Author's Note: God help me, I've written another fan fiction. Read & Review!


We don't really hang out without either Carly or the idea of Carly hovering in the background as we shoot segments for the website. And yet, some how, I'm not surprised when she shows up at my door demanding food. Carly and Spencer are in Yakima at the time celebrating their grandparents' wedding anniversary.

"There's no food at home," she says, coming in without knocking. "So cough it up, Fredward." And as flippant as she is about it, I know that she's telling the truth. She literally has no one else to feed her. Sure, there are other kids at school she hangs out with, but most of them are people that she's met in detention. That leaves me. Her back up meal plan.

She complains about the lima loaf and grudging admits that the kerrab cookies are "almost as good as the dumpster donuts [she] ate for lunch." But despite her complaints she comes back the next evening, and again, I'm not surprised.


I'm also not surprised when she calls me after a date gone horrible wrong. Sure, Carly is in town this time, but I have one thing that Carly doesn't: access to a car to pick her up in. Or maybe it's that Carly has one thing that I don't: a social life. She's out with her disgustingly likable new boyfriend and I'm just sitting at home when Sam calls. Sam knows that and I know she knows it. Therefore, I'm not surprised.


I am surprised by the look of things when I get there. She's in front of a nightclub where her skeezy date apparently had apparently taken her. Her shirt is ripped and there is a red mark on her upper arm as if someone has grabbed her. Although she's sitting calmly on the curb, I can tell that she has been crying. Anger wells up in my throat when see her and I have the urge to go look for the guy and belt him.

"Shut it, Fredward," she says catching my look. "You should see the other guy." Then she smirks slightly to herself and I remember that Sam can take care of herself. I laugh only half-heartedly though, wishing that she hadn't had to, as I drape my coat around her shoulders.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand," she says, getting into the car, and I get back into the driver's seat. Even though she's trying to come across like she's fine, I can tell that she hasn't entirely calmed down yet. We don't talk about what happened, but neither do I take her directly home. Instead, I buy her a burger and we sit for a couple hours until I can tell that she's all right.


I'm sadly not surprised when it happens again. She tends to be exclusively attracted to losers. Either that or she secretly doesn't value herself enough to pursue anyone else. This time there are no damages to her person but she still looks upset. This time I don't offer to buy her food. I acquiesce to her demands for it. I'm not surprised.


It happens several times actually, and sort of becomes our thing. She dates a loser. Things go down the drain. I get a frantic phone call and rush out to pick her up. We stop at Shaky Bake or President Burgers and a couple hours later I drop her home. One time I briefly worry that I'm rewarding her questionable dating behavior with the food, but I shove that thought out of my head once I see her. I'm glad to be rewarding her calling me and doing what she has to make it home safe. Each time she seems more and more calm when I arrive and perks up more quickly as we eat. I tell myself it's the food. The power of positive reinforcement. I'm not really that surprised to find that we usually end up talking and laughing.


And I'm not surprised when my new girlfriend complains about it. I have to admit that Megan's got a valid point. I think anyone would be upset if their new s.o. left a date to pick up a distraught friend two Saturdays in one month. I know that I would be. But what am I supposed to do, leave her there? Not pick up one of my best friends from the side of the road? Not buy her food to calm her nerves? Apparently. The third time it happens I get an ultimatum. And that's the end of my relationship with Megan. Sam apologizes to me about it but infuriatingly manages to come off as
completely unremorseful. Maybe she is though because there's no emergency pick up required for the next few weeks. Just when I almost think that her dating habits have changed, it happens again. And I'm really not surprised.


And although I should be, I'm surprisingly not surprised when I see her alleged date for the evening making out with someone else. A guy someone else. Or when she calls me later that night claiming that he hit on another girl and tried to pressure her into having a threesome. Or when she demands to be picked up and taken to a restaurant ASAP.


I don't get out of the car and comfort her as usual that night. Instead, I wordlessly approach her, my eyes locked on hers. She starts to nervously mumble about what a horrible date it was, but without taking my eyes off hers, I skeptically raise an eyebrow. She trails off, realizing that I'm not buying it this time . . . And, although it catches her off guard for a second, I don't think that either of us are that surprised when we find ourselves kissing by the side of the road.

"Took you long enough," she smirks when we finally break apart.

"Just out of curiosity," I ask, laughing a little and shaking my head, "how many times did you really have a bad date?"

"Just twice," she smirks, and I have to admit that I'm a little surprised.

"You didn't really think that I was the damsel-in-distress type, did you?" she asks.

"I guess I just thought you liked to date losers," I laugh.

"I do," she grins, flicking my forehead with her index finger.

And with that she gets into the car and demands to be taken to Shaky Bake.