"So, let me get this straight. You like might have made out with Sam in the foyer, but it's like not a big deal."

I grinned at him, but only because an older man with a baritone voice trying to speak like a valley girl is incredibly amusing. "Something like that."

Dr. Bell studied me with a small smirk on his face. "And this is the same woman that you are no longer in love with?"

I frowned at him. "You got a point, punk?"

"Punk?" He repeated. "No, no point. I'm just making connections."

"Right… well, than Freddie showed up and everything was ruined." I said, moving right along with my story.

"Freddie?"

"I told you about him. He was the technical producer for iCarly? He finally got over being in love with me a couple years ago and got married?" I explained in question form.

"Right." Dr. Bell nodded in that therapist way that always makes me want to roll my eyes.

"Well, I forgot he was coming over that night. My whole schedule has kind of been thrown out the window since Sam moved in. But Freddie always comes over once a month so we can catch up and stay involved in each other's lives." I got bored with speaking, so I licked my lips and looked out the window. Rain was just beginning to fall.

"So he walked in on the two of you?" Bell encouraged.

"What? No." I gave him a look that clearly said 'you dirty old man, you.' "He knocked on the door and startled us back into reality."

"So what's the problem?"

"What?"

"You said there was a problem when you walked in. I didn't even have to coerce you into talking this time."

"Oh, right. He kind of guessed that we were… in a compromising position when he'd knocked."

"He guessed?"

"He was just kidding. And Sam and I laughed it off so he doesn't know."

"Okay. So where's the problem?"

"I'm getting to it!" I snapped. "I haven't talked to Sam at all since."

"What?" His eyes widened in surprise. "This is such a huge problem! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be seeking someone higher up?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Sarcasm isn't an attractive quality in a therapist."

"Right." He says that a lot. "You've been avoiding Sam?"

"Not on purpose! Well, not entirely. It just worked out that Freddie didn't leave until late last night, I went right to bed after he left, and I missed her on my way to work this morning." I defended, snuggling back into the dark green couch I was stretched across.

"I'm going to suggest something that I never suggest and I should probably have my license taken away for suggesting." Bell said in an ominous voice.

"Yay, bad stuff. This is exciting, isn't it? What shall I do?"

He ignored my ghoulish voice. "I think you should continue your physical relationship with Sam."

"What?!"

"Normally I wouldn't suggest sex as a solution to almost anything, but it seems to be an area where you meet eye to eye. Eight years ago, both of you walked away feeling scared and unsure about what you were feeling. Having the physical relationship now means one, you get to find out what you didn't eight years ago, and two, you get to work through some of those issues without actually talking." He took a swig from a water bottle before fixating his watery eyes on me.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to like sleep with Sam, which like seems like it would make our relationship like more complicated, because it will somehow like fix everything?" I said in my valley girl voice, which is a lot better than his if you consider the factors. Or maybe his is better?

He shrugged. "Something like that. Experience what you've denied yourselves and each other. It breaks down a lot of walls. At least, I think it will."

"That is the worst advice you've ever given me!" I exclaimed.

"Yes."

"I'll take it!"

Things were remarkably relaxing when the band was finally back together. Sam and Freddie had even managed to be nice to each other. But Sam seems to be nice to everyone now. Its like the last eight years have made her scared of fault. And Freddie definitely took notice of that. He looked like he wanted to drag me off to the bathroom and whisper about her all night, but instead said he'd call me later and we'd talk. Sam wasn't surprised by his reaction. I wonder why that is…?

I'm always glad to go see my therapist and get things out of my head, but sometimes going brings up more questions than answers. And strange advice from a middle-aged man.

Goal for tonight: fuck Sam.

What kind of therapist gives that kind of direction?

I felt incredibly indecisive, anyway, so how could I make a huge decision like that? Although, I seem to keep attacking her with my mouth and there isn't really a thought process behind that. Or maybe its my only thought process. She seems to be the only thing on my brain lately. And that kind of scares me. Generally, I let my focus drift around like a child wandering a new place, even though I've lived here my whole life, and that seems to work for me. Focusing on Sam? No. Bad. Wrong. Shouldn't be happening. But it is. And I can't stop. I look at her and suddenly I'm a teenager again and it's Christmas Eve and I'm thinking about kissing her but I don't. Only now, all those feelings are making me act when I shouldn't be.

She was sitting on the floor in the foyer with her legs hugged tightly to her chest when I arrived home. Her eyes were glued to her fingertips and her lips were white from being pressed together harshly for an extended period of time.

"Hi," I mumbled, slipping off my coat and setting my keys down.

"Hey," She responded, her lips stretching out to form the word completely.

"What you doing in here?" I asked, sliding down the wall to sit next to her.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like we should talk, but I don't know what to say."

"Sam…"

"I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know what we're doing!" She exploded, startling me, and suddenly she was on her feet, throwing her arms up in confusion.

I nodded, my heartbeat speeding up. "Well…"

But she didn't seem to be in the mood to let me speak, and raced on. "One moment, you are telling me things should go back to normal and let's forget about the kiss! But what do you do then? The last thing you should be doing!"

"I can stop kissing you." I felt strangely numb at my own words. For some reason, it felt less natural and took more effort not to kiss her than to keep going.

"That's the problem!" She yelled at the ceiling. "I don't want you to!"

I watched her in awe as she stormed into the living and dropped down onto the couch. "What?"

"I don't want you to stop." She muttered.

My arms were shaky as I scaled the wall to get back to my feet and trailed over to the couch. "So what's the problem?"

"That is the problem."

I leaned back into the armrest so I could face her. "I see."

She chuckled softly; a girlish giggling that seriously surprised me. I mean, Sam? Giggling? Come on. "You always did keep my life interesting. I don't know why I'm so surprised."

"What?" I responded, shocked. "I'm the one that brought your life back to earth. Without me, you were stealing from people and vandalizing and breaking into places and who knows what else!"

She chuckled again at my outburst. "Those were just to fill the time when I wasn't with you. You were my world growing up."

She looked at me then, her eyes filled with honesty and innocence. I tried several times to say something back, but I just blinked at her while my mouth opened and closed. "What?"

"You already knew you were." She rolled her eyes, the color dulling back to what it has been lately. "What kind of life did I have aside from you? Failing out of school, breaking the law, and what? My mom wasn't all there and I haven't seen my dad in twenty years."

I turned in my seat so I could lay back with my head in her lap. "It only seems like that because I showed up right after your dad left."

She shook her head. "Nope. He wasn't around much anyway. You showing up just proved to me that there are truly beautiful people in this world. That's why I wanted to spend all of my time with you."

I blushed, something I haven't done in years. When did Sam become so honest? "I am not a beautiful person. Trust me."

"The Carly I know is." She muttered, staring down at me.

She kissed me then, her lips warm and supple against mine. I realized, shortly after, that it was the first time she had been the one to kiss me since college. And that was a good feeling. The kiss was short though, ending abruptly only moments later.

I sat up, sighing. "I'm not that Carly anymore."

"I know." She shrugged. "I don't expect you to be. But it doesn't make me want you any less."

I don't remember turning around or getting up, or using my muscles at all, but suddenly I was sitting on her lap with my tongue in her mouth. And I couldn't even feel bad about it. I have a lot of regrets in my life, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to regret this. Somehow, the kiss felt like a lie. It wasn't like I was actually lying, but I might as well have been. She'd been sweet and honest and what was I doing? Following my therapist's advice. Finding out what I didn't eight years ago. I could've stopped. Could've told her it wasn't right and I couldn't do this to her.

But I didn't.

I kissed her with all the passion I had, and considering I've been pining after her a good portion of my life, it was quite a bit. I knew I was trying to pour the truth into her through my tongue and lips and I was hoping she got the message. Wait, that's a lie too. I needed to know. I needed to feel her, to be with her, to discover. And she was letting me. Telling her the honest to god truth now would just ruin this. Let's face it, the truth it overrated.

Her fingers burned the skin of my back as they slid up under my shirt. The ridiculous thing about it is all I could think about was how there are so many nerve-endings in your fingers and that's why paper-cuts hurt so much.

My eyes were open and that was weird because normally I'm a closed-eyes kisser. But with her, I needed to see her expression and feel what she was feeling and experience it all. Her long eyelashes were curled up at the ends and just a shade or two darker than her hair. Her fair skin was flushed.

I traced a path down her neck with my lips, stopping to nip at the pulse in her neck and the sharp edge of her collarbone. She smelled like shampoo and some perfume that I couldn't place. Since when does she wear perfume? It didn't matter. Before that thought could even finish forming, I had the top buttons of her shirt undone. She was still long and lanky, but now with some feminine curves that were swelling things low in my abdomen. My hands were everywhere, needing to feel everything and touch and taste and try and just experience. My freaking therapist was right, and I will never admit that to him, fucking Sam was exactly what should be on the agenda.

Just when I was about to unhook her bra and reveal a bit more for my hungry eyes, her fingers closed around my wrists to stop me.

"Well?" I had meant to say what's up, or what's wrong, but my head wasn't working properly… maybe it never really is.

"I just wanted to stop you before I forget, Spencer called." She informed.

Really? REALLY?! She was stopping me to talk about missed phone calls? "Great." I mumbled, bending to kiss her, but once again, halted.

"He wanted to make sure we were still coming for dinner tomorrow." She nibbled her bottom lip as she waited for me to respond, but all I wanted to do was replace her teeth with mine.

"Yeah, sure. Of course." I said hurriedly.

"You never told me we were having dinner with Spencer."

I rolled my eyes, remembering why I don't usually go for girls. They like to talk about 'important stuff.' "Oh. Sorry. We're having dinner with Spencer tomorrow night." Honestly, I had forgotten it as soon as I had recorded it in my cell phone.

"I haven't seen him in so long."

"He still looks the same."

"So? That doesn't make him the same person! He's married with children now."

I nodded. "Yeah, he's a real great dad, too."

"Wait," She stopped me for the zillionth time from kissing her.

"What?!"

"I'm just trying to communicate with you for a minute."

"We are communicating."

"With words."

"I don't mind if you talk dirty to me." I flashed her my brightest smile.

She grinned back. "Different kind of words."

"Well maybe you should switch."

She laughed, finally letting me kiss her again.

"See? Communicating through body language is so much better."