Hi, everyone, it's Cierra. I know I haven't been posting a lot in a wicked long time, and I'm sorry. It's just, I've come to think of writing as more as lots of phases of writing fever than a full time commitment. I'm definitely updating this one, though.

In case you do not want to read this because you're thinking, "Ew, is this another post-iOMG thing where Sam cries herself to sleep or something and then Freddie writes I love you or something on her forehead?" (Actually, I just made that one up myself - because of Sam drawing on Gibby's forehead. Creative, right?) Because it's not. I've read, like, seventeen of those, and - maybe it's just because I'm a perfectionist, not that I'm perfect or anything - the plots are horrendous. This came up when I got really excited after seeing the iLost My Mind promo, so I looked it up on Wikipedia, like I always do with shows I love. And, maybe it's just a fluke, because it's gone now. But it had iLost My Mind listed after iPary with Victorious, followed by two episodes called iDate Sam and Freddie and iLove You. I was like "Awww!" and starting thinking about what those would be like. That evolved into a daydream, and that evolved into me getting so ticked off at forgetting where I was in the daydream that I had to write it down, and that evolved into this. So, I hope you enjoy. Tell me what you think, and please, be honest. I cannot STAND unrealistic compliments.

Sorry if you read that huge paragraph and are now discouraged from reading the rest. For some reason, I feel really good about writing this down. Probably won't in a while, but whatever. Read on!

DISCLAIMER: Do I even need to write anything else? I'm thirteen! Disclaimers are kind of ridiculous.

CARLY

"Spencer! Keep your eyes on the road!" I shrieked, just in time for Spencer to jolt awake and avoid a crazily swerving taco truck.

"Hate taco trucks," Freddie muttered from the back seat.

"Sorry," Spencer mumbled. "I wouldn't be so tired right now if I hadn't been kept up all night in a certain sensory stimulus chamber!" That last part was directed at me.

"It was hopefully worth it," I shrugged off his accusation.

"The fact that it has three big words in the title will get you an A in Truscott's class for sure," Sam pointed out helpfully. "She's used to idiots." I almost imperceptibly winced. Sam was almost never helpful - another sign of what had happened last night.

"Yeah," I managed, then turned to look at Sam and Freddie at the back seat. They were sitting as far away from each other as they could possibly manage, and they hadn't said a word directly to the other the entire drive. It was driving me insane (driving - haha, good one, since we're in a… oh, never mind). Normally, by this point Sam and Freddie would be not getting along very badly, and Spencer would have to pull over and we'd get a ticket by parking in a no parking zone (Officer Carl still hates us).

"So, how'd your project go?" I asked after a moment. If they would just talk to each other…

Sam and Freddie stiffened slightly. I saw Freddie glance at Sam for a split second, then he stared at his foot. Sam just looked straight ahead.

"It went… fine," Sam mumbled after a moment.

"It was good," Freddie added, but still not really talking to her. I kicked the seat, frustrated at having such stupid friends.

"Sam, we're at your house," Spencer said suddenly. I glanced out my window. Sam's small one-story home was on the right side of the car.

I frowned at Spencer. "I haven't told you what house it was on the street yet. How'd you know?"

"Just a lucky guess," Spencer shrugged, uncomfortable. He sighed. "The person who owns this house is using bras as curtains. That, well, it sounds like Sam's mother."

"Yeah, I know. She made the bras out of our curtains when she - hey, wait a minute, one of those is mine! Mom!" She stomped out of the car, slamming the door and yelling things at her house that really should be censored. Her shouts disturbed the soft morning sunset. A bird screeched and pooped on the already disgusting fence surrounding her overgrown yard.

"Wow," Spencer said in amazement. "Sam is really inappropriate."

"Yeah," I murmured. No words of agreement came from the back seat. I groaned inwardly.

After a long, awkward, emotionally aggravating drive, we arrived back at the apartment building. As soon as we'd parked the car, Freddie bolted out of the door, not even saying good-bye or thank you.

"What's up with him?" Spencer asked, getting out of the car.

"Um, some new medication his mom is making him take," I said lightly. "It's supposed to stop puberty or something."

"Poor kid," Spencer said sympathetically. I muttered something like "I know" in response and hurried out of the parking garage. I needed to think.

Of course, Spencer couldn't let that happen. As soon as he shut the door to our apartment, he demanded, "All right, what's up? Sam and Freddie went, like, half an hour without saying a single mean word to each other - actually, they said nothing to each other at all - and you've been acting outlandish all morning."

"Nothing's up," I said casually. "And I am not acting - what does outlandish mean?"

"Strange or odd," Spencer recited. "Jenna is a librarian. She's encouraging me to improve my vocabulary."

"Jenna?"

"My new girlfriend," Spencer said proudly, rolling his r's.

"Does she roll her r's like that?"

"Yeperooni!"

"Ah," I said. "Well, I'm going to go eat some granola bars -"

"No, tell me what's going on!" Spencer insisted, jumping in my way. "You can tell me! I'm great at advising people!"

I stared at him. "No, you aren't! The last time I took advice from you we ended up getting banned from the zoo!"

"Okay, in my defense, giving the gorilla coffee was only a suggestion and secondly, I can't believe you were stupid enough to…" He was laughing, but got serious when he saw my face. "Tell me or I'll whip you with my Sham-pow!"

"Fine!" I groaned, flopping onto the couch. I took a deep breath. "Sam -"

"Wait, before you start, can I get something to drink?" Spencer interrupted.

I sighed, too used to him interrupting me to be bothered with being mad. "There's a glass of my special lemonade on the table right there."

"Slightly erroneous, but I ran out of Wahoo Punch last night," Spencer said, grabbing the glass. "Continue your story."

"Okay… at the lock-in, Sam and Freddie….they kissed." Spencer spluttered and started coughing like my great-aunt Jill. "Spencer, are you okay?" He shook his head, still wheezing. "Oh my God!" I stood up and frantically pounded him on the back. "I didn't know you'd be so shocked that you'd choke."

"It's not that," Spencer gasped, sitting down. "It's the lemonade."

"What's wrong with it?" I raised my eyebrow. For some reason, no one seemed to like my special lemonade. "I made it yesterday."

"No, it's just that last night, after I got back from playing poker with Socko's cousin-twice-removed, I really needed to pee - uh, I mean urinate - and I couldn't hold it long enough, so I…" Spencer suddenly took a double take. "Wait, Sam and Freddie kissed?"

I chose to focus on that rather than the fact that Spencer thought my lemonade was a toilet. "Yeah! They kissed for, like ten seconds!"

"And then what?" Spencer breathed.

"Nothing!" I cried, getting worked up all over again. "Sam left and inhaled about six pounds of ham and Freddie just stood there for ten minutes going, 'Uh… what… Sam… Uh?'"

"Wait, who kissed who?" Spencer asked urgently.

"I think Sam kissed him," I said uncertainly. I wasn't sure. Sam had refused to talk to me, or anyone, for that matter. "I mean, earlier, Freddie's mood-app said Sam was in love, but we all assumed she was in love with Brad. Because, you know, Sam hates Freddie."

"Oh, man, this is huge!" Spencer exclaimed excitably. "I saw something like this in The Last Days of Forever, when Gracie hates Jameson, but they eventually fall in love and have a child named Horatio but Horatio is killed by Jameson's ex-wife Mayra, but they don't know that, and -"

"Wait, isn't The Last Days of Forever a really cheesy soap opera on CBA?" I asked, smiling. "For like, teenage girls?"

Spencer, realizing what he just said, stalked out of the room. As he left, he yelled over his shoulder, "There's nothing wrong with liking effeminate TV shows!"