Lies Sam Puckett Tells

You tap your foot against the dash board of his pick-up truck, ignoring his complaints of dirty shoe marks. You know it annoys him, but hey, what are best friends for? Yes, you do indeed consider him as your best friend. Even more so than Carly at times, but you would never admit that out loud. You smirk and listen to him rant about how horrible his date was earlier that evening. You pretend like you're listening, but really, out of the corner of your eye, you're counting the colors of his eyes. You curse yourself for playing the cliché role of a love-struck fangirl, but you can't help it. His eyes are just so fascinating. They're not just plain old brown as you once believed. No, it's like they're a combination of milk chocolate and coffee. You can even catch small flecks of gold in a certain light. You're distracted from his eyes as he mentions the word 'love'.

"I'll never fall in love."

He says it in a way that almost has you convinced that he was never the scrawny little boy who spent years pining over your best friend. You mention her name off-handedly. He replies in a joking tone.

"I was never in love with her, you know?"

What a load of B.S. You fake a smile and tell him you understand completely.

Do these negative feelings towards his affection to another girl imply that you're jealous?

No, you lie.

.

.

.

It's his eighteenth birthday, and there you are, in the middle of the party, trying to start an argument with the birthday boy. You know for a fact that he loves these arguments the two of you have, hence the not-so-innocent name-calling in the middle of your birthday speech for him. It's just a simple "Freddork" and he's already raising his voice. In the midst of the argument, you're red in the face with feigned rage and you seem to be thisclose to ripping his head off, but on the inside, you're wearing a smile the size of Texas.

Are you enjoying your loud bantering the two of you are having?

Of course not, you lie.

.

.

.

He looks around the crowded cafeteria, telling you all about Gibby's latest shirtless antics. He catches your eye and smiles, oblivious to the fact that you've been blatantly staring at him like a lovesick puppy for the past five minutes. He takes a bite out of the meticulously organized lunch his mother packed for him (yes, mommy still packed his lunch) and you mentally face palm yourself. You do your best to bite back a sigh as he flashes you a swoon-worthy grin.

Does this feeling of one-sidedness make you upset?

Nope, you lie.

.

.

.

You're in the iCarly studio, arguing with Carly.

"Freddie's favorite color is blue," the brunette insists.

You shake your head in disagreement and wish your best friend would just listen to you. "His favorite color's green." Freddie works hard as iCarly technical producer; you and Carly want to reward his work with a brand new PearPhone case in his favorite color, which you're positive is green. He told you himself. You watch as your best friend crosses her arms stubbornly.

"It's blue. I'm absolutely, one hundred percent sure." As she says this, the studio door opens, revealing Freddie Benson himself. Immediately, you pounce on him and demand to know his favorite color.

"I've told you before; it's green."

You flash Carly a smug grin and a there's a ray of happiness pulsing through your body as you help Freddie off the ground.

Are you happy about the fact that you were right and Carly was wrong, or are you happy to know that you know more about Freddie Benson than the other girl ever will?

The fact that I was right, you lie.

.

.

.

You're standing at the hood of his truck and the two of you are fighting, like real honest-to-God fighting. He yells at you and you yell back ten times louder. He just stands there and then you watch as he walks away. Guilt and anger are seeping through you as he revs up the ignition and quickly drives away.

Damn it, can't you see I'm holding every breath for you, idiot?

As his car disappears around the corner, you pick up a rock and hurl it in the direction he drove off in. The rock goes awry and bounces off a street light, hitting you dead center in the forehead as it ricochets back. You curse and stomp off in the direction of Bushwell Plaza.

When you get there, will you drop your pride and go apologize, or will you just break into Carly's and take her ham?

The latter, you lie.

.

.

.

So, you're not at Carly's stuffing your face with precious meats. No, you're perched on the ledge outside of Freddie's window listening to him pluck at guitar strings half-heartedly. You're not surprised that he can play guitar; he showed you his secret talent a few weekends ago when Carly was in Yakima. You peek through the window and see him run a hand through his hair, ruining its usually neat, perfect style. You like it better this way, you decide. He starts playing again, and you faintly recognize the tune of your favorite Plain White T's song. You absentmindedly hum along and fail to notice that he's staring right at you. You don't even realize it until he taps on the window, frowning down at you as he does so. You look up at him with pleading, apologetic eyes, two feeling you are rarely associated with. He sighs and props open the window.

"Get out of the cold, Puckett."

You slip into his bedroom and sit on the edge of his unmade bed, toying with the ends of your hair. You bite your lip and lock eyes with him. His soft expression tells you all is forgiven, but you start apologizing anyways. You're rambling. He just shushes you with an innocent kiss on the cheek. You feel a blush crawling onto your face and see that he, too, is red with embarrassment.

Suddenly, the two of you are laughing. He sits down next to you and bumps his shoulder to yours.

"I hate you."

"Hate you, too." This is not exactly a lie, because for you and Freddie, hate often means the exact opposite.

Yeah, I was listening to Taylor Swift, and found myself suddenly inspired to write this little one-shot. Ah, T-Swizzle.

Oh, and sorry if Sam seems kinda OOC, but love does funny things to people, okay?

Review please!

Love,

DEETRIXJAAY :3

P.S. - Didja know it's 2 in the morning right now? Three cheers for lack of sleep! No, just kidding. But seriously, it's 2 in the morning. Okay, I'll shut up now.