Disclaimer: on first page

A/N: Hey everyone! I wasn't expecting the huge response I got, it's so wonderful! I'm glad so many of you are already invested in where this story is going, and I promise it'll be a good one. So many of you guessed correctly, the title of the fic is from Ingrid Michaelson's "The Way I Am" - it's one of my favorite songs. This update is a little shorter than the first chapter, but I had to cut it off where I did because of what's happening in the next one.

Enjoy!

"Santana! Shut the fuck up, you're making a scene," Sam hissed at his best friend. She was wiping tears of mirth from her eyes as deep belly laughs made her shoulders shake.

"I- I can't," she managed to choke out before dissolving into another fit of giggles. He rolled his eyes and turned around to see if Santana was disturbing any of the patrons when he saw her look up at him. He whipped back around and glared at the laughing girl.

"San, seriously, stop! She's looking at us, she's gonna know!"

The brunette took a few deep breaths to steady herself before facing him with an arched brow. "You can't be serious, Sam. You do realize that she has no way of knowing what you said from halfway across the room. For all she knows, you could have just told me the funniest joke known to man. Of course that would require you actually being funny…but she doesn't know you."

"You can be so fucking obnoxious," he muttered, busying himself with refilling the sugar and honey containers on the counter to keep her from seeing his embarrassment at overreacting to her laughter. "You're lucky you're cute, or else I wouldn't keep you around. It's good for my image"

"What image?" Santana scoffed, dodging the sugar packet he tossed at her. "And thanks for stating the obvious, but you're not exactly my type," she grinned.

"Ha."

They worked in silence for a few minutes, filling the orders of a group of students that came in buzzing about some movie they'd just been to see. Sam was glad to see that one of them left a sizeable tip in the jar by the register; it was one of the few perks of going to school with people who didn't know the value of a dollar. He supposed he should be thanking his lucky stars that someone hadn't opened a Starbucks in the small town.

"You know what I think…" Santana began, taking a blueberry scone from one of the glass-domed stands that displayed the shop's pastries. Sometimes Sam was convinced that she only took this job for the access it afforded her to sweets. How she managed to eat twice what he did and be so skinny, he'd never know.

"No…and I'm not sure I want to," he admitted.

"Funny. Look, just hear me out here." She bit into the scone and smiled; Sam had known her for a long time, and very few things put that genuine of a smile on her face as often as the first bite of something delicious. He thought it was adorable, but he never told her that – she'd probably smack him. "I think you should go talk to her-"

"No."

"Sam-"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he murmured, not meeting her eyes. "And before you say anything, it's not because I'm attracted to her."

"Fine," she sighed, putting up her hands in surrender, "let's go with your lie about not being attracted to her. You can't say that she doesn't pique your interest in some way, so would it be such a bad thing to go introduce yourself? You could satisfy your curiosity and make a friend at the same time."

He hated to admit it, but she had a point. "I guess you're right," he conceded, grudgingly. "Besides, it couldn't hurt to make a new friend. You're getting a little grating for my taste." Sam ignored her mock gasp of hurt and headed to the back to wash his hands. He dried his hands off and took off his apron before heading over to the mystery girl.

She was engrossed in the small book when he approached her, and he instantly felt awkward about interrupting her study session. He almost turned to go back behind the counter when he saw Santana shoot him a warning glance. Sam made a mental note to kill her at some point in the near future, after giving her a thank you hug.

"Hey there," he said amiably. She didn't move her eyes from the book, so he cleared his throat a few times. When she still didn't respond he felt his confidence drain as the awkwardness built. Was she ignoring him? Sam was close to giving up entirely when he saw her eyes shift from the book to his shoes, then rake slowly up his body until they came to rest on his face. He inhaled sharply, somehow feeling naked under the scrutiny of her doe eyed gaze.

"Oh," she said, finally, "hello there." She marked her place in the book and then gave him her patented warm smile, and he returned it with one of his own.

"Hi, I hope I'm not bothering you. I'm Sam, by the way," he introduced himself, extending his hand to her.

"I'm Mercedes," she said, giving his hand an impressively firm shake.

"Nice to meet you, Mercedes." Mercedes…he liked that name. He would never have guessed it, but for some reason he couldn't imagine her being named anything else.

"Have a seat, Sam," she urged him, gesturing to the empty chair beside her. He sat, trying not to think about how much he liked the way she said his name.

"So are you new here? I haven't seen you around until recently."

"Yup," she replied, shifting in her chair to face him. "I just transferred at the beginning of the semester."

He knew it; she had to be a transfer, he'd have seen her before. "Oh, that's cool. Where'd you transfer from?"

"NYU."

Sam was stunned. "Seriously?"

"Yeah…" she said, a bit of an edge to her voice, "Why? Do I not seem like I could be an NYU student?"

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant," he said, hurriedly. Great job insulting her, Sam; this has to be a record time, he chastised himself. "I just don't know why someone would leave a prestigious school in the middle of New York City for Greyson." He was relieved to see her relax at his explanation.

"Oh. To be perfectly honest, it was just too big, and it didn't live up to my expectations," she admitted. "And I like it much better here. There's just something about it."

"Fair enough." Sam shifted in his seat, weighing whether he wanted to say the one thing that's been on his mind. "I kind of figured you were new."

"How so?" Mercedes inquired, head tilted at an adorable angle. Adorable? Jesus, Sam…get it together.

He paused, choosing his words. "You seem…authentic." Sam shrugged, an embarrassed smile spreading across his face. "That might sound weird, seeing as I literally introduced myself to you less than five minutes ago, but it's true. You just seem kind of real and settled in who you are in a way that's definitely not the norm around here." He paused, hoping she'd react well to the fact that he basically told her he'd been thinking about and assessing her from afar.

"Thanks," she beamed at him, "that's really sweet of you to say." Sam almost sagged in relief. "So, you've been watching me, hmm?" Mercedes teased.

"I'm just really observant," Sam murmured, blushing as she laughed

Her laugh was so infectious he couldn't help but join in. "I think it's sweet, Sam."

"Why thank you, Mercedes," he replied, with a grin.

The pair fell into easy conversation and learned considerable amount about each other. Sam listened while Mercedes told him about her year at NYU and her experiences so far at Greyson. He laughed when she did impressions of her father's dramatic relief that her transfer school was also within driving distance from their New Jersey home and her little sister's hysterics every time she had to leave home at the end of a break. It caught him off guard how much Mercedes' face lit up when she talked about her major or the book she was starting to write. He decided the way her eyes sparkled and her nose scrunched up so the little stud caught the light was adorable, his inner monologue be damned.

Sam surprised himself by telling her the story of how he came to live with his aunt; he usually didn't like to talk about it. Something about her made him so comfortable that it seemed like a natural place to begin telling her about himself. He appreciated the genuine empathetic concern on her face as he recounted the tale of the accident; if there's one thing he couldn't stand, it was the pity people tried to mask as concern when they learned of his situation. He also talked about his struggle with dyslexia and how it led him to discover his aptitude for mathematics. Sam wasn't sure why, but it felt like he was having a conversation with someone he'd known for a few years, not a few minutes.

He was enjoying her story about her recent birthday when she paused.

"Shit!" Mercedes looked down at her phone before looking up with an apologetic expression. "Sorry! It's just that I have to meet a friend for a dinner study date in half an hour and I still have a few pages to get through." She grinned sheepishly. "I guess I lost track of time."

"Yeah, it definitely flew by," he agreed, trying to ignore the weird pang of jealousy he felt at the word date. "I didn't mean to take up too much of your time."

"Oh please," she waved his apology away, "it was fun. You're quite interesting, Sam…"

"Evans. Sam Evans," he said with a smile. "As are you, Mercedes…"

"Jones. Mercedes Jones," she said, in a pretty impressive James Bond impression at which he couldn't help but grin. "Oh, and feel free to interrupt me any time. But next time, be a gentleman and bring a beverage with you," Mercedes sassed with a flirtatious smirk.

"Yes ma'am," he replied in his best imitation of a Southern drawl, getting up to leave.

"Oh, and, Sam?" He stopped and looked back at her.

"You're cute, but leave the accents and impressions to me," she teased. He broke out in a dopey grin and nodded, heading to his place behind the counter.

Sam tied his apron back on and helped Santana finish the batch of orders she had been working on. Once everyone in line was served, he turned to see Mercedes gathering the last of her belongings. She caught his gaze and smiled, waving goodbye. He returned the wave and watched her leave the shop. Turning back, he noticed Santana watching him with an eyebrow raised and a hand on her hip.

"What?"

"You're a horrible liar."

"Excuse me?"

"You. Are. A. Horrible. Liar."

"I heard you, you jerk," he rolled his eyes, "but I'm not lying to you."

"You like her."

"Do not."

"Oh yeah? Then why is that dopey ass grin still on your face?"

She had him there. "Shut up," he muttered, turning to straighten the stock on the shelves behind him so she wouldn't see the blush creep into his cheeks. Suddenly, he realized that it was practically seven and his aunt hadn't come back from her appointment. It wasn't like her to be late; she was punctual with a schedule as neat as her home. Sam was starting to worry.

"Don't you think it's weird Aunt Em isn't back?" he asked Santana.

Her eyes widened in realization. "Holy shit, I didn't realize – it's been like two hours hasn't it?"

Sam was about to confirm that it had when Emma walked through the door.

"Hey you two," she chirped, brightly, "everything alright?"

"Yeah, Miss E…"

"Wonderful!" Emma smiled brightly at them, her cheeks flushed, and eyes sparkling. "I'm going to take care of some paperwork until about eight. If you need me I'll be in the office," she told them before breezing up the stairs.

Sam and Santana shared a look of utter surprise. She was never like this, especially after coming back from therapy; she was usually quiet and lost in thought.

"That was weird, right…"

"Definitely."

Mercedes picked up the pace, hating that she was already five minutes late. Tina wouldn't necessarily care, but she prided herself on being punctual, especially considering she was raised in a family that might as well have set their clocks to "CP" time.

She found herself fighting a losing battle to keep a sappy grin off her face when she replayed her conversation with Sam in her head. While she wasn't sure what made him approach her out of the blue, she was certainly glad he did. Mercedes hadn't expected Latté Boy to be so…candid. Sam was an open book; it was really very refreshing. He had her doing dorky impressions of her family members all of thirty minutes after she'd learned his name; she wasn't sure what to make of that level of natural comfort.

Of course it didn't hurt that he was especially easy on the eyes. Mercedes appreciated the way he didn't seem to realize how handsome he really was, or if he did it wasn't apparent. It made him that much more attractive. Then there was the way that he took all the negative things he's had to deal with in stride. It didn't seem like he really let any of it get to him; if anything he spun his circumstances into strengths. And she absolutely loved the way his face softened when he talked about his aunt; his affection for her was so endearing.

It scared Mercedes to think about how much they had learned about each other in under an hour, both from the stories they told and the way in which they told them. But it was a good kind of scary – the best kind – it left her wanting more.

She swiped into her dorm, rode the elevator to the eighth floor, and stepped into the common room. Tina had her notes out and was digging into some pad thai.

"Thanks for waiting, T," she said sarcastically, dropping her bag and sitting next to her. "What did you get me?"

"You're welcome," Tina grinned impishly. "The usual: pad kee mao with chicken," she replied, pointing towards the unopened take-out container with her chopsticks.

They ate in silence for a while until Mercedes noticed Tina had stopped eating and was openly staring at her.

"What?"

"Nothing…"

"Stop lying to me. What is it?"

"Nothing."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and went back to eating. The girls talked about classes and an upcoming talent show they were considering signing up for. There was no doubt their duet would win the five hundred dollar cash prize. They decided it would be a good idea to do it, even if they didn't win it would be fun, and they had a couple of weeks to pick a song and prepare. It was during another comfortable lull in the dinner conversation that Mercedes once again caught Tina staring at her.

"Oh my god."

Mercedes had had about enough of Tina's weirdness. "Good Lord Tina, what?"

"You talked to him."

The brown skinned girl decided it would be a perfect time to study the bright colors of the vegetables in her noodle dish.

"You did! I knew it!" Tina shot her a smug smile. "You probably flirted with him too, didn't you?"

"I-"

"Don't deny it. You're the best kind of flirt – subtle and natural. You probably don't even realize you're doing it."

"Tina!"

Tina was thoroughly enjoying flustering her usually unshakable friend. "Out with it, then. Spill."

Mercedes sighed and sunk back into her seat. She knew that Tina wouldn't give up until she heard the whole story; there was no use fighting it. So she told her everything, from noticing his shoes to waving goodbye, in as much detail as she could. And as soon as she began recounting their meeting, that sappy grin was back to being plastered across her face.

"Oh my god."

Mercedes didn't believe that anyone in the world was more dramatic than her younger sister until she met Tina. Though at least her friend's brand of dramatics was somewhat endearing – her sister just made her want to constantly roll her eyes.

"What now, Tina…"

"You like him."

"I do n-"

"Girl, if you don't stop lying to me right this second…"

"I think he's interesting, and that he could be a great friend. And sure, he is ridiculously good looking-"

"See!"

"But anyone with eyes would say that about him. He's like the dictionary definition of attractive." Especially his smile, she thought to herself. Her mind wandered to his winning smile and the way it crinkled the corner of his eyes, and the stark cherry coloring of his lips against his pale skin. He had quite the mouth.

It was Tina's turn to roll her eyes. "Okay. We'll pretend you're not drooling while thinking of him right now." She laughed while dodging the notebook Mercedes threw at her.

"Let's just get to work, Mercedes muttered, avoiding her eyes. She was relieved when Tina pulled out her notes and they began to outline their assigned chapters. She knew her friend wouldn't leave this alone for long, but she'd take the momentary reprieve from her assumptive interrogation. Quite honestly, she didn't know how she felt about him; she didn't know how she could decide based on a forty-five minute conversation. What Mercedes did know, however, was that she couldn't wait to see him again.

As AU as this fic is, denial is trait that followed Mercedes into this story, haha. And it seems Sam's caught the bug too.

Next chapter we find out what made Emma so damn happy, one of them stops lying to themselves, and we learn a little something interesting about one of the pair's best friends.

As always, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you take a little time to tell me what you think in the reviews!

-Em