...about ideas for iCarly and play-fighting and bickering and Carly looked so damn kissable in her pink nightie and boxer shorts, and goddamn it, Sam had to, freaking had to kiss her because . . .
"You kissed me."
The shock obviously reduced Carly to stating the apparent.
Sam pulls back from Carly, scoots over for the other side of the couch. She stares straight at the TV, drawing in deep breaths, tries not to scream, run away, get out of here, goddamn it-!
"You . . . " Carly hesitates. For a second, the only sound is Sam's heavy breathing and their pounding hearts. The apartment hums with silence. It's just the two of them, alone in the world Sam managed to screw up royally.
"I like you, okay?" Sam spits out. She's replayed the words a million times over in her head. A billion. "I like you. Like-like."
Carly closes her eyes and opens them. "You're . . . lesbian?"
"Bi, I think." Sam waits for the grossed-out expression, the shivers, for Carly to yell at her to leave.
"Um . . . " Carly hesitates. "Me too."
"What?" Sam stares at her. "You're . . . wait . . . what?" Hope ignites and burns and smolders.
"Because . . . I, you know, never really told you either, but . . . I like you too, okay? And that kiss, wasn't such, you know, a bad thing," Carly stumbles over her words, shakes her head, then half-yells to Sam, "That kiss wasn't a bad thing, okay?"
Then she grabs Sam by the shoulders and kisses her again.