Maybe she doesn't realize the effect she has on me. I mean, this weird, off-course relationship we've kind of fallen into was just that. An accident. One moment we were best friends, laughing and joking as we watched the ball drop on the other side of the country in New York on New Year's and then she was looking at me with this curious, smirking, whatever look etched into her features and she mumbled the softest, "Should we?" She didn't wait for me to give an answer, which I guess was good since I hadn't planned on giving one, and we both just kind of leaned over and pressed our lips together for about three seconds and then resumed our original recline on our own, separate sides of the couch.

And things probably would have stayed as they've always been if she hadn't decided to tell Freddie. I mean, we were already tied up with prisoners on the run and no way of escaping since my brother was charming some girl with a banjo. But I guess it was kind of my dumb-ass fault since I couldn't stop obsessing over the fact she hadn't just kissed me, but she had kissed Freddie. Freddie. This boy who is supposed to be in love with me and she can barely stand to be in the same room with him for five minutes without hurting him physically and/or mentally. It drove me insane. I mean, if she could kiss Freddie, did that mean our kiss meant nothing? She loves me, I know she does, but if she can also kiss him, was it just another day in the life or did it mean more to her? It wasn't like I could just ask then and there, only apparently she didn't realize my desire to keep our kiss private since she had to go and say, "Don't worry, Carly, you have much softer lips than Freddie. You aren't missing anything."

Freddie, of course, jerked around to stare wide-eyed at her. "How would you know what Carly's lips feel like?" He demanded of us both, wiggling even harder against the duct-tape binding us.

Sam gave a twisted little half-smile, meaning she hadn't really meant to say that, but it kind of forced its way out of her mouth and she has limited self-control. I would have smacked her if my arms weren't forcibly held to my sides. "Woops." She muttered, stealing an uneasy glance at me.

"You and her? Carly and you? You?" Freddie's voice had hiked back up to its pre-puberty pitch.

Neither of us said anything. We kind of mentally agreed to plead the fifth, even though the secret was already out.

"How long was it?" He questioned, his voice so high-pitched it was kind of squeaky. When neither of us responded, his eyebrows pulled together. "Oh, come on! We just agreed to tell each other everything!" Sam and I exchanged guilty looks, as Freddie demanded yet again, "How long was it?"

"I don't know, a couple seconds." I shrug. "Not long."

"And did you like it?" He swallowed hard. He was originally talking mainly to Sam, but the conversation seemed to have swung my way, which doesn't seem fair since Sam is the one kissing everybody.

Luckily, Freddie's mom barged in at that moment, having seen the prisoners running down the street, to check on Freddie and cut us out of the duct-tape.

"Did you like kissing Freddie?" I questioned Sam loftily after Freddie and his mom were safely back across the hallway.

She shrugged, heading over to the refrigerator. "I don't know."

"Did you like kissing me?"

"I don't know."

"Do the two have no differentiation in your brain?" I yelled at her, stomping back into the kitchen and slamming the refrigerator door shut.

She jumped, turning around to face me. "Why are you so upset?"

"Because! Because you didn't tell me, and Freddie? Really? You hate Freddie! But you could kiss him and then you go and kiss me! There should be a difference there!"

"You mean because you're a girl and he's almost male?" She shrugged again. "Felt the same."

"No, because you love me!" I exclaimed. "Because you love me…" My voice deflated as I ended. What had I wanted her to say? We just stared at each other for several minutes before Spencer came back with his banjo and a new girlfriend.

Two days after that, she came over and when she passed by me, she dropped a kiss onto my cheek on her way to the kitchen. I guess that's when we technically started going out. I think. I'm not sure, though. I'm not even sure we're going out now. I mean, I don't even think I'm gay, and she's never told me she is. We never really discussed anything. Much like our friendship, we just kind of fell into a relationship. None of that matters to me, though, because she means so much to me, in a possessive sort of way, that I don't care if we have titled relations to each other, or if either of us is gay. I just want her. All to myself. Always.

Like I was saying in the beginning, I don't think she even realizes the effect she has on me. I didn't even realize it until recently. I pulled out my cell phone, skipped down to Sam's number, and then it clicked. I'm always the one calling Sam. Always the one texting her, always the one dragging her into my everyday life. I mean, I know I'm an important part of her life. She gave up locker 239 in order to be next to me again, even. And yeah, I do often come downstairs to find her lazing on my couch, or wake up to find her sleeping in my bed when she wasn't there the night before. Raiding my refrigerator. Watching my television. But still. If she didn't have some kind of effect on me, why the hell would I keep inviting her over? Or hanging out with her at all? She's violent, obnoxious, rude, badly behaved, no manners whatsoever. For some reason, though, I love all those things about her. I don't know why, but I do. It's like she's my other half or something.

"Hey, Carly," Sam and I are stretched out on the floor, head to head, in the iCarly studio. It's a little after ten at night and Freddie has finally left. "Why don't you ever send me home?"

"What do you mean?" I respond, popping a few skittles in my mouth.

"I mean I've been here three days and you haven't even mentioned me going home." She flips over and her blue eyes linger in my line of sight. "Anyone else would have kicked me out by now."

"You're right. Get out." I say, jabbing her nose.

She grins, lifting up onto her hands, her blonde hair swirling around us like a waterfall. "Let me change your mind." She lowers her lips until they meet mine and holds there for a long couple of minutes. My head fills with blood, my whole body fighting to move, but I hold still. There some part of me that still fears, even though it's been three months, that things are going to end. She lifts back up, dragging her thumb along my top lip and lying back down next to me. "You want to do something tomorrow?"

"Like what?"

She sits up, grabbing my hand and dragging me into sitting across from her. "I don't know, I was just thinking maybe you and me should… never mind." She stands up, stretching her hands into the air as high as possible, showing me a small expanse of skin pale and flat and it makes my hands itch to touch it. "I'm tired. Let's go watch TV."

"Wait," I hop to my feet. "What did you want to do tomorrow?" I frown at her. "And why do you want to go watch TV if you're tired?"

She pauses at the door and shoves her hands deep into her pockets, staring at my face. "Just forget it. I didn't have anything in mind."

"You know what I want to do tomorrow?" I cross over to the door, grabbing her hand and pulling her through to the stairs. "I want to lie around in my pajamas all day, eating whatever, watching movies, and laughing."

She grins. "Alone?"

I punch her arm as we reach the second floor. "No, with you. You want to go to bed now?"

She shakes her head. "No way."

"I thought you said you're tired."

"I am."

"Then let's go to bed."

"Uh-uh."

"You are just like a little kid."

"Would you do this with a little kid?" She pins me into my bedroom door, her fingers lacing with mine, her body pressing into all those sensitive places only she seems to be able to find, her lips gracing my lips. Her tongue tips inside, sketching around my tongue, glancing across the roof of my mouth. She tastes like Sam. Like spirit and sugar and liquid fire. I curl my fingers into the pockets of her hoodie and jolt her closer. This effect she has on me. I think I know what it is. Attraction.

"If I would, then I'd be arrested for molestation." I mutter as soon as her mouth is off mine and that clouded feeling gets out of my head.

She nods absently, trailing kisses down my neck. I shiver under her touch. "You don't want to get arrested for that. Even people in jail have their standards. Child molesters don't fair so well."

"Why are we talking about this?" I exclaim, my voice cracking as she digs her teeth lightly into my neck.

Her face wavers in my blurry vision as she pulls back to look at me. All she says is, "Should we?" in a soft voice. I don't answer. Her lips reconnect with mine, her hand slipping to the small of my back as she opens my bedroom door and walks me inside.

We've done a lot of this in the three months we've "been together". And by this I mean kissing and fooling around. She's almost insatiable. We make out sometimes for like three hours, which is amazing considering Sam can almost never go that long without eating. Not that I'm complaining. I love the feel of any part of her body against mine. But everything we've done has always been with clothes on. I mean, we haven't done "it" yet. She always pulls back, or she picks a bad time and I do, or Spencer comes home, or Freddie shows up, or something. It's always something. I kind of figured, like everything else, it would just happen and we wouldn't talk about it or anything. We'd just fall into it and it would feel right and everything would just keep moving forward. The first time we made out, it was a Tuesday. She was hanging out at my loft, like always, and we were alone since Spencer was hanging out with Sock-o and Freddie had accepted that sometimes Sam and I needed "special alone time". I was sipping a new flavor of smoothie and asked if she wanted to try it. Instead of taking a sip from the cup, she leaned over and kissed me. I'd wanted so desperately for her not to pull away, that I dropped the smoothie on the floor and straddled her lap. We made out for like an hour before Freddie knocked on the door, thinking he'd given us enough time alone.

I can feel her on every inch of my body, even though she's stepped back to pull my shirt over my head. Her eyes scan over my chest, my stomach, soaking in every bit of skin. The smallest smirk slips onto her face before she steps back to me to lick at my collarbone.

"What?" I ask breathlessly, struggling a little with the zipper of her hoodie as I try to force it down.

"What?" She repeats, her fingers dropping to the button on my jeans.

The zipper finally gives and I shove the hoodie off and reach for the bottom of her shirt. "You smiled."

"I can't be happy?"

"It wasn't that kind of smile."

She holds me to her, tracing her fingers down my spine. "Trust me, it was that kind of smile."

She eases me back onto my bed, sitting back on her heels to tug my jeans off. Clothes are such a nuisance. There's that moment, between when she finally get my jeans off, and her eyes meet mine, and when she crawls up the bed to lie on top of me. That moment when our eyes connect and something clicks, and I shudder under her fingers, and we both know something just happened, something just passed through both of us that neither can explain. And damn, could I love this girl any more? I guess that's the point of everything, isn't it?

"Hey, Sam," I hiss into her shoulder half an hour later as her fingers twists something deep and intense inside me, pleasure flashing in little explosions of light behind my eyes.

"Yeah, cupcake?" Her voice is strained, her lips barely moving as she digs her teeth into the bottom one.

"I love you. So much." I force out, gasping.

She nods against my neck. "Yeah, me too. I love you."

I don't really need definitions or labels or anything. She can call herself my best friend, my girlfriend, my whatever. As long as she stays with me, and me only, everything will be okay. I will be okay.