iPrincess of the Prom(An iCarly Fanfiction)

10. Out of Sight, Out of Line (Out of League!)

Sam's POV

Uh. What just happened?

That's basically the only thought running through my mind at the moment. I hadn't meant for that to happen and honestly, I'm not even sure what it was that just went down up there.

Was he going to kiss me or was it only my imagination? If he was actually going to kiss me, was it just in the heat of the moment or does he really want to? And if he really wants to, what do I do now?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

School 's been weird the last few days. At first, I thought Carly had gotten over her tiff which was nice but then I realized she was being too nice and now I'm just waiting on what favor she's going to throw at me. I'm almost anxious for it honestly. Usually, I love when Carly's on a "get shit done" high but now I have nothing to do since she's trying to do everything and it's making my anxiety overload. Not to mention, Freddie hasn't said anything and neither have I about our weird moment the other day and we've got no terms still for that bet. I don't know if it's even still on but i haven't lied outright just in case. Pretty exhausting for a pathological liar like me. All in all, I need some distraction. 

I spring up from the couch and race into the kitchen. Food is good for distraction. Food is good for everything.

"Sam, where's the fire?" Spencer calls after me with a snort. I roll my eyes. It's so cute how he thinks he can be funny.

"The only fire there better be in here is the one under that grill," I call back, unintentionally snappy. I hop over the patio furnishings Spencer set up yesterday where the kitchen table used to be and scoop a grease-spattered thigh off the metal grate with my new favorite appliance, tongs. Hehe. 

The barbecue grill is pushed up against the side wall in front of the oven. Why he couldn't have just made chicken IN the oven, I can't say. It sure wouldn't have made any difference to me. Actually, there'd probably be a lot less smoky black char around the edges if he made it like a normal person instead of a guy in denial of the fact he lives in a ninth-floor apartment and not the fucking suburbs. Also a guy in denial that he's not James Bond.

"Sam," Carly whines. "That food is for the buffet we set up for the fundraiser, not you."

I chomp down on the breast hanging from my tongs and nod sympathetically. "I bet it is-ooh, mac salad!" 

"Sam, no!" 

I grin and grab a spoon from the drainboard. "Sam YES!" But fingers snatch my wrist before I can bring the spoon to my mouth. 

"What the-oh." 

I spin to face one Freddie Benson. I nod at his hand. "You wanna keep that?"

He releases me immediately but grabs the spoon from my surprised grip. I start to protest.

"Hey, I was using that-"

"And now you're not," he finishes, tapping the spoon against the disposable tray and recovering it as I slide onto a stool, glaring. He slides it into the fridge and turns back around to face me, finally noticing the grade A glare I'm sending his way. He rolls his eyes.

"It's got egg in it, Sammy, you'll be vomiting for a week." Huh. Well speaking of grade A.

I fix a plate of food that won't kill me and Freddie copies my actions. 

I wrinkle my nose. "Why would someone ruin perfectly good mac salad with egg whites? There's not even any taste in it." 

He shrugs and picks at his chicken. "My mom made it." 

"Why?"

"She hates you."

I nod. "Yeah. That makes sense."

We sit there awkwardly for a hot minute until I make the decision to get my ass out of there before anything else bad happens.

"You know, I'm late for a thing-" I say as I slide off the stool and grab my jacket.

He rolls his eyes. "Sure you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Better not be giving me an attitude. I'm not in the mood. 

He hums and grabs our empty plates, throwing them in the dishwasher. 

"Can I come with you for your "thing"?" He asks, avoiding my snark. Smart boy.

"No." I head for the door before he can ask any more stupid questions but I'm too slow. 

"Why not?" He follows me out of the kitchen and corners me next to the door, head cocking to the side innocently. Bullshit.

"Because I said so, Fredward. Now leave me alone and go annoy some other girl more in your league," I say and before I can think about the hurt look on his face, I quickly slip out the door and tug it shut, trying not to think. Life is easier without thinking.