...?" he pressed on. "Is this, like, your way of telling me?" He pulled the shirt over his head.
"What? Ew, no," Sam said quickly.
Dressed now, Freddie stuck his feet into his pair of slippers and walked out into the hall. He found Sam leaning against the wall by his door, one arm crossed over his stomach.
"What then?" he said. He tried to meet her gaze but Sam averted her eyes, staring at the place where the wall met the floor.
"I just…" she began. "I just needed to blow off some steam."
"So I've graduated from punching bag to stress ball now?"
"Sam," he said, "I don't know if I'm comfortable with just being a toy you turn to when you're feeling stressed."
"Oh, come on, Fredward," she said, crossing her arms across her chest and taking a more aggressive tone. "Don't even try to tell me you weren't enjoying yourself," she said, gesturing with her arm through his door at the bed, the sheets still in disarray. "Both times," she added.
"Oh, well, I…" Freddie said, fighting off the urge to blush. "I mean… well, yeah…"
"Look. This," she gestured between them, "doesn't change anything. You're still an insufferable dork."
"That you're sleeping with," he said, raising one eyebrow and tilitng his head skeptically.
She brushed the statement off. "Out of all the guys out there," she said, "you're the only one who'd be embarrassed enough to keep quiet."
Freddie thought for a moment. "I dunno," ...