"Have you...is this your first time doing this?" Sam asked, watching her struggle with the now wrinkled brown wrapping paper. She turned the box once, twice, three times in an attempt to get the sides to fold in evenly without tearing. Each time she'd try to tape one side down, the other would pop up, and she'd let out a deep, tired sigh.
"I've never actually had to wrap a package before," Mercedes admitted, training her eyes on the box before her, "At Christmas, I just pay people at the mall to do it. Last time I did it myself it came out sort of ugly." She furrowed her eyebrows in frustration as she pulled a bit of stray tape, realizing that the tape didn't pull from the paper as cleanly as she'd hoped. She kissed her two front teeth as the telltale sound of tearing cut through the air, reminding everyone of her failure as a volunteer. She found it was easier to deliver the goods and bring the materials to the desired spot, than it was to actually wrap the packages up.
"Are you sure you don't want me to help you out, Princess?" The blond smirked when she shoved the box away, and he bit back a chuckle when her wide brown eyes suddenly narrowed, shooting daggers at him.
"Are you gonna do this every week?" She asked, resting her palms flat against the table, "I mean...the first few times, it was funny. Now I just feel like you're being condescending and I don't like it."
Sam pouted mockingly and rested his chin in his hand, "Awh. You don't like it when people treat you the way you treat them?"
Mercedes took this opportunity to throw a balled up sheet of wrapping paper at the pouting blond, and he dodged it with a mischievous grin gracing his features.
"That's no way to treat your superior, Miss Jones," he chided, leaning forward on the wooden table between them, "I could decide to fire you."
Mercedes glanced up at him for a moment and raised her brows, "You can't fire people from volunteer work. Especially not ones who are following code of conduct."
"Who says I can't make something up, huh?"
Mercedes chuckled and dropped her gaze to the box in front of her, "They wouldn't get rid of me anyway. Not when my family donates so much to the organization. You know that."
That shut him up. She wouldn't let him see her satisfaction.
Giving up on the cardboard box, Mercedes instead chose to peek inside an unsealed one to see what exactly it was that she was packing. She noticed small toys and corner store puzzle games.
"How long have we been at this, Sam?" Mercedes asked, reaching into the box to pick up a small box of crayons.
He looked down at his wrist, "About...three hours. What's up, Princess? Ready to take a break?"
"No." She responded harshly, "I'm just a bit hungry. I had a light breakfast."
He hummed softly and slid his hands into his pockets. Sam had to know that she'd been there earlier than everyone else to help set up the packing stations. And though he teased her, she'd been far more determined to work than he expected her to. She knew that he had to be mildly impressed. "You didn't bring any food with you?"
She shook her head, "In my rush to get here at a decent time, I kinda forgot. I, um, I only remembered to bring fruit snacks."
Walking to her purse on the far end of the table, Mercedes reached her hand in and fished out the half-empty red bag of Welch's. She could hear Sam shuffling behind her, and she turned just in time to see him sit a large blue lunchbag onto the table.
"It's not much," he explained, unzipping it, "My mom packed a grilled cheese sandwich, some pretzels, and some alphabet soup in a thermos. I mean-the soup is in the thermos. Not the, uh, pretzels and sandwich." He ran his fingers through his hair and sucked air from between his teeth, "Because that wouldn't fit in a thermos."
Mercedes giggled softly, surprising herself, "Wait. Sam Evans...are you offering to share with me? Are you saying I'm cool enough to eat your food?"
She watched him crack a crooked smile and he shook his head, "It's not sushi or creme brulee, or whatever it is people on the north end of town eat for lunch. But it's something, right?"
She shrugged and offered him a small smile in return.
They sat on the floor a few feet away from the rest of the volunteers, with legs crossed and elbows rested on their knees. Mercedes did a tiny jig as she bit down into the grilled cheese sandwich for a second time and hummed her complete satisfaction.
"This is the best grilled cheese I've ever had," she liked her lips and examined the sandwich in her hands, "What is this even made from? It tastes like heaven."
Sam rested his chin in his hand and raised his brows, "Beats me. She says that I can't know until I have kids of my own. Until then," he wiggled his fingers in the space between them, "It's all a mystery."
Mercedes scrunched her nose at him, playfully, "You're a mystery."
"So I've been told."
They sat in silence for a moment. Sam took the opportunity to stretch his legs out in front of him, and they lightly brushed Mercedes' denim clad thigh.
"This is the most you've spoken to me in the 8 years I've known you, Miss Jones. Not that I don't appreciate the conversation, but what gives?" He rested his weight back on his palms.
Finishing what was left of her half of the sandwich, Mercedes brushed her hands free of crumbs and wiped her mouth with a napkin.
"Conversation works both ways, Mister Evans. You've never exactly given me a reason to talk to you outside of this community center."
He'd always been just a kid she knew from elementary school, who just so happened to go to her middle school and also her high school. They always ran in different circles. If she was being honest with herself, she never paid much attention to him until she began the neighborhood volunteer projects. Even then, she hadn't expected to find him there, let alone as a team leader.
Sam seemed to consider her response as he nodded his understanding, "True. Y'know what's funny?" He asked, "I was always curious about you. It's kinda hard not to when you just have this presence about you. Everyone wants to be around you all the time. And I guess I did, too." The rubber toes of his converses slapped together with a soft clack.
Mercedes chewed on her lower lip and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, "I always thought the film guys were supposed to be vague and abstract or whatever. Not so upfront. That's who you hang out with, right?" She snorted, "Art nerds."
Sam threw a napkin into her lap and she grinned wider, "Call us what you want. Without us, the school dance team wouldn't have those competition DVD's and digital copies would they?"
Mercedes pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, "True."
He wiggled his eyebrows and opened the thermos of soup. Retrieving a clear, plastic tupperware bowl, Sam poured half of the soup into the bowl and gave the other half to Mercedes in the cup that worked as a top to the thermos.
"Here ya go, Princess."
She nodded her thanks and peered down into the red plastic cup. Various yellow letters swirled around in the broth, and she smiled at the nostalgia of it all.
"So what made you decide to volunteer?" Sam asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
"I didn't have dance team practice this weekend, and my schedule was clear, so I wanted to come down here and see if you guys needed some help with anything."
"Really?" He seemed genuinely surprised.
She frowned, irritated by the perceived assumption that there were ulterior motives for her good deeds, "Yes really. Sometimes I like doing things for other people. I always have." She stretched her legs out beside him.
He tucked his lips inward, and released them with a soft pop, "In that case, I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted."
They both took long sips of their soup as the volunteers chat among themselves in a low buzz. Mercedes could see the sun peeking from behind a thick cloud through the freshly cleaned window of the above their heads. The ray of light engulfed them both, forming a golden halo around Sam's head.
"So," she finally sighed, "what made you decide to volunteer here?"
Sam's lips disappeared between his teeth again and his jade eyes latched onto a spot on the gym floor, "When my family was going through some hard times, I remember this place helping us out quite a bit."
Curious but not wanting to pry, Mercedes searched for her words carefully, "Do you wanna talk about it?"
He bit the corner of his mouth and brought his long legs to his chest. Sliding closer to her, he leaned in close enough for Mercedes to the smell the cologne on his skin. She matched his position and he continued, "I remember one Christmas a few years back. I was going crazy, working extra hours as a newspaper delivery boy, trying to save some money up. I wanted to buy my brother a skateboard and my sister some ice skates. Like, some really nice ones. Not ones that would fall apart after a year.
"I'd been saving up since March. I had this big jar hidden in my closet. Every day I would add a little something to it. Eventually I had enough to get the stuff." He motioned with his hands, and they balled into fists, "So the week before Christmas, I had the money, and I was walking to the sports shop when I got mugged. They took everything my cell phone, my wallet, my MP3 player...of course the money." Sam swallowed and rested his hands on his legs, "I had the stuff on hold so that they wouldn't be sold during the holiday rush. And I kept asking for an extension, but he said no and gave them away." He rested his forehead in his hands, as if he were reliving the moment again, "I promised the twins the best Christmas ever, and then that shit happened. I was so ashamed. I didn't even want to go home."
Mercedes leaned closer and peeked between his hands, "Please tell me this has a happy ending?"
His shoulders shook from a silent chuckle, "Well Christmas came. And I was all pissed off. I come into the motel living room area where our makeshift tree was, and I see three gifts under the three. Long story short, Stace got an Easy Bake Oven, Stevie got a Spider-Man web slinger, and I wound up getting a sketchbook and charcoal. I found out later that they were all donated, even though I kinda felt like my gift was personal. So yeah."
Recognition crossed Mercedes' mind, and she hoped that it didn't come across on her features. The web slinger took a bit of convincing, as her mother doubted that anyone would really want a toy that sprayed water and silly string all over the house.
She would never let him know that
"And that's what it's all about," Mercedes replied brightly, finishing her soup and pushing around the leftover letters in her cup with her fingernail, "seeing the happy smiling faces of children. And I've never actually seen reactions, but I like to imagine that the people of this town are satisfied."
She could feel Sam's eyes on her, watching her as she fidgeted with the noodles in an attempt to spell something out.
"You're not half bad."
She smiled to herself, "Neither are you. You know, when you want to take a break from your super grumpy hipster ways."
He laughed, tossing his head back, "Whatever you say, darlin'. Are you well enough to go back to work?"
Pursing her lips, Mercedes pretended to ponder the question.
"Maybe."
When she finished, she tilted the cup in his direction. She quickly noticed the tips of his ears burn a deep shade of red as he bowed his head,"You are too...I guess."
"You guess I'm cute?"
"I guess."
Mercedes shook her head and slowly stood to her feet, sauntering back towards the packing table, "I take my compliment back."
He audibly gasped, "You can't take it back!"
"I'm taking it back."