.." Sam slurred drunkenly.
"Yeah?" Carly asked, trying her best to support Sam's weight as they walked through the parking lot behind Sam's apartment building. "And what's that?"
"I love fried chicken." Sam punctuated the sentence with a giggle and a hiccup.
"That's not a secret, Sam." Carly loved her best friend, but she was ridiculous when she was drunk.
"I know," Sam tripped over nothing. "I got scared to tell you my real secret."
"I'm having some serious déjà vu here, Sam."
Sam stopped suddenly. "Uh-oh."
Carly didn't even ask what was wrong, she just held Sam's hair as she threw up into a bush. "Oh, Sam."
"I don't feel good, Carls."
"I know, Sam."
They walked in silence for a few more feet, almost to the door of the building, before Sam spoke again. "I gotta tell you my secret."
"So tell me."
"You know...Freddie?"
"Yes, I know Freddie." Seriously. Major déjà vu.
"Remember when we started dating? And then we broke up?"
"I remember."
"We-We weren't, uh...that was fake."
"What?"
But Sam was giggling uncontrollably, and Carly knew she wasn't going to get a straight answer out her friend. So she continued to carry her home. Freddie was holding a glass of water when the two girls arrived at the apartment Sam and Freddie shared. He somehow managed to get Sam to drink the water, and the two of them put her to bed with only a little bit of fuss.
"So," Freddie started as he walked Carly down the hall. "I guess you guys had a fun time at the bachelorette party?"
"We did," Carly confirmed.
"You still crashing on the couch?" They knew she'd be bringing Sam back late, so they had already planned for Carly to spend the night at their apartment.
"If you don't mind." Carly smiled.
"Of course not. I already made up the couch. There's some of Sam's spare pajamas out there, as well."
"Thanks."
"Thank you." Freddie turned to walk back towards the bedroom his shared with Sam.
"Hey, Freddie?" Carly called. "Can I ask you something?"
"What's up?"
"Just something Sam said, that she's not going to remember in the morning."
Freddie chuckled. "Yeah?"
"She said that when you two first started dating it was fake..."
Freddie paled. "Uh...Well..."
"Oh my God, it's true?" Carly frowned. "Why would you guys lie like that?"
"She wanted you to stop setting her up with random guys, and I wanted to piss off my mom," Freddie admitted. "It was stupid, and I'm sorry we lied to you."
"So how...How did it become real? I mean, assuming you're not about to have a fake wedding next week." Carly rolled her eyes.
"I guess we both realized we really liked what we were pretending to have," Freddie shrugged. "Honestly, I think I liked Sam for a really long time before I realized it."
Carly smiled softly. "That's sweet."
"So you're not mad?"
"Nah." Carly shook her head. "That was like eight and half years ago, anyway. Sam's getting an earful tomorrow, though."
Freddie chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He turned to walk back to the bedroom again. "Sleep well."
"Goodnight, Freddie."