iAsk Why Not


Author's Note 1: Personally, I think that this chapter is too long. The part that I was initially interested in writing was the part that we didn't see on TV---Freddie watching iCarly before Sam comes to see him. Part of me actually thought of stopping there because the part beyond that has been done to death and I felt like I had to describe all of it if I did it at all. However, there were a few things I wanted to get at and thought that I couldn't really illustrate without getting into the thick of the episode. So without further ado . . . Read & Review.

3. Why Not?

Five minutes to iCarly, and for the first time, I'm not there in the studio. I'm sitting on the fire escape of my apartment, thinking about what happened last show.

Nonetheless, my laptop is with me. Fortunately, we've got a good WiFi signal and I can be on the internet out here. As upset as I am, I wouldn't miss iCarly for the world. Carly is a good friend and even if I'm not up to being there, I still want to support her.

Then there's the other half of iCarly. The half that hasn't come to check on me after school or apologized in any way. In fact, it's the longest that Sam and I haven't spoken since we started doing iCarly together. Sure, she gives me a lot of grief, but I've always assumed that she cared about me. Now I'm starting to question that. The thought makes me upset . . . Probably more than it should.

Part of me is hurt, part of me is angry, and a very small part of me stupidly wants to see her. Can she really go on with the show as if nothing happened?

I turn on my computer and involuntarily count down in my head. In 5, 4, 3, 2 . . .

"I'm Sam," she says, popping onto my screen. "And I'm Carly," Carly says.

They start their opening monologue and the anger inside me starts to rise. How can she be so okay after what she's done?! She really doesn't give a damn.

But suddenly, she stops it. Stops the upcoming meatball war and faces the camera. And suddenly she's saying them. The things that I wanted her to say to me and she's saying them straight into the camera. That she was wrong; that telling the world I had never kissed anyone was a mistake.

And even more surprising is that she's angry. And she's yelling at our viewers about how they've been treating me like I wish that I could have done my self.

Then she does something really brave. She lies and tells people that she's never kissed anyone either. Even after seeing what happened to me, she takes it all on herself . . .

I get a lump in my throat as I look at it. I don't really know why. It's not like she's doing something above and beyond the call. She was the one who put me in this spot in the first place. But still . . .

And then all the anger is gone. I'm happy and sad all at once and I don't even know what to think anymore.

Carly stops the show and a man with shrimp up his nose appears on screen. I close my computer and put on some music. I listen to a few tracks and am trying to figure out what to make of all this when I hear a knock at the door.

It's her. Sam. Knocking. It's the first time that I've seen her in a week. I give her a small smile and wave her in.

"What's up?" she asks, softly.

"Nothing," I say.

I get up to turn off the music and she offers me a meatball from her pockets.

It's odd and a little bit puzzling. When I decline it she throws it off the fire escape. Sam Puckett is an odd girl.

"That was really brave . . . What you said," I admit.

"You heard?" she asks.

"You didn't think I'd miss iCarly," I smile at her.

She smiles back and then apologizes to me.

"I'm sorry," she says, "about telling people you never kissed anyone."

I give her a look of acknowledgement. I'm sorry about that one too but I know that I've kind of forgiven her now.

"And I about putting blue cheese dressing in your shampoo bottle . . ."

I can't help smiling slightly as I remember that.

"And about sending your cellphone to Cambodia . . ."

And I'm actually laughing at this point although that wasn't funny at the time.

"Everything, okay?"

"So this means that you're not going to mess with me anymore?" I say skeptically. Somehow I have a hard time believing that. But somehow I'm not sure I want her to stop. How messed up is that?

"No, I'm still going to mess with you," she says. "I'm just going to apologize every few years so that I can start fresh again."

I realize that I've missed her this week.

"Good," I say.

"Good?" she questions surprised.

"Yeah," I say. "I'd be too weird if you didn't make my life miserable all the time."

Our relationship is totally different than my relationship with Carly but I realize that she does play a huge role in my life . . . And in her own way, she's special to me too.

"But, you know, maybe you could pull back just a little bit?" I ask.

"I don't think so," she says quickly.

"Yeah, I didn't either."

"It's so dumb," she says, and I give her a puzzled look.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, how people get all freaked out over their first kiss. It's stupid," she rolls her eyes.

And I'm confused. "So you weren't lying," I say. "You really never kissed anyone."

It's hard to believe. Sam is not a bad looking girl.

"Nope," she say, and I don't know what to think.

"Sometimes I just wish I could get it out of the way."

"Yeah, I know, me too," I say.

"Right?" she says. "You know, just so I can stop worrying about it."

"Yeah," I agree.

And then something strange pops into my mind. Here's this girl. This important person in my life telling me that she wants to be kissed. She doesn't pity me and she's not pretending to like me. And I think to myself, why not? Then I think, because she would kill me if I tried it and I laugh.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing, it's—"

"Tell, me," she demands. For some reason she really wants to know.

"No, it's dumb," I shrug it off.

"Say it!" she says impatiently.

"Okay," I say hesitantly, "I was just going to say—"

"That we should kiss?" she interrupts.

And I'm taken aback. Not because it wasn't what I was going to say. It was. I'm more surprised by the tone that she said it in. It doesn't sound totally rejecting of the idea. Still, I hope that she doesn't break my arm for thinking it.

"You're going to break my arm now, right?" I say nervously. For some reason I'm finding it hard to breathe and it's not because she looks like she's going to break my arm. Maybe it's because she doesn't.

"No," she says calmly.

And once again I consider kissing her, and I think to myself, why not?

"Well, should we?" I ask nervously, expecting her to shoot me down at any moment. "Just so both of us can get it over with?"

"Hmm," she says. "Just to get it over with?"

"Just to get it over with," I confirm.

"And you swear we go right back to hating each other as soon as it's over?"

"Oh, totally," I agree quickly. "And we never tell anyone?"

"Never," she says, almost desperately.

We look at each other and I think, is this a good idea?

"Well, lean," she commands.

Nervously, I consider it. Then I look at her again and think that she is objectively attractive. The question, why not, comes up yet again.

And suddenly I decide to do it. I lean in and I'm kissing her. Very softly, but also with some passion.

It's quick. I feel her kissing back and then I pull back, not wanting to make it last longer than she wants.

Huh, I think to myself, that's kissing. I enjoyed it and that it was with her and I don't know what to make of that.

Carly had described her first kiss as "just an ordinary little kiss." I don't know what an ordinary little kiss feels like, but I know that I wouldn't use that term to describe what we had done.

"Well, that was, um . . ."

"Nice?" she says stiffly.

"Yeah, nice, uh . . ." But that doesn't quite fit what it was either.

"Good work?" she says awkwardly.

"Thank you, you to," I agree quickly.

She turns to leave without saying anything and it's awkward. A funny thought pops into my head.

"Hey," I say, starting to smile. She turns around and gives me a look as if to say, what?

"I hate you," I smirk, playfully. She laughs a little bit.

"Hate you too," she says, and walks away and I watch her go.

Neither of us mean it, but that's not really a change. Neither of us meant it before we kissed.

Until I said it, Sam had looked extremely awkward though—flustered kind of. I realize that part of me had enjoyed unnerving her like that and not because it was some sort of victory . . .

But that's not something that I care to think about just now. Why not? Somehow I have a vague sense that I'm just not ready for this yet. I put the whole thing out of my mind and go back to listening to my music.


Author's Note 2: Guys, the song the lyrics that were playing as Sam left literally said "I keep running away. Even from the good things." Foreshadowing, much?