...the couch and Sam ends up leaning over her, strands of long brown hair tangled around her fingers.
When they break apart, both of them are gasping. Sam's eyes flare open, and she sees a blushing, flushing Carly staring back at her.
Her lips still burn, her body still tingles.
Fuck, I'm such an idiot! Why did I do that?
"Oh," Carly says.
Thirty seconds ago, they were talking 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." ...