Thank you all for the reviews. Okay I just want to say, that this story isn't as dark as people say. Yes Mercedes is going through some thins, and yes she hates her father, but it's not what you think. Just thought I put that out there. She does have a very valid reason which will be revealed of course. So I hope you enjoy this chapter. We finally get to meet Quinn and here what she has to say to Sam. And Mercedes comes to Sam's rescue...kinda. And Noah Puckerman makes a brief appearance.


Studying myself in the mirror for the hundredth time, I reminded myself that I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was taking a friend to a party. Not a girlfriend—just a friend. So being that this wasn't an official date with an official girlfriend, I figured there was no point in bringing it up with Mom and Dad. They would just make a big deal out of nothing. The way I saw it, I was doing them a favor. I entered the kitchen, where my parents were doing their best to pretend they weren't waiting on me.

"You look nice," Mom said. "Don't forget Santana's present."

"I left it in the car. And don't worry, I got it gift-wrapped."

"Who's chaperoning this party again?" Mom asked. "I know Charles and Gladys won't be there." I wiped my forehead.

"Um…I'm not sure…."

"Mary, leave the boy alone." Dad glanced over the top of a GolfSmith catalog. "Have a good time, Samuel." I started toward the door, but Mom blocked my path.

"Are you sure you don't want to eat before you leave?" The top of her head was level with the bottom of my chin. "They never have enough food at those parties."

"Mary!" Dad dropped his catalog and laughed. "Let the boy be." Mom smirked back at my father.

"He's a growing boy. He needs to eat." With the way my stomach was knotted up, I couldn't have eaten if I had wanted to.

"Really, I'm not hungry." I leaned over and pecked Mom on the cheek. "Plus, I really need to get out of here."

"What's the rush?" Mom winked at me. "You don't have some secret date you're not telling us about, do you?" Mom and Dad laughed. I didn't.

"I'd better go." I stumbled toward the door, my feet heavy. "I'll see you guys tonight." It isn't a date. Mercedes said so herself.

"Have a good time, honey," Mom said. "Don't stay out too late."

My stomach was still in knots when I arrived at Mercedes's aunt's house. I rang the doorbell, and Ms. Jones opened the door.

"Come in, Samuel. Mercedes should be ready in a few minutes."

Ms. Jones left me in the den while she went to get Mercedes. I picked up one of the pictures on the bookcase. It was of Mercedes from years ago. Maybe Mercedes didn't want to admit it, but there were times when she still looked a lot like the girl in the picture. I returned the photo to the bookcase as Mercedes entered the room. She placed her hands on her hips and struck a vogue pose.

"So, how do I look?"

"Wow" was all I was able to mutter. Her legs stretched for days, from the tips of her toenails to where her thighs disappeared under a crimson sundress. Three earrings sparkled in each ear, and a silver cross dangled from her neck, surrounded by a sea of brown skin. Mercedes spun in place, causing the dress to billow slightly around her.

"Like it?" I nodded. The dress wasn't necessarily tight, but it molded itself around every beautiful curve of Mercedes's beautiful body. She turned to her aunt, who had followed her into the room. "I forgot to charge my cell phone, so I'll probably have it off, to save juice. I've left Samuel's number on the fridge, if you need to get ahold of me."

"Great. That means Frank'll be calling here all—" Ms. Jones caught herself and looked at me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be bringing this up."

"It's okay. Mercedes and I are just friends." I smiled so wide the corners of my mouth hurt. "I've heard all about Frank."

"Then you know more about him than I do." Ms. Jones shook her head. "Y'all have a good time tonight." Mercedes grabbed her matching red purse from the couch.

"You're not going to ask me what time I'm coming home?"

"You're going out with Samuel," Ms. Jones said. "I don't have to ask."

Mercedes kissed her aunt on the cheek, and we left the house. I stopped Mercedes before she could step off the porch. She smelled like vanilla and honeydew and every other sweet scent God ever created.

"Are you sure this is okay?" I asked. "I don't want to make Frank jealous."

I hadn't wanted to ask about Frank, mainly because of my urge to projectile-vomit every time I heard his name. I was hoping they'd break up soon. But how do people who aren't even an official couple break up? Mercedes readjusted her purse strap on her shoulder.

"No offense, but you're not the type of guy Frank would get jealous over."

Ouch. She might as well have kneed me in my crotch. Mercedes brought her hand to her mouth.

"I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. It's just, you're such a good guy…." I waved her off and tried to put on a brave face.

"It's okay. You're not the first girl who's said something like that to me."

"The ex-girlfriend, right?" Mercedes sauntered toward me with a seductive sway. "Want to make her jealous? I'm really good at it." Mercedes's chest was literally millimeters away from my body. Does she even realize what she's doing to me? Why am I putting myself through this? I stepped away from her, trying to keep what little sanity I had.

"As much as I'd like to, I don't think it'd be honest for you to pretend you like me when you really don't."

"Who said I'd be pretending?" And then, very quickly, she winked at me. But then again, maybe she just had dirt in her eye.

I had washed the car earlier that day, but now Mercedes's sweet scent overtook the pine-scented air freshener I had sprayed all over the seats. I focused my gaze on the road, and tried not to become distracted by how Mercedes's dress slowly inched up her thighs. Mercedes didn't talk much during the ride; she spent most of the time playing with her necklace or fiddling with the radio. After flipping through a few stations, she settled on oldies.

"I love the old stuff," she said as Marvin Gaye wailed through the speakers. "It's so much better than most of the new crap they play nowadays."

About halfway through the song, my phone rang. Finn sure did know how to pick his moments. Reluctantly, I answered.

"Sam, where are you?" he yelled into the phone. I could hear music—the new crap that Mercedes had just put down—blasting in the background.

"We're on our way now."

"I need you to stop by the store and pick up something for me." The music immediately faded away; Finn must have found a quiet room. I switched hands so I could flip on the signal light.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Condoms." I was expecting him to ask me to pick up a bag of ice, not a pack of Trojans. I glanced at Mercedes out of the corner of my eye.

"And, um, what exactly do you need those for?"

"Take a wild guess."

"Finn…"

"I swear, if I'd known I'd be needing them, I would have gotten them myself. Santana sprang all this on me just a few minutes ago."

"This is her idea?"

"Yeah. Am I lucky or what?" He paused for a second as the music got louder. "I'll be there in a second," he yelled to someone. "Shut the door behind you." The music grew quiet again. "I'd go get them myself," he continued, "but I didn't drive." I glanced at Mercedes again.

"Finn, this really isn't a good time." There was an angry pause.

"For once, can you stop acting like a total choirboy and pretend to be my friend? I'd do the same for you." Finn was right, he'd do the same for me, although I seriously doubted I'd ever need to depend on him for condoms.

"Okay. Fine. Just tell me what brand you want me to get." He was silent for a few seconds.

"I don't know. I've never bought condoms before."

"Like I have?"

"Just get some Trojans. Or better yet, why don't you ask Mercedes? Knowing her, she probably has some in her purse." I sighed.

"Good-bye, Finn. I'll figure something out." I hung up before he could say anything else. Mercedes turned to me with a curious expression.

"Everything okay?" I tucked my phone back into my pocket.

"I need to stop by the store on the way to the party," I said, trying to keep my voice normal.

"What do you need?"

"Um…I want to pick up a pack of gum."

"I've got some Big Red," she said as she opened her purse. I thought about leaning over to take a quick peek inside, to see if she was actually carrying condoms, but before I could, she had already found the gum. She pulled out a piece and offered it to me. I popped it into my mouth.

"Thanks." As the strong, hot cinnamon flavor settled around my tongue, I noticed a convenience store to my left. Without even tapping the brakes, I swerved into the parking lot.

"Hey!" she yelled as she banged against the door.

"How about a little warning?"

"Sorry." I pulled up to the front of the store. "I want to grab a bottle of water. My throat's kind of dry."

"Don't you think there'll be water at the party?" I shrugged.

"Better safe than sorry."

"Okaaay." She opened her door. "Guess I'll grab something, too."

"No!" I yelled. "I mean, don't get out. I'll get you something—whatever you want." She settled into her seat.

"Samuel, is something wrong?"

"No, nothing at all. There's just no point in both of us getting out. That's all." She slowly closed the door.

"Well, do me a favor and grab me a Diet Coke."

"Be back in a second."

I couldn't get out of my car fast enough. I rushed into the store. Thankfully, the only person inside was the attendant, an older woman with sandy blond hair and heavy black mascara. I slowly headed toward the coolers, doing my best to discreetly peruse the aisles. Hormel Chili, NyQuil, SpaghettiOs—this place sold everything but condoms. I grabbed a Diet Coke and a bottle of water, and headed up another aisle. Still no condoms. I moved to another aisle.

"Need help with anything, sweetie?" the attendant asked after I had reached my third aisle. Her voice sounded bored.

"No thanks," I said.

Then I snapped my fingers, as if I had finally found what I was looking for, and picked up…a quart of motor oil. I continued around the store, looking and lingering. If I felt like I had stayed in one section for too long, I picked something else up. By the time I had made a complete loop around the store, I had added toothpaste, pliers, and a loaf of bread to my collection. The attendant cleared her throat as I passed by the front counter.

"If you're looking for the travel packets of medicine, we keep those up here."

Of course, I wasn't looking for medicine (although I had the feeling I'd be in desperate need of Pepto before the night was over), but I looked behind her. And there, in between the Marlboro Lights and Sudafed, sat the condom display. God wasn't going to make this easy for me. I shuffled up to her and tossed my items onto the counter. She arched an eyebrow as she began to ring me up, but didn't say anything. Finally, she swiped the last item and punched a few buttons on the register.

"This it, sweetie?" The moment of truth. Not looking at the woman, I nodded vaguely at the rack behind her.

"I'd like a pack of…condoms," I said. Only my words came out more like: I'd like a pack of…kudms.

"What did you say?" She leaned over the counter. "If you want cigarettes, you're going to have to show me some ID."

"No, not cigarettes." My voice seemed to echo throughout the store. "Condoms." She turned around and faced the display.

"Which ones you want, sweetie? We got extra-large, extra-thin, lubricated, ribbed, studded…" Studded? In my head, all I could see was a condom with a bunch of metal spikes attached to it.

"Uh…the lubricated is fine." She grabbed a box and swiped it over the sensor.

"We have to keep 'em back here, on account of all these damn teenagers. If they ain't trying to buy beer, they're stealing condoms."

After handing over my money, I glanced at the condom box as she piled it on top of the other stuff: Latex Luve. According to the small type, it was guaranteed to provide your partner with soul-shaking, lip-quivering, skin-tingling orgasms—or you could get your money back. The woman gave me my change, then pulled a very plastic (i.e., clear, transparent, see-through) bag from underneath the counter.

"By any chance do you have paper bags?" She smiled as she replaced the plastic bag with a paper one. After placing all the items in the bag, she handed it over to me.

"Have fun."

I thanked her and rushed out of the store. I probably didn't take a breath between the counter and the car.

"What took you so long?" Mercedes glanced at the bag. "What were you doing in there—grocery shopping?"

"Sorry." I pulled out our drinks, then crumpled the top of the bag and shoved it into the backseat.

"What's in the bag?"

"Nothing." I unscrewed the cap off my water and downed half the bottle. Mercedes eyed the bag, but didn't say anything as I backed out of the parking spot. Then, as soon as I put the car into drive, she twisted around and dove toward the backseat. I slammed on the brakes.

"No! Don't look in—" I started, but it was too late. She had already opened the bag. She smirked as she pulled out the condoms.

"I mean, I know I have a bad reputation, but isn't this a tad bit presumptuous?" I felt my face turning into a supernova.

"They're not for me. They're for Finn. He and Santana are going to…well, you know…"

"I think it's obvious what they're going to use them for." Mercedes dropped the box back into the bag.

"I'm just damn curious about what they're going to do with the motor oil and toothpaste." I tugged at my seat belt.

"See, I couldn't find the—"

"That was a joke, Samuel. You're supposed to laugh."

"Oh. Ha ha."

"By the way, good job with picking the lubricated ones. Your friend will thank you for it." For some reason, that didn't make me feel any better.

When we got to Santana's house, cars lined both sides of the street, but I was able to squeeze into a spot a few houses down from hers. I grabbed Santana's gift, and we began our walk up the hilly street to the three-story house. I thought about bringing along Finn's "supplies," but I figured it'd probably be better for him to come out and get them himself. At some point, Mercedes slipped her arm into mine. Her fingers squeezed ever so slightly—hard enough for me to take notice, but not so firm that it hurt. When we reached the house, I knocked on the door and rang the doorbell, but with the way the music blared, I was sure no one had heard us. After waiting a few seconds, I opened the door. The party was going full blast. As I dropped Santana's present onto the gift table, Mercedes asked.

"Do you know all these people?"

"No. Most of them are Santana's friends from school." Just then, Finn appeared from around the corner with Noah Puckerman, another friend of Santana's.

"There you are!" Finn yelled. He started to say something else, but after a quick glance at Noah, he shook his head and closed his mouth.

"Where's Santana?" I asked. Finn pointed upstairs.

"Changing clothes. She has four outfits she wants to 'debut' tonight." He took a swig of a red-colored drink. I hoped he was only drinking fruit punch, but I didn't want to ask.

"And who are you?" Noal asked, his eyes glued to Mercedes. Actually, his eyes were glued to her chest.

"Noah, this is my friend Mercedes," I said. "She just moved back to town."

"Nice to meet you," Noah said to her. "You want a beer or something? I know better than to assume the Boy Scout offered you a drink." Mercedes squeezed my arm again.

"I'd better pass on the beer, but I wouldn't mind a soda."

A soda? Had she forgotten about the twenty-ounce Diet Coke she sucked down on the way over here? Noah put his hand on Mercedes's free arm, a little too close to her chest.

"I was just headed to the kitchen." Mercedes glanced at the beer in Noah's hand before turning toward me.

"I'll be back in a second, okay? This'll give you and Finn a chance to…talk."

I watched as Noah pulled Mercedes away. It seemed like every pair of eyes in the room were focused on her as she slipped through the den and disappeared into the kitchen. Finn stepped closer to me.

"You get the stuff?"

"It's in the car, in a brown paper bag in the backseat. I left the door unlocked." He grinned.

"Thanks, man. I knew I could count on you."

"You should just be happy I decided to show up." I rubbed my neck and looked around the room. "Was Rachel ever able to talk your mom into letting her come to the party?"

"There's no way Mom was going to let Rachel come to a house party without chaperones. She barely let me come." Finn shook his head. "It's probably for the best that Rach isn't here. She would have had a fit if she had seen you walking in here with Mercedes draped all over your arm." I frowned.

"What does Rachel have against Mercedes? She's never even met her."

"You're kidding, right?" Finn chuckled. "Rachel's got a huge crush on you. Haven't you noticed?" I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Well, she has been giggling a lot…. "Y'all would make a good couple," Finn said. "Plus, I trust you more than any other guy she could date."

"But she's only fifteen."

"Santana and I were only fifteen when we started dating." Finn shrugged. "Of course, none of this matters, being that you're with Mercedes."

"I'm not with Mercedes. We're just—"

"Yeah, whatever." Finn started toward the door. "I'm going to get my condoms." I grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Finn, are you sure you want to do this?" He shook off my hand. "Sam, stop being such a prude. It's not like this is the end of the world. I'm going to be a senior in high school. I'm using protection. And I'll be losing my virginity to a girl I obviously care about, being that she's been my girlfriend for, like, two years." He shook his head. "I don't know who you've been hanging around with, but as far as high school goes, those are some pretty damn good reasons to have sex." Finn downed the rest of his drink. "There's a bunch of guys from the youth group on the patio. You should go out there and say hello—if you don't feel too holy to talk to us heathens."

I watched Finn march away. He was mad, but I knew he'd get over it—he was Finn. After he left, I turned and pushed my way through the crowd toward the patio. Santana was Catholic, but a lot of her friends went to Mount Calvary, and most were active with the youth group. But no one from the youth group had ever invited me to a birthday bash like this. I stepped onto the patio and approached the group.

Hey, guys," I said. Immediately, the conversation stopped and everyone stared at me.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Lena, our treasurer, stammered, her stubby fingers wrapped tightly around her beer bottle. "I didn't think you were the partying type."

I looked around the group. It was strange, seeing all these people outside of church. Most of the girls showed more skin than newborn babies. And everyone held at least one beer.

"I like a good party as much as anyone else," I said.

They mumbled and nodded, still watching me uncomfortably. James and Scott even tried to shift their beer cans behind their backs. I sighed.

"I really don't care if you guys drink," I finally said. Lena brought her hand to her chest, covering her half-unbuttoned shirt.

"You're not going to tell our parents, are you?" Who did she think I was, some kind of Christian gestapo?

"Of course I won't tell." Lena exhaled. "Thanks, Samuel."

A few of the others smiled. But still, no one drank. I tried to get a conversation going, bringing up every mundane topic imaginable. And there was plenty of room on the patio furniture for me to sit down, if only they would shift a little in their seats. No one shifted, though. Finally, I said good-bye and left the group. As soon as I was a safe distance away, I heard the conversation jump to a roar. I walked back to the patio door and looked at the group. Was it really that hard for them to be normal when I was around?

"Hey, Samuel." I froze, my throat suddenly dry. I didn't have to look to see who was standing behind me. I would have known that voice anywhere. I slowly turned around.

"Hey, Quinn." Quinn had only gotten prettier in the few months since I had last seen her. Her curly, blond hair had grown quite a bit and now reached the tips of her shoulders. Her cheeks had thinned out, making her look older, more mature.

"I figured I'd step outside for a minute, to try to cool down," she said. "But it's hotter out here than it is inside." I opened the door for her and followed her into the den. We gravitated toward the far corner of the room, as far away from everyone else as we could get. I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. I gestured to the drink in her hand.

"When did you start drinking?"

"Relax. It's just punch." She took a sip. "You know I don't drink alcohol."

I crossed my arms, unsure what to say. I could smell her perfume, but it wasn't a scent I recognized. While she took another sip of her drink, I scanned the den for Mercedes. I finally found her surrounded by Noah and a bunch of huge, no-neck, football player-type guys. She looked so at ease with them, grinning when they grinned, laughing when they laughed. She looked like she belonged.

"Is that your new girlfriend?" I turned back to Quinn. She had finished her drink. "The one in the red," she continued, looking in Mercedes's direction. "I saw you walk in with her." As much as I wanted to, I didn't lie.

"Mercedes's just an old friend. She's back in town for the summer. You remember her, right? Pastor Jones's daughter."

"That's Cedes Jones?" Her nose crinkled. "Wow. She's changed." A flash of anger shot through me.

"And what does that mean?" She kept her eyes on Mercedes.

"She's a preacher's kid. I expected her to dress more conservatively."

"Is that so?" I balled my hands into fists and stuffed them into my pockets. "So I guess preachers' kids are supposed to be the good kids, while everyone else gets to do whatever they want."

Quinn turned her gaze squarely on me but didn't speak for a few seconds. It used to be that I could tell exactly what she was thinking. Now her thoughts were a mystery.

"It was good seeing you, Samuel." She set down her ice-filled glass. "I'd better go. Shawn's probably looking for me."

"So you did bring him to the party." I looked around the room, although I had no idea what he looked like. "Why don't you introduce me?"

"I don't…Maybe that's not such a good idea."

"Why not?" My heart pounded in my chest, like it always did right before a basketball game. "It'd be rude of me not to meet the guy who's…" I paused, breathing hard and fast. "The guy who's screwing my ex-girlfriend."

As soon as I said it, I knew it was wrong. Wrong and rude and so unlike the good Christian boy I was supposed to be. But you know what—forget turning the other cheek. How about an eye for an eye? Quinn frowned, but not like she was mad. It was more like she felt sorry for me, which made me even angrier.

"Even though we aren't a couple, I thought we could be friends," she said. "You could try to be happy for me."

"I am happy. Isn't it obvious?" Quinn put her hand on my arm. Her touch felt foreign.

"You know, there's more to me and Shawn's relationship than sex," she said. "I love him. And I think its okay to sleep with someone you love." I shook her arm off.

"You can't be serious. You can't love him. You've only been dating him for four months."

"Samuel, stop acting like a jerk!" She crossed her arms. "I hate to burst your bubble, but it's your fault we broke up, not mine." Her voice exuded heat. "Do you know how many times I practically threw myself at you?" For a second, I forgot I was supposed to be mad at her.

"What?"

"Remember how often I conveniently forgot to wear my bra? Or how about that time I tricked you into coming over to my house when my parents were out of town?" She stepped closer to me. "I wanted more out of our relationship. And I know you did too—believe me, I could tell. But you refused to make a move. You refused to take things to the next level." Her words shot daggers into my skin. "It got to the point where I felt like I was dating my little brother instead of my boyfriend. I felt like a slut every time I thought about bringing up sex."

I blinked, trying to bring her words into focus. Mercedes was right. Quinn had tried to talk to me—to tell me that she wanted to get more physical. I just hadn't listened.

"But you know, it wasn't just the sex stuff that bothered me," she continued. "We couldn't kiss in public because you were worried how it would look. You wouldn't come to my house when my parents weren't home, because you didn't want the neighbors saying anything." She shook her head. "You were more interested in making other people happy—in doing the 'right thing'—than having a girlfriend. You cared more about the church and your parents' opinion than mine—or worse, your own."

I wanted to argue with Quinn, to tell her how wrong she was. But she wasn't wrong. Not at all. Not one bit.

"My father is the senior pastor," I finally said. "There are just some things I can't do—no matter how much I want to."

"I understand that. All I'm saying is, I never felt like I was dating the real you. I never knew what you wanted, what you believed. It was always about what the church wanted. What your parents wanted."

"You should have said something. Maybe I could have changed…." She laughed.

"Come on, Samuel. Let's be honest here. You are who you are." Then she looked thoughtful for a minute. "Actually, that's not fair. Maybe you could have changed. But deep down, I don't know if I wanted you to. Part of me worried that sex would change you—that you'd no longer be one of the good guys. And I didn't want to be responsible for that." I shook my head.

"This is crazy. One minute, you're telling me that you wanted me to be different; the next, you're saying that you wanted me to stay the same?" She smiled at me—a real, genuine smile. Then she grabbed my hand, and I stiffened.

"I wish we had had this conversation earlier," she said. "Maybe things would have been different. Maybe it could have worked out. Maybe—"

Quinn quickly released my hand as something behind me caught her eye. "Hey, Shawn."I spun around, and was immediately face to face with Quinn's giant of a boyfriend.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked. He was so big, his muscles had muscles. Quinn batted her eyelashes at him.

"No problems, Shawn. We were just chatting. Catching up."

"Chatting? Really?" He narrowed his eyes. "It looked like a lot more than that." I began to back away.

"Listen, I was just about to leave."

"Hey, don't run off on my account." He advanced toward me, the red punch in his cup sloshing to and fro. "Clearly, you and my girlfriend have a lot to talk about."

"Shawn, stop it," Quinn demanded. "We were only—"

"There you are," Mercedes said, suddenly appearing at my side. "I've been looking all over for you." Shawn paused as Mercedes wrapped her arms around my neck and pushed her body into mine. She leaned her head into me, her lips intimately close to my ear.

"You okay?" Each word she spoke tickled my skin. "Maybe we should get out of here. I'm ready whenever you are." I nodded. Then Mercedes unfolded herself from my body, took my hand, and led me out the door.