This is my standard disclaimer. I own nothing not the songs not the original work and not the TV show. Enjoy this entry for the letter I which is totes out of pocket for me… more chit lit than anything.

Chapter Two

Mercedes

I show up at the Treehouse Café a little after seven, cursing inwardly that I'm late. I'm a punctual person. It's almost a fault of mine, just how on time I am to everything I need to be at. My family? They're always late. My mother, my father, my brothers. They're a half hour late almost every single time. It's gotten to the point that I tell them an event is happening thirty minutes earlier, just so I can guarantee they'll be on time.

Once I was done with work, I went upstairs to my apartment, took a shower, and fell asleep in my unmade bed, all snuggled up and cozy under the blankets and wearing only my panties and bra. I woke up around six-thirty, my hair still damp and a tangled mess, drool dried on the side of my cheek. I only had to go down a couple of blocks to get to the restaurant, which took maybe ten minutes, tops, but I had to get myself presentable first, and that took a while.

I enter the restaurant and am led outside by the hostess. It's dark, the breeze from the ocean chilly. There are patio heaters set among the tables to keep everyone warm, though I'm grateful I brought a thin sweater. Glancing around, I spot Joe and Staci as I follow behind the hostess who's chattering away about how no one wants to sit inside tonight. I nod and smile when she looks at me from over her shoulder, stopping dead in my tracks when I see my friend and her fiancé sitting at a table. They're not alone.

Sam is with them. The seat beside him is empty, and I realize I've been set up.

I'm going to murder my best friend in her sleep. She'll never know what hit her.

But then I think of the consequences, and prison time doesn't sound fun, so I silently vow I won't do bodily harm to her.

Putting on a pained smile when Staci spots me and waves me over, I tell the hostess I've got it, and make my way to their table, stopping so I'm standing right in front of it. "Hey guys."

"Hey," Staci says as her fiancé stands and presses the quickest kiss on my cheek. Joe has become rather affectionate with everyone lately, and I think it's because he's so over-the-top in love with Staci.

"You look nice," he tells me as he settles into his chair once more and I sit across from him. "New dress?"

I glance down at the dress I'm wearing. It's simple and black, and yes, it's new. "It is. Thank you." I keep my gaze straight ahead, though I angle my body slightly toward Sam. "I didn't realize you'd be joining us."

"I didn't know you'd be with us either," Sam says, and I can hear the surprise in his voice, so I know he's just as clueless as me. I turn to look at him and I swear he's staring at my boobs. The pervert. He lifts his gaze so it meets mine, and I drown in his pretty green eyes for a second or five. "I'm glad you could join us."

He practically chokes those words out, so I'm sure it took everything out of him to say it. "Same." I wonder if he read my little message I wrote on cup. It was juvenile and silly, but I couldn't help myself. And truthfully, I didn't want him to poop himself. If he really is lactose intolerant, that's a terrible thing to deal with.

Joe and Staci keep the conversation flowing while we all look over the menus. I've only been here once before so I'm not sure what to order, and I hide behind the giant menu so I don't have to look at Sam. And then he can't look at me.

The server eventually appears, taking our drinks and appetizers order first, and we all order wine. Staci orders hummus and Joe orders grilled calamari and all I can think is my appetite has totally disappeared thanks to Sam's presence. All I want to do is drink.

But wine probably won't be my friend tonight if I drink too much of it, so I remind myself to keep it balanced. Wine, water, wine, water, water, water and that's it. I might end up peeing all evening, but it's better than getting drunk.

Last time I got drunk at a restaurant with Sam, bad things happened. Well, bad things that felt good, I should add. Bad things that probably shouldn't have happened.

Yeah, I can't explain it well, so let's just forget all about it.

The problem is I can't forget. As the evening progresses, all I can focus on is Sam. Every time I see him reach out and dip a wedge of pita bread in the hummus, I think of those long fingers touching me. Clearly he's not watching his wine intake tonight, because his cheeks are ruddy and his eyes are flashing and I can tell he already has a good buzz on. By the time our entrees are on the table and we're moaning and groaning about eating too much, I would say he's consumed too much wine and is well on the way to being full-blown drunk.

"Did your sister drive you here?" I ask him, my voice low so only he can hear me. Not like Joe and Staci are paying us any attention. They're too busy making lovey, kissy faces at each other.

"Are you concerned about my wellbeing, Mercedes?" He lifts his brows, those gorgeous green eyes locked on mine, and all I can do is stare at him in return.

"You're drunk," I tell him bluntly. "You probably shouldn't be on the road. Driving."

"I took an Uber," he says breezily, with an undercurrent of duh, Mercedes, of course I wouldn't drive drunk. How dare you accuse me of being so irresponsible?

He's so irritating.

"Thank God," I mutter. "I'm sure you'd be a terror on the road. Risking people's lives and all."

"I've never driven drunk in my entire life," he says, now sounding indignant. "I'm actually insulted you'd think I'd do something so awful."

"So you're a responsible drinker," I say.

He nods. "Of course."

"You don't do anything risky when you're drunk."

His repeated nods start to slow. "Not…usually."

We both grow silent, and the silence isn't comfortable. Because we're both thinking about that night, and how we both drank and did something risky. Like have sex with each other.

Yeah.

"You two are awfully quiet," Staci teases, knocking us both out of our memory-induced trance. We both swivel our heads to face her, completely in sync, and I want to curse and stomp my foot over how freaking compatible we seem.

But all that compatibility has to be a lie, or else we'd actually be together, right? Blissfully in love like the two people sitting across from us.

What I'm feeling for Sam isn't anything close to love. No, more like I want to test my theory and make him a latte with whole milk to see how long he lasts until he has to scurry off to the bathroom.

I'm evil. Lord, I really am.

The server reappears, asking us if we want more wine, and the entire table practically shouts a resounding no. Staci asks for a to-go box, and once the server is gone, we go silent again.

"You know, there's something I was hoping we could discuss tonight," Staci starts, and the nervous tone of her voice immediately leaves me on edge. If it was about the wedding, she'd be giddy and bouncing in her seat. This sounds like bad news, and I'm not in the mood for bad news.

"What is it?" I ask when no one else has said anything.

"Well, you know Joe and I have been talking about moving in together for quite a while now, especially since we're getting married so soon. We've discussed when I'm going to move into his house, but I wanted to talk to you about it first. Make sure you were okay." Staci hesitates for only a moment. "I've kept putting Joe off because I didn't want to leave you alone," she further explains.

I'm momentarily shocked. She didn't want to leave me alone? I'm a grown-ass woman—I can take care of myself. Yes, I love having Staci living with me. We binge watch Netflix, and then there's Sunday face mask night, and we bought all the stuff so we can give each other gel manicures and don't have to go to a salon. In the summer there's Margarita Mondays and we've taken to walking and gossiping instead on the beach. It was like having a built-in favorite sister, and since we both don't have sisters, it's worked out really great.

"I've always told you that I understand why you want to live with Joe," I say slowly, hoping she doesn't think I've held her back.

"I know, and you've been so supportive." There are actual tears forming in Staci's eyes as she reaches out and settles her hand over mine. "It's so much fun being your roommate. Part of me not leaving any sooner are my own issues. I knew I'd miss you so much."

I try to fight my own tears, because I know we're being ridiculous. We will see each other pretty much every day. She's still going to work at Noteworthy because she practically owns the place now, and we'll get together with our friends for brunch and drinks.

But it won't be the same as living together, and we both know it.

"I'll miss you too." I squeeze her hand, proud that I'm suppressing my tears. I don't want to look weak in front of Sam, though I shouldn't give a darn about what he thinks of me. "Is this your way of telling me that you're finally moving in with Joe?"

Staci's laugh is watery and she sniffs, wiping the tears away from her eyes with her free hand. "Yes, but I have the best idea for your next roommate."

I remove my hand from hers, grabbing my water glass so I can drain the last of it before our server returns with the to-go box and our check. I'm about to grab it when Joe swipes it right from under my nose. I send him a look but he silently shakes his head at me before grabbing his credit card from his wallet and handing it to the still waiting server.

"Thank you for dinner," I tell Joe before I turn my attention to Staci. "Who exactly are you thinking of?" My mind runs through a collage of our friends' faces, but every single one of them has their own place already, so I'm not sure who she could be talking about. Santana, maybe? I know she's complained about living with her roommates recently. I take one last sip of my water.

"Well." Staci looks from me to Sam, then back at me again. "I was thinking my brother should move in with you."

I spit the water out, some of it spattering Staci's face, and she immediately throws her hands up to cover herself. "Mercedes, what the hell!"

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." I snag the napkin from my lap and wipe at my face, then lean over the table to offer it to Staci, who's dropped her hands by now. She shakes her head and grabs her own cloth napkin, delicately wiping at her face until all traces of water and my saliva is gone. Joe appears both shocked and amused, I'm guessing because I just gave a literal spit take.

But seriously, did she really just suggest Sam move in with me? Notice how quiet he is right now, hmmm?

"Hear me out," Staci says, holding up a hand as I'm about to say something. AKA argue. I immediately clamp my lips shut. I'll let her explain herself and then tell her no.

Easy peasy.

"Sam is currently staying at the Hart Hotel in Pebble Beach, but he doesn't want to stay there forever. It's temporary. Just like if he moved in with you, it would be temporary, you know? Plus, my old bedroom is going to be empty and he could cover my rent. And within a couple of months tops, he'll figure out what he wants to do, where he wants to live, and he'll move out," Staci says, sounding perfectly logical.

Yes, I can agree her idea is logical. Practical. All those cal words. But I can't live with Sam. No way. No how. This is a man I've kissed. With tongue. A man who's had his mouth on my vagina. A man whose penis has been inside my body.

A man who's given me orgasms and seen my face when I have them. Who's muttered dirty words in my ear and stroked my clit just so.

Nope.

No sir.

Can't do it.

"I don't know if this is a good idea, Staci," Sam says, his deep, rumbly voice making things inside of me rumble pleasantly in return. Curse his sexy voice to hell, I swear. "We don't get along that well."

"That's not true," I tell him, then clamp my lips shut. Why am I protesting? Honestly though, what he said isn't true. We got along too well that night, though it's not like we're going to have any repeat performances. It would be an absolute disaster, the two of us in that small apartment together. He'd make me crazy. I'd make him crazy.

We might have sex again.

No, no, no. That won't happen. I look over at Staci, who's studying me with a concerned look on her face and I immediately feel bad. I'm usually so easygoing. With anyone else, I'd be like sure! Move in!

Not Sam. Not after what happened between us.

I just don't want Staci thinking I hate her brother.

Okay, fine, I definitely don't hate him. I just hate how I react to him when he's close. I hate that we had the most amazing sex of my life, and he walked away like it didn't even matter to him. I hate that he is turning me on just sitting next to me, yet he acts like I don't affect him whatsoever.

Oops. Yeah, I hate him. A lot.

"Come on, Merce. Be real right now. Can you imagine us living together?" He raises his brows and I stare at him, trying to understand what he's trying to tell me. That yes, it would be totally amazing for us if we lived together, or it would be his every living nightmare?

"It might not be so bad," I say, wanting to smack myself.

"You really believe that?" He quickly glances over at Staci. "You two used to try and prank me when we were younger. I woke up with my hand in a glass of warm water once."

Oh right. The time we tried to get him to pee the bed. We read about that trick on the internet, but it didn't work. "We were kids."

"It wasn't that long ago," he taunts. "You might try something like that again."

"Please." I meet his gaze, see the challenge in those pretty hued depths. My own take that attitude rises up and I say to him, "I've grown up a lot since then."

The pointed look he sends me says he agrees, and I look away from him, my face growing warm.

"Then why the message on my cup?" he asks.

"What message?" Staci asks.

I turn to face Sam once more. "It was genuine concern," I tell him, my voice extra sweet. "Pooping your pants would be terrible."

"What are you guys talking about?" Staci sounds totally confused.

We're not even paying attention to her.

Joe cough-laughs into his fist.

"We've really never gotten along," Sam says, his gaze never wavering from mine. "Living together would be an absolute nightmare."

Ouch. Does he really think living with me would be that terrible?

"Maybe you're the one who's a complete nightmare. I'll have you know I'm an excellent roommate," I say, lifting my chin.

"It's true," Staci chimes in, like the best friend she is. "And Sam is pretty easy to live with too. Minus his slobbish ways."

"I was seventeen for the love of God," he groans. "We haven't lived together for years, and you're always going to hold that against me?"

I turn so quickly, I almost give myself whiplash. Why is she pushing for this? It's a terrible idea. "Really, Staci?"

Her expression falters and I can see the cogs turning in her brain. "Maybe?"

"Don't bother trying to convince her, Stace," Sam says, slowly shaking his head. "She won't budge. Mercedes is very stubborn."

"I am not." If I was a bird, I would shake my body, desperate to get my ruffled feathers back into place.

"Yeah, actually you are. Look at how you're acting at this very moment." He leans in close to me, his mouth right at my ear, and my entire body heats up. The server returns, handing Joe his credit card along with the receipts and making small talk, but all I can focus on is the warmth of Sam's breath on my skin, and how my own breathing is accelerating. "You're arguing with me for no good reason, and you know it."

"Fine, move in with me then." I turn to look at him, startled by how close our faces are. He backs up a little, as if he's surprised too, and we blink at each other for one long second. Then another one. Then another one…

"Did you two just agree to be roommates?" Staci is practically squealing, she's so happy. "This is great! I think you two are really going to help each other out by living together for a while."

I say nothing. Shit, did I just challenge him to move in with me?

"I'll move my stuff out this weekend, and Sam can immediately move in," Staci continues animatedly. "I knew this would work out perfectly!"

He never says another word. The satisfied smile curling Sam's lips has my hackles rising, and I'm tempted to reach over and slap it off his face.

But I don't. I'm too busy being pissed over the fact that he's goaded me into saying he can move into my apartment. He did some sort of reverse psychology on me, and the worst thing is, it freaking worked.

I got played.

Sam

"I'm so glad you're moving in with Mercedes." Staci beams up at me, patting my cheek with her hand, hard enough to make a smacking noise. I try to tilt my head away from her, but she's too close. "I would worry about her living alone, but not with you there. You'll protect her."

We're standing outside in front of the restaurant. Joe is trying his best to steer Staci to his car, but she wanted to tell me yet again how happy she is, that I'm moving in with her best friend.

At least someone is.

"Let's get you home." Joe grabs hold of my sister's arm and pulls her away from me. She goes to him easily, snuggling up close, her hand resting on his chest as she gazes up at him adoringly. He leans down, drops a kiss to her upturned lips, and I look away before I have to see anything too romantic.

I am that guy who's uncomfortable with couples and their outward displays of affection. Our family isn't big on loving gestures. Mom didn't tell us she loved us all that often, and we aren't big huggers. Naturally, I'm not much for public groping or cuddling. Neither was Staci.

Until she got with Joe.

It's surprising, to see how easily she goes to him. How accepting she is of his arm around her shoulders, his mouth on hers. It's not really a big deal, I suppose. It's late at night, and no one else is around. The only one they're being affectionate in front of is me, and I'm family. No big deal, right?

I think about the women I've dated in the past. Try to imagine kissing and hugging on them in front of my sister. In front of my sister and Joe. I don't see it. Not at all.

An image of Mercedes appears in my head, unbidden. Her snuggled up close, my arm around her waist, my mouth resting against her forehead as I breathe in the sweet scent of her hair…

"Thank you for coming to dinner with us," Staci says, waving at me. "I'll call you in the morning."

I wave at her in return. Say goodbye to Joe. Watch them walk down the sidewalk toward Joe's parked car. Joe opens the door for Staci, she climbs inside, he gets into the driver's seat and then they're off.

And I wait.

Scrolling through my phone, I keep one eye on the screen and the other on the entrance to the Treehouse Cafe. Most of the tables outside are empty. A couple exits the building, the woman's laughter low and seductive, and I watch as they disappear around the building, headed down the nearest cross street. A cool breeze wafts over me, bringing with it the briny scent of the ocean and I reconsider my plan.

But then the door swings open and out walks Mercedes, her shoes clicking in the otherwise quiet night. She's completely unaware of the fact that I'm standing only a few feet away from her, and I realize quickly I don't want to scare the crap out of her.

"Merce." I step out of the shadows, revealing myself, and she shrieks when she spots me, her arm going back almost reflexively, her purse dangling from her fingers like she was going to slug me with it.

"Sam, you scared me!" She drops her arm to her side, her other hand going to rest against her chest. I can only imagine how hard her heart must be pounding.

Wincing, I shift closer to her. "I'm sorry. I tried not to."

A big sigh leaves her and she tilts her head, contemplating me. "Waiting for your Uber?"

I haven't even ordered one yet. "Sure."

She looks around, and I wonder if she's trying to avoid my gaze. "Want me to wait with you?"

I'm surprised she'd offer. "I'm good. I just—I wanted to make sure you're not angry. With me." When she sends me a questioning glance, I explain myself further. "Angry that I'm now your roommate."

"Well, you did sort of trick me." She moves so she's standing right beside me, both of us facing the mostly abandoned street. "But it's fine."

"Is it really?"

"I suppose." She wraps her arms around her waist as if she's trying to ward off that cool ocean breeze, and I'm half tempted to pull her in close to me to warm her up.

But I don't.

"You don't plan on staying at the apartment for long, do you?" she asks after we're quiet for a moment.

"Of course not." Honestly? I have no idea. I have no plan of action for once in my life, and I feel a little…lost.

Not that I'd admit that to anyone. Certainly not to the woman I'm standing next to.

"As long as you stay out of my hair, we'll be fine," she says with all the reassurance I'm searching for. "And I'll stay out of yours."

"I won't be home much," I tell her, though I have no idea if that's the truth. "You'll barely have to deal with me."

"Perfect," she says, turning to look at me. "That sounds ideal."

I'm irritated by her cool demeanor. How she almost acts like she doesn't want me there. This shouldn't surprise me. She's mad and I can't blame her. I messed up. Worse, I never apologized for what I did, which makes me an asshole.

"Can we start over?" I ask her, like a complete idiot. I should just say sorry. Right here. Right now. Her brows wrinkle like I've just confused her so I keep talking. "Put everything in the past where it belongs and start fresh?"

Now her delicate brows are arching upwards. "You want to pretend that what happened between us a year ago…never did?"

"Exactly," I say with an enthusiastic nod.

Her arms dropping to her sides, she turns to face me, her finger darting out to poke me in the chest. "You wish it was that easy. I'm not the type to forgive and forget, Sam."

I'm shocked by the hostility in her tone, but I tell myself I shouldn't be. "Okay, I get it. You're right. What happened between us last year—shouldn't have."

"Right. So you want to forget everything." The hurt on her face is unmistakable. "I should tell your sister I don't want you living with me after all. And I should tell her the exact reason why."

She starts to walk away, but I'm faster than her. I catch up easily, walking beside her, matching her brisk pace. "I didn't phrase that correctly."

"I think you phrased it exactly the way you feel about this. About us. About me." Mercedes comes to a stop and so do I. Her eyes are narrowed and her lips are pooched as she contemplates me. "I'm your dirty little secret. Don't worry. We never have to talk about it again."

Mercedes shakes my hand off her arm and stalks off, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk, looking this way and that before she darts across the road, toward Sweet Dreams and her—soon to be our—apartment above it.

Well. I handled that pretty badly, now didn't I?