EIGHT YEARS LATER

Carly POV 1:28PM Age 25

I slowly open the door to the apartment that I used to share with Spencer before I had left for college seven years ago, smiling when a wave of nostalgia hits me. Our dad had come out of service six years ago and, after living with Spencer for a month, had decided to move to another building a few miles away. My eyes lock on random objects around the room, remembering a happy memory for each one. Spencer's old robot made of soda bottles, his red eyes flashing every so often. The couch that had been Sam's home away from home for most of high school. The kitchen counter that Spencer had replaced at the same time that we had been kidnapped by that crazy chick, Nora. Spencer's sculpture of Sam's favorite soufflé dish from senior year. Of course, a few things were different. A new flat screen TV, state of the art computer, and a few crazy sculptures that I hadn't seen before. But it still felt like home. I laugh at the thought, pulling my rolling suitcases in and closing the door. Spencer had told me over the phone that he was going to be out with this girl he met at the art museum until late, so I settle on the couch and flick on the TV. Girly Cow, the now extinct cartoon of my teenage years, was running a marathon. Yet my favorite show fails to hold my attention and my thoughts drift to my two best friends.

Senior year had been interesting to say the least. Mrs. Benson and Mrs. Puckett had eventually met and, surprisingly, liked each other a lot. Pam Puckett and Marissa Benson often went to joint therapy sessions and became more balanced, like they were trading small parts of themselves with the other. They still had lunch together at least once a week and spoke often—they had grudgingly accepted Sam and Freddie's relationship after a year or two when they realized that it made their children happy. Sam had filled her schedule with easy classes, including home etc. Somewhere along the way, she discovered that she enjoyed cooking food almost as much as she loved eating it. Freddie had easily gotten into MIT in Cambridge, Massachusetts for computer science. Sam and Freddie got an apartment in Boston, only three miles from Cambridge. Sam attended a culinary school in Boston before working her way up to sous chef in Boston's best restaurant while Freddie did a few internships with Facebook and Google before graduating and working as a designer for computer spreads and applications. I had gone to the University of Chicago for political science and had worked internships with a few campaigns before I was finally picked to lead the Illinois division of the next presidential campaign. My boyfriend, a really awesome guy named Cory, also had gone to the University of Chicago, but for economics. We shared an apartment in a suburb just outside of Chicago. Gibby had gone to Seattle community college and had graduated with a degree in theater. Ms. Esposito had inspired him to be an actor and he was a great one, surprisingly. Before long he had visited both Chicago and Boston on a nationwide tour of Wicked, a musical based on what really happened before and during the Wizard of Oz. Gibby played the lion and it suited him well; he loved his work. Gibby was supposed to fly into Seattle tomorrow for our little reunion. We'd made a pact, eight years ago, that we would meet in Seattle by tomorrow and hang out for an entire week.

Sam and Freddie had back in Seattle for a week already, doing who knows what. That's when I hear the screams.

"COME HERE, BENSON!" Sam yells furiously, her tone deadly. I jump up from the couch, listening to the pounding footsteps suddenly coming from the hallway outside.

"YOU SHOULD AT LEAST THINK ABOUT IT SAM!" Freddie's screams of terror are much closer than Sam's roars and I realize that Sam must be chasing him. The door to the apartment bursts open and Freddie skids in, falling to the floor. He immediately jumps to his feet and slams his body against the door, chaining it shut. Freddie quickly braces himself against the door and pulls ragged breaths like he's just run a marathon. He seizes the handle in a white-knuckle grip, clutching it tightly so no one can open the door.

"Freddie, what happened?" I ask, panicking. He must not have noticed me before because he jumps at the sound of my voice but quickly finds me.

"Oh, hey-." He starts, interrupted when the door is almost pushed out of its frame. Freddie stumbles away from the door for a brief second before throwing himself against the door again.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" Sam demands, ramming her body against the other side of the door again. Freddie manages to hold his ground this time, but only barely.

"HELP ME!" Freddie screams at me, still bracing himself against the door.

"OPEN THE DAMN DOOR BEFORE I SHOVE THIS RING UP YOUR-." Sam roars, her undoubtedly rude threat interrupted by Freddie.

"JUST THINK ABOUT IT, SAM!" He yells back, literally shaking in terror. It takes me a few seconds to realize what Sam had said.

"Wait, ring?" Freddie looks up and dread of the worst kind fills me. Had she said no? "OH MY GOD, DID YOU PROPOSE TO SAM?" I scream, wondering if it could possibly true. Freddie leans forward off of the door, opening his mouth to respond. Sam, now that Freddie has finally released the doorknob, shoves the door open hard enough to break the chain. Before Freddie can react, Sam catches him in a flying tackle. They both hit the ground hard, Sam rolling off of him on impact. Freddie struggles to get away, crawling forward on his stomach. Sam, recovered from the force of the tackle, grabs his feet and flips him onto his back. She drops his feet, jumping on top of him and landing squarely on his chest. Freddie huffs as all of the wind is knocked out of him, giving Sam the opportunity to straddle his chest and force his hands to the ground on either side of his head. Still dreading the answer, I try again.

"DID FREDDIE PROPOSE?" I demand, relieved when Sam looks over her shoulder at me to answer.

"Oh, hey Carls." She says casually, like nothing was happening. "Yep, Fredweird here popped the question on the fire escape." She rolls her eyes at me before turning her gaze on Freddie again. "Such a sap."

"Trying..to..be…romantic." Freddie huffs, still trying to get his breath back.

"YOU SAID NO?" I scream, the full impact of my dread hitting me. Sam releases Freddie's arms, sliding into his lap when he sits up to stare at me. Sam pivots her whole torso to look at me. They both look confused beyond belief.

"Huh?" Sam asks, tilting her head to the side.

"Did. You. Say. No." I repeat, moving closer, terrified.

"No. Of course I didn't say no. Geez Carly. We've only known for eight years." Sam finally replies, laughing. That boggled me.

"Eight years. Freddie proposed eight years ago and now you're telling me?" Had Freddie proposed before senior year started? Why hadn't they told me?

"What? NO, Carly. I've known for eight years but he didn't propose until a few minutes ago." Sam shakes her head, turning in Freddie's lap to roll her eyes at him. "Such a sap."

"Hey! That was a good freaking proposal!" Freddie defends himself, exasperated. Sam thinks for a moment, resting her chin on her hand.

"I'd give it a five out of ten." Freddie pushes her off of his lap, rolling his eyes. Sam sticks her tongue out at him.

"Hello? Still here you two. What do you mean that you knew for eight years?" I ask, still confused. Sam shrugs, looking back at Freddie.

"I've known he was going to propose since that summer before senior year." She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Didn't you know?"

"Of course I didn't know, Sam! How have you possibly known for so long?" Sam looks back at Freddie again, asking for help.

"We just knew, Carly." He shrugs, looking at Sam for a long time before continuing. "I love her and she loves me." His easy smile becomes a smirk. "I mean who could resist my boyish charms and amazingly sexy tech talk?" Sam's eyes narrow and she twists her back to me, pushing Freddie to the ground again. Hard. There's a brief struggle as Freddie half-heartedly fights for control of his arms, letting Sam pin them on either side of his head. She moves up to straddle his chest again.

"Yeah, right Benson. That's what brings the girls running." Sam teases playfully. Suddenly her body tenses and I can feel the anger radiating off of her. "AND DON'T TRY TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT! THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL THAT MELANIE IS GOING TO BE OUR WEDDING PLANNER!" Sam yells, leaning down so that she's mere inches from Freddie's face.

"YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SHE'S BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO IT AND SHE'S VERY GOOD AT WHAT SHE DOES!" Freddie argues, Sam's dominant position lessening the force behind his words.

"SHE'S INSANE! DID YOU SEE TAYLOR SWIFT'S WEDDING? THAT WAS A RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF FLUFF! I MIGHT BARF ON MY WAY UP THE AISLE!" Sam shouts back.

"You're already talking wedding planners?" I ask, still exasperated that they were arguing with each other so soon. They certainly seemed happy, but they just couldn't stop arguing. I can't see Sam's face, but she's probably glaring daggers more effectively than Freddie is.

"We may have been a few conversations about all of this, since we've known for so long." Sam explains, still trying to stare down Freddie. Freddie's expression softens at her words, replaced with a kind of wondering admiration that probably said something along the lines of: How did I get this lucky? When Sam speaks again, her tone is noticeably calmer and almost a whisper. "There wasn't much to figure out. Freddifer here would pick some cheesy place to propose and I would say yes." She laughs, jabbing Freddie's chest. He groans, faking a grimace of pain. "We gotta go with the Gibster as the best man and you're the maid of honor, of course."

"If it's okay with Spencer, Sam wants him to walk her up the aisle." He says, never looking past Sam. Tears choke the back of my throat. It was all really happening.

"I'm sure he'd be honored." I reply, teary-eyed. Sam pulls away from Freddie and turns to face me, a bright smile on her face.

"So, you'll be my maid of honor?" She asks, raising one of her eyebrows. I think about it for half a second before answering.

"Are you kidding?" I scream shrilly and run to her, hugging her tightly while jumping up and down. "This is going to be so much fun!" I give another fan girlish scream and jump even higher.

"Um..ow." Freddie says, getting to his feet and rubbing his ears. Sam pulls away from me and slaps his arm.

"Don't be such a wimp, Fredwad." Sam scolds him, rolling her eyes. Freddie seems to be considering something carefully now, rubbing his arm absently.

"Ok, Puckett, how 'bout this? I'll give you ham as the main dish at the reception IF you let Melanie plan the wedding." Freddie looks down at Sam hopefully and her eyes narrow, thinking.

"Ham as the main dish AND I get to pick where we go on the honeymoon. Then Melanie can plan it." Sam counters, pressing herself against Freddie. He considers her for a second before smiling.

"Deal." Sam smiles back and pulls him down into a kiss. I avert my eyes, collapsing on the couch and shaking my head. I had always wondered about the possibility of Sam and Freddie getting married, growing surer every time I saw them together that it would happen. They had managed to find the perfect balance between bickering best friends and the kind of deep love that I dreamed I could find one day. Freddie's voice pulls me out of my thoughts and I focus on the two. Sam's head is resting against Freddie's chest, her eyes closed in contentment, and her arms wrapped around him tightly. Freddie's arms are around her waist, his gaze resting on the top of her head.

"Were you really that sure about saying yes?" He asks curiously, obviously talking about their engagement. Sam pulls away and stares up at him, a soft smirk playing across her face.

"Were you expecting a no?" She teases, the phrase meaning more to Freddie than to me. He laughs, pulling her into kiss and I look away again, smiling. I watch TV for a minute, waiting until one of them speaks again.

"Forever, right?" Sam whispers, hugging Freddie tightly. He smiles and kisses her forehead.

"Forever." He agrees. As soon as I see Sam's smirk, I know that something's about to happen.

"Agh!" Freddie cries in pain, backing away from Sam. Sam laughs hysterically at his expression, resting her hands on her knees as she doubles over in a near spastic fit. Freddie shakes his head, looking at Sam in annoyance. "A wedgie? What are you, ten?" Sam's laughs fade to chuckles, pulling Freddie into another kiss, shorter this time.

"Aww, come on Benson, look at the bright side. You will never, ever, be bored." She laughs again but this time Freddie joins in, reaching out to tuck one of her blond curls behind her ear.

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

And everything was as it should be.

There's the official ending to iShakespeare. Thank you again for all of your amazing support, I couldn't have done it without you. It's been a pleasure writing for you. :)

-KWilson