Hi! I probably should not be starting a new fic, but this is a prompt I got that easily turned into something that should be continued, and I got inspired, so why not? I hope you enjoy it.

"Nobody asked you to come to this school and cause all this trouble!"

"Trust me, I had a choice this school would be last on the list! I find it insane that you think I'd actually enjoy being around hateful, ignorant white folks!"

Sam and Mercedes stared each other down, chests heaving. They were in an empty classroom, as they'd been told to come there after school for detention. Her, for telling off another boy in class, and him for arriving twenty minutes late. Ms. Corcoran didn't care about skin color; she cared about rules and grammar. You break the rules, you get detention. She'd been monitoring them, but excused herself to go to the restroom. It didn't take long for the two kids to be at each other's throats.

"I aint ignorant!" he yelled.

"Yeah you are! You all are! You're all mean as hell, and for what? The color of my skin? You're weak and ignorant," she spat. Sam was seething. Yeah, he joined in on the teasing and jeering, especially when it came to Mercedes. Secretly, it had nothing to do with her being colored. He was just trying to cover up the fact that he thought she was pretty.

"You think I don't catch you staring at me during class? I'm not a zoo animal!" she continued. "You all should go find some and leave me the hell alone!"

"Then leave!" he yelled.

"Oh trust me, baby, I wish I could! But sadly they save all the good education for the precious white kids, and my parents won't let me out of this opportunity. So you're stuck with me."

"Unfortunately!" That's all he could come up with, but it was enough in his mind. His façade was dissolving however, because she looked beautiful when she was pissed.

"Go to hell," she shot back.

"You first."

She opened her mouth to speak again, but was abruptly cut off by his lips against hers. She didn't kiss back, and he pulled away, beet red and breathing heavily.

"What the hell…?" Sam closed his eyes. He was fucked. "Is that why you pick on me?"

"I…whatever! Drop it," he said, folding his arms.

"No, no, no, we're not dropping it. You just stole my first kiss and you want to drop it? Okay wait, so you act like a racist asshole because you like me? Are you five?"

"That was your first kiss?" She put her hands on her hips and stared at him.

"That's what you got out of that?"

The conversation was cut short when Ms. Corcoran returned and told them to get back to their seats. Mercedes stared at the desk, committing the carvings to memory, and Sam stared at her, committing her profile to memory. He kept trying to direct his attention elsewhere, like the window or the front of the classroom, but his gaze always found its way to her. He was always staring, and when she'd catch him doing it in class, he'd pretend he was glaring and flip her off, getting praise from his friends for doing it. "Put her in her place, Sammy," they'd say.

The timer on Ms. Corcoran's desk went off, signaling the end of detention. Mercedes rose immediately, grabbed her books and booked it out of the classroom. Sam picked up his bag and ran after her. She was surprisingly fast and he hadn't caught up to her until they were out of the school and she was fast-walking down the side-walk.

"Hey!" he called after her, jogging up.

"What." She slowed, but didn't stop walking and he fell into step next to her.

"I don't know," he said after a few seconds. He'd caught up to her but didn't think it through.

"Wanna talk about how you kissed me because you secretly like me and tell me to keep my mouth shut so your friends don't find out?"

"No! Well the first part…maybe the second part, I don't know…" She stopped and faced him with her hand on her hip.

"Whatever you need to say, spit it out. You had a lapse of judgment? I'm pretty for a colored girl? I should be glad you kissed me? Erase it from my memory or else?" She was glaring at him.

"Wow," was all he got out.

"What?"

"Nothing…you just really think I'm an asshole," he said, kind of surprised at how she portrayed him, though he knew he shouldn't have been.

"Of course I think you're an asshole," she replied, saying it like the grass was green and pigeons flew. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You're right. Being mean to you because I like you is immature, but I don't know what to do when other people are around. And I didn't really have a lapse of judgment, I just…the conversation was heated and I got riled up…" he said. She raised an eyebrow. "And anyway, yeah, you are pretty. Period. And you don't have to erase it from your memory. I actually was hoping you'd like it…"

"Why would I have liked it? Why would I like you?"

"I deserve that."

"You're damn straight you deserve it," she said, folding her arms. His hands still in his pockets, he looked at her and rocked back on the balls of his heels.

"So can I kiss you again?"

Her resolve was shaken a little by the question. For a split second, Sam saw the determined, pissed off girl in front of him change. Something in her eyes was different; they were softer.

"No."

"Why not?"

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't like you?" she asked, releasing a frustrated huff.

"I don't know. I'm not that smart, so people have to repeat things a lot before I really get them," he said simply. Her glare was fixed on him, but the corner of her mouth twitched slightly in the suggestion of a smile. He took a step forward on the sidewalk and she took a step back. He did it again and she repeated the action. They continued this until she was off the sidewalk and against a tree. His face was inches from hers and she could feel his slow, steady breaths. She suddenly looked left, right, and behind him, afraid someone would walk by.

"No one's around," he said, sensing her worry.

"You can't be sure of that," she responded, her voice about ten times quieter than before. Her whole demeanor had changed with him this close to her.

"Fine," he said, backing up. She let out a sigh of relief. Hours ago, she would have sworn she hated this kid, but with him as close as he'd been, she was actually seeing him and the pull she felt bothered her. She thought all white boys looked the same, and she'd never really been attracted to one, but right now, looking at Sam's magnetic green eyes, dirty blond hair, abnormally large lips, and arms showing out of the rolled up sleeves of his button down, she needed to shut her legs.

When he said 'Fine', she misinterpreted it as a retreat, but was corrected when he grabbed her hand and pulled her past the tree and behind the school. If she'd been in her right mind, she would have pushed him away and ran off, but she was simply letting him lead her into the woods behind the football field. When they were a good distance inside, he stopped and turned to her, cornering her on yet another tree.

"There. No one's gonna walk by now," he said. His voice at the moment was another thing to check off the brand new list of ways Sam Evans made her knees weak.

"Squirrels…" she said. She shut her eyes and chastised herself. Really Mercedes? Squirrels?

"They don't mind," he replied.

"Sam…" His lips were on hers before she could complete the thought. He cupped her face and licked her lips, prompting her to let his tongue enter her mouth. She opened up right away and he gently tilted her head for a better angle, pressing up against her so there were no gaps between him, her or the tree. Her books fell from her arms and plopped onto the soft soil next to them, but it didn't distract them, as they were busy exploring each other with their tongues. Sam had been wanting to do this since he first saw her being escorted into the school, his friends around him throwing racial slurs and telling her to go back to wherever she came from.

He was never sure what his type was. He dated girls, but only because they asked and it was what the quarterback was supposed to do, it seemed. But he'd never laid eyes on a girl like he did Mercedes that day and had her make his insides feel like they were pirouetting. Now, in these woods, against this tree, he felt like he was on fire, but in a good way, if that made sense.

He pulled away, his lips still ghosting over hers and drifted his gaze from her mouth to her eyes, where she was simply staring back. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and continued to stare at her. Instead of feeling uncomfortable like she always did when she saw his stare, Mercedes felt oddly relaxed.

"I should get home," she said finally. She was already late, and living in Tennessee, her parents couldn't help but worry when she didn't come straight home from school. The things colored folks had to be afraid of in the South could fill about ten encyclopedias. She knew that even if she wasn't beaten in a ditch somewhere, had they discovered her in the woods being kissed on by a white boy, they'd never let her leave the house.

"Okay," he said, stepping back. He bent down and gathered her books off the ground and handed them to her after wiping any excess dirt off of them. She smiled appreciatively and took them before walking in the direction that led back to the school.

"Can I see you again?" he said, loud enough for her to hear him as the distance between them grew. "Maybe…meet me here tomorrow?"

She turned around and looked at him, considering it.

"My parents want me straight home after school," she replied. He bit his lip then spoke again.

"During lunch?" She considered it. She ate alone and no one cared where she was then.

"Okay."

"Okay," he smiled. "Right here?"

She nodded and turned back around to head home, her cheeks warm the entire time.