Set after iKiss. Hope ya like it!

One

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"What's your problem?" I heard Carly's voice coming from behind me. We were exiting Mr. Kacklestein's English classroom, the boringest teacher on planet earth. And of course, on a Monday morning, he had to assign a three page essay on—wait, what was it on again? Oh well, forget it. It was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

I turned my head round and looked obviously at my best friend. "Did you hear Mr. Kacklestein? He's making us write something!" I exclaimed.

Carly smiled calmly. I never understood why she was so calm. "It's just one of those persuasive essays. We've done a bunch of those in class."

I stopped in my tracks and stared at her, confused. She glanced at me and sighed with realization. "Oh, that's right. You were sleeping," she said practically.

I grinned at her and shrugged as we approached our lockers. "Well, can you blame me?" I put in my combination; 14 . . . 3 . . . 38 . . . "Damn, stupid locker!" I muttered, pulling on the locker with every muscle I had. I gave up and turned around, facing the kids rushing past me to get to wherever they were going. "Anyone got a wrench?" I asked aloud, earning some strange glances from a couple preppy chicks.

"Yes, because all students must carry wrenches around in their pockets," Carly responded sarcastically, opening her locker with no problem.

I turned back to her. "Hey, can I put my books in there?"

"I guess."

I handed my textbook and notebook to her. "Thanks," I mumbled, just as I felt a presence behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He stood inches behind me, with one of his stupid polo shirts and one of his I'm-Such-A-Dork smiles. Weird—those smiles used to bother me . . .

"Hey, Fredward," I finally managed out, after staring at him for what felt like a half hour. He was staring directly at me, in an expressionless way, like he was trying to tell me something but couldn't say it out loud. What do you want, Fredward?! I had a sudden urge to punch that expressionless look right off his goofy face. No, I told myself, taking a deep breath. Principal Franklin hates you enough already . . .

"Hey, Freddie," I heard Carly say faintly, but I wasn't paying much attention to her anymore.

"Hey," Freddie replied, looking over my shoulder at Carly. "Are we meeting up at your place today?"

"Oh, right . . ." Carly's voice trailed off, causing me to turn and look at her. "Um, yeah, but Spencer's got this thing—it's like an art . . . thing . . . and it's in the middle of our living room, and . . . there's no really explaining it." She looked away quickly.

Freddie and I stared on at her, wondering what Spencer could have possibly created to make her so embarrassed. Then again, it was Spencer. "So can we come?" I asked abruptly, not worrying about being polite around my best friend.

"Yeah, sure," she mumbled sheepishly, shutting her locket with a loud slam. "I got a few new ideas for the next iCarly."

"Great," Freddie said simply, opening his mouth as he was about to say something "technical". "I watching our last show, and I was thinking we could do something with the lighting, because last time—"

"Hey, Sam." My head snapped up as I met the eyes of Johnny Cardin, the head of the football team. I usually didn't go for football idiots, but this guy was hot. He swaggered by me, nodding his head as he gazed at me with those beautiful grey eyes. I smiled self-consciously, probably looking like a completely ass.

Once he was out of sight, I snapped back into the conversation. I was standing between Carly and Freddie, and a very awkward silence. My eyes darted from Carly's to Freddie's. "What!" I demanded, getting frustrated at both of them.

"You and Johnny, huh?" Carly gave me a girly nudge, beaming brightly.

I shook my head furiously, my blond curls flying around. "It's not like that," I growled threateningly.

She rolled her eyes, pulling her bag over her shoulder. "Whatever," she sing-songed, walking past me slowly. "Later."

"Yeah, whatever," I replied grumpily, but she knew I was kidding. Before I realized it, Carly was around the corner, and I was alone with Freddie. Not good. Last time I was alone with this kid, things didn't turn out as expected . . .

"You and Johnny, huh?" Freddie questioned. He sounded a bit angry and his voice was so much deeper. What was that!

I stared at him, realizing that he was right at eye level. He used to be so short. Ah, the good old days. "No," I answered sharply. "That's not it." I looked away.

"Good," I heard him mumble under his breath.

My head snapped again and I glared. "What was that?" I demanded, pushing him against the locker with my fist ready.

For the first time, he didn't look at all afraid. He just held my gaze with low eyes. "Nothing," he murmured, pushing my arm away.

"That's what I thought."

"Look, I was thinking we could talk."

"What's there to talk about? You hate me, I hate you; I think we already settled this," I answered him, trying to get past him.

He followed me closely behind. "We never settled it, Sam." He sighed. "Look, I've been doing a lot of thinking—"

I spun around and faced him, fury shown in my eyes. "There's nothing to think about!" I hissed in a quiet voice. "It was one kiss; just to get it over with, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah I know," he sighed again, matching my voice. His eyes locked with mine and I found I couldn't quite look away. "Just answer me this—what are we gonna tell everyone when they ask who our first kiss was?"

I swallowed and glanced around myself. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, several kids passing us with blank stares. I noticed I was standing extremely close to Freddie, and hastily backed away. "Just make something up," I stammered out silently. "That's what I did."

The bell rang loudly in our ears, but our eyes were still fixed on one another's. "It's over, Freddie," I told him clearly. "One little kiss, and now it's over. And I'm glad. Now we can go on living our lives." I stepped backwards. "I gotta get to class before Principal Franklin flips on me."

With that, I turned and ran to Mrs. Briggs's room, to await certain death.

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