AN: Okay, I collect fortune cookies. Why? I'm oddly superstitious for a logically minded person. Oh, the layers. How they annoy me so! I've FINALLY gotten inspiration to write. I think it has something to do with all the Books on Tape I've been listening too.

"Many possibilities are open to you - work a little harder." I smile over at Freddie and roll my eyes. "Learn Chinese - Today: Jin tian. Lucky numbers: 20, 38, 24, 34, 10, 37."

He shoots me a half smile and returns my eye roll. "I can't believe you collect fortune cookie notes, Sam."

"Yeah, well," I say with a sigh. "I'm not all two dimensional."

He pokes me in the arm with the straw from his smoothie. "Look-a there. You really are 3D."

I punch him in the arm but not one of my usual brutal punches. We've built a buddy-buddy mood and for some unknown reason, I want to keep it.

"I didn't mean it literally, Fredward," I say, faking a glare at him. "I meant personality wise."

"I know. I was just teasing." He looks me in the eye, returning my fake glare. "You, of all people should know what that's like."

"You don't think I'm weird, right? For collecting fortune cookies?"

He pauses for a second; I guess he's trying to adjust to the serious turn in the conversation. "It depends. Why do you collect them?"

"They give me hope. They seem to fit what's going on in my life. Either that, or they make me laugh."

"Why don't you listen to them, then?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean? I do listen to them."

"No offense, Sam, but you haven't really been given any new possibilities, and even if you have you really haven't tried at all, let alone harder."

I pause for a second, a little pit opening up in my chest. Just because someone says 'no offense', doesn't mean no offense was taken. "I got that one a week before we thought of iCarly, and if you haven't noticed I've worked harder on that than I have anything."

"Oh, makes sense." He shoots me an apologetic half smile. "Sorry about that."

"No worries."

Freddie nudges his arm against mine. "Read the rest of them."

I smile and pull out the next one from the necklace box I keep it in. "Go for it. You never know whom you might run into. Learn Chinese: In the past: ye chean. Lucky numbers: 18, 17, 2, 26, 2, 43."

"When'd you get that one?" He asks.

"Two hours before Rickie asked me out." I frown at the fortune cookie.

"I guess that one kinda lied."

"No, this one worked so well it's scary," I say, still looking at the rectangular note in my hand.

"But Rickie sucked. I hated - we hated him. He was horrible to you. God, Sam, he treated you like property. Not even property he cared about."

"I know." I finally look up at him and smile. "He was crap, but I gained a friend from it."

"Don't tell me you're not still friends with him."

"No! Of course not!" I say, trying to defuse his glare, "I'm not talking about Rickie. I haven't even thought about being friends with the creepo."

"Then who?"

"Well…" I fidget a little awkwardly, trying to find a way to say it without sounding like a complete cheese puff. "There was this guy that I was sort of acquainted with before I met Rickie, and he pretty much saved me from disaster. I'm glad I ran into him."

"Not to sound all 'you're so vain is this song about me,' but do you mean me?"

I smile, my eyes hitting the ceiling and then coming back down to meet his gaze. "Yes, Freddie. I mean you."

"Read another one," he says, gesturing with his head towards my fortunes.

"The smart thing to do is to begin trusting your intuitions. Lucky numbers: 2, 3, 9, 14, 18, 32."

"When did you get that one?"

"During a date with Jonah," I say, looking away from him again. "I had a feeling he wasn't good news."

"Hmm. There's another boyfriend of yours I hated."

I laugh, "Was there one you actually liked?"

He feigns a contemplative face and shakes his head no. "I can't think of any. You should really try dating nicer guys."

I scoff a little more bitterly than I mean to. "Whatever, can I move on?"

"That was weird; what's wrong with nice guys?"

"Nothing," I say. "Can I please move on?"

He crosses his arms and tilts his head at me, his jaw set. "Not until you tell what you have against dating nice guys."

I sigh, exasperated, and snap. "I don't have anything against nice guys. It's the guyswho don't like me."

His expression softens and I see him fidget just as I had done a few minutes ago. "Oh, I- um. You can continue now. I-if you want."

"Cookie said: 'You really crack me up.' Learn Chinese- A moment: yi hui er. Lucky Numbers: 50, 1, 51, 30, 56, 7."

Freddie laughs and I join him. "When'd you get that one?"

"When you and I bought Carly Chinese takeout for her sweet 16 bed rest party."

"Oh yeah, cause she got the flu."

"I still think Carly should have gotten the funny one, though."

"That's not under your control. I guess. Read another one."

"Fine Mr. Bossy."

"Says the Mrs. of all bossy people ever."

I scrunch my nose in fake abhorrence, "Eww, that would mean we're married."

Either I'm crazy, or I could swear that he's blushing right now.

"Just get on with it, Sam."

"A judgment will rule in your favor. Lucky Numbers: 48, 9, 13, 24, 27, 1."

"When'd you get this one?"

I think for a minute, trying to place together the words I need to tell this story. "I got this one two weeks before our tenth grade finals."

He tilts his head to the side in surprise and shoots me a quizzically mocking frown. "Don't tell me that a fortune cookie made you think you'd pass."

I return his sarcastic expression with an irritated one of my own. I decide to veer around his statement. "Can I continue now?"

Freddie laughs and shakes his head, his eyes laughing at mine. "You do! That's so lame!"

"Shut up, skunkbag."

Freddie lifts up his hands in defense. "Sorry, sorry. Keep going."

I clear my throat and look down at the case sitting beside me. "It's your attitude not your aptitude that determines your altitude. Learn Chinese: Beef- niu rou. Lucky Numbers: 47, 28, 34, 48, 26, 50."

"That… rhymes. A lot. Well, to death actually."

"Yeah. I got this one right before Mr. Wrong proposed to my mom."

Freddie eyes me sadly. "That explains why you never said anything to her. About how creepy he was."

I shrug off a sudden urge to cry. "It wouldn't have mattered; she'd of married him anyway." I turn away from him, pretending to stretch, and blink hard. I face him again with a glued on smile. "That one makes me want beef."

"I'm sorry she chose him," Freddie says with a low voice, "you didn't deserve that. She's your mom; she never should have left you…"

"It's okay," I interrupt, "It wasn't like I was the easiest person to live with."

"Hey, you're easier to live with than you think," he says, draping an arm across my shoulder and pulling me closer to him. "I mean, you've been living with me and mom for about a year now, and neither of us is dead."

"I'll be out as soon as we graduate," I say, smiling over at him.

"Sam, stop that," Freddie barks over at me, an irritated order in his tone. "You keep acting like you're an imposition. You're my friend."

"I know," I sigh, "It's just weird. I mean, your mom hates me. Or she did when my mom ran off with Mr. Wrong and left me homeless. I still feel like the pain that imposed on her family."

"Did I ever thank you for that?" His playful expression returns, and my tense shoulders ease a bit. "For imposing, I mean."

"Wait. Huh? Isn't imposing a bad thing?"

"Please! Have you met my mom?"

I smirk at Freddie and shrug his arm off of my shoulder. "Can I move on now?"

"Oh, yeah." Freddie leans over away from me and slaps a hand to his forehead. "I almost forgot about that."

"No harm in putting all your eggs in one basket- just watch it closely. Lucky Numbers: 8, 17, 27, 37, 40, 42."

Freddie nods and scratches his neck, scooting even further away from me. "Um, wouldn't this only apply if you had eggs to put in a basket?"

A little pinch tugs at my throat and I glare daggers at my mamma's boy roommate. "I have eggs!"

"Sam, you eat eggs. Metaphorically, you have no eggs at all."

I tighten my grip on my box and shift my blurring glare from Freddie to my hands. "Everyone has eggs. Not everyone has baskets. You and Carly do. You two have twelve between you."

"Aren't eggs talents?"

"No, baskets are talents. Eggs are opportunities."

Freddie stops and hutches his shoulders back, his eyebrows knitted together. "Would opportunistic eggs be in the white carton or the yellow carton?"

I shake my head and move my gaze back to my hands. "I got this during my brother's twenty-third birthday party. He was so excited about his band taking off, and his music."

"What's that have to do with your eggs?"

"I've always been good at one thing. I've tried so much other crap, but nothing's as good as this."

I look at Freddie from the corner of my eye, and I notice him beaming at me. "Your photography, right?"

"Yeah, it's my egg."

"I guess you do have an egg, and a pretty darn good one."

I lift my shoulders a bit and smile; Freddie returns my smile and nods his head toward my fortunes.

"Okay, the next one says…" I open the box with an elongated pause. You know, for dramatic effect. "Show your true face to the people who really matter. Lucky Numbers: 12, 44, 8, 13, 2, 9."

"That sounds like a cookie you'd get out of a Chinese joint from a Jackie Chan movie," Freddie says, with a raised brow.

I giggle a bit and return his uprisen brow.

"It's very paranoid, isn't it?"

"No," I say, "It's realistic. "

"When'd you get it?" he asks.

"Remember that guy I dated in middle school for about three weeks? The blonde guy who I thought would like me better if I were girlier?"

"Yeah," Freddie scoffs, a little hint of something huffy in his voice.

"I got it on our second date. I didn't really get what it meant until he cheated on me."

"Sheesh, Sam. Why don't you ever date guys who don't suck?"

"Because they don't make those."

Freddie blinks at me, annoyed. He shoots me an odd look; some sort of budding frustration with mingled in sadness. "Who's close enough to show your face to?"

"Carly," I say without thinking, "and you."

He smiles, the frustration gone but the sadness remaining the same. "I like your real face better. It scares me less."

I glare at him again and open my box for the next fortune. "Hope is the most precious treasure to a person. Lucky Numbers: 10, 19, 7, 27, 1, 55."

"I like this one."

"Me too. I got it three days before my dad died," I say blandly, trying to keep the monotone up and the pinching in my throat as low as possible.

Freddie puts his arm back around my shoulder and pulls me to him again. He doesn't say anything. Which helps here more than anything he could say would.

"Fredward, I have forty-some of these things, and I have to head off to work in twenty minutes, so maybe we should…"

"Ten more! Come on, it won't take long," he whines.

"Four more," I sort of relent.

"Eight more."

"Five, and that's my final offer!"

He smiles and jumps a little from the spot he's been sitting the past hour or so. "Here, I'll read the last six I've gotten." I open the box, and sort out the six. "There is a gradual improvement. Feelings are sweet and tender. Lucky Numbers: 21, 24, 26, 34, 38, 43."

"Looks like you're in for something romantic, so says your Oriental dessert. Either that or a puppy."

I slap him on the arm and smirk over at him. "You think that one's sappy? Try this one," I laugh, "Your blessing is being safe and sound for your whole lifetime. Lucky Numbers: 4, 12, 14, 27, 30, 34."

"Who writes this crap?"

I shrug at this and place the last fortune in my lap with the rest of them. "That's not even the cheesiest one."

"Really?" he snorts, "It gets worse than tender feelings forever and ever?"

"Love is on its way. Lucky Numbers: 4, 40, 14, 52, 28, 30." I smile over at him amused, just to find him smiling more to himself than to me, his eyes on his hands and a little rose tinted in his cheeks.

"That's… what Disney movies are made of."

"Oh no," I say louder and faster than necessary. "Your heart is your greatest asset. Lucky Numbers: 41, 46, 27, 44, 30, 19. Nothing is more Disney than this."

"Yeah, that wins. Hands down. When'd you get those?"

"Oh, in the past few weeks," I reply, shrugging off his widening eyes.

"You've been out for Chinese five times in the past few weeks?"

"What? I like the chicken, and everything else on the buffet."

Freddie pauses in his mocking and something in his posture tenses. "H-Have any of these come true? Like the rest of them?"

I frown at the little papers in my lap, "No. They probably won't either."

"Why's that?"

"Who I find myself in like with, doesn't like me back."

Freddie pauses, the hint of frustrated sadness returning to his gaze. "You like someone. Of course you do. Have you tried showing him how you feel?"

"He wouldn't go for a girl like me," I say, my cheeks taking on the same rose as his. "He's out of my league."

"How so?"

"For one: he's smart. For two: he likes prettier brunettes, and for three: he thinks I hate him."

"Why does he think you hate him?" Freddie asks, honestly taken aback that someone may mistake my lovely abusive nature for contempt.

I answer without thinking, "Because I'm horrible to you."

Freddie's head shoots up faster than I can blink, his eyes growing wide - and don't seem to be stopping anytime soon.

I struggle with the last cookie in my hand, trying to defuse my slip of tongue. "Could I get some directions to your heart? Lucky Numbers: 22, 11, 40, 6, 15, 1."

"Sam?"

I stand up from the bed, each note falling to the floor. I try to find something to say that makes this sound less like me admitting my feelings for him to him. Stupid words, always picking up my foot and sticking it in my mouth.

"Sam!" Freddie snaps, getting my attention. "Did you just say that you like me?"

I swallow hard and walk closer to the door.

"Sam." I jump, hearing Freddie oddly close behind me. Towering overhead. When did he get so freaking tall? I decide to face this. To smile and nod as he shoots me down. Then, I'll go to work and take an extra night shift. After work, I'll come back here and pack everything I own and move to Canada and raise moose like my children.

"Freddie, I…" I pause, re-wording my speech. "I didn't mean to say that."

I notice his shoulders hitch a bit at this. "So you're not in like with me?"

"No, I- I am," I say, unable to keep gravity from pulling my eyes towards the carpet.

"You know," he says as I watch his feet come closer to me, "this is the part in the movie where I say something spectacular, we kiss, a Hillary Duff song plays and maybe the screen fades out to black. Honestly, I would be able to… but I'm not good at that kind of thing. So maybe I could just tell you that I'm in like with you, too. Or I could just…"

He closes in on my face, and clumsily kisses me senseless. I breathe him in for a moment, before realizing two things.

One being I'm late for work, and the other being the very reason I'm standing here playing mouth hockey with a weirdly attractive computer geek, lying right under our feet.

Thank you Seattle Chinese buffets, eat-ins and take-outs.

"Hmm." I whisper breaking away from our kiss, "I'm hungry."

"Surprising." He teases, placing his forehead to mine. "How about Chinese?"

"That's perfect. I want to go to Wang's!"

He manages an odd stare from this angle, "Why? That place is kinda bad."

"They have really good chocolate mousse."