Thank you for your continued kind support. I would also like to say a warm welcome to any new readers and any new reviewers.
I hope this chapter finds you and yours in peace and safety.
Standard disclaimer.
Long chapter...
Mercedes barely recognized herself in the red dress she was wearing. The deep hue made her eyes sparkle and flattered her brown complexion and dark hair.
The material was heavy, concealing any kind of unsightly bulges, but didn't feel like she was wearing a curtain.
"You look beautiful," Quinn said, putting the finishing touches to her up-do...a silvery clip that held her curls up. "The dress is fantastic."
The dress was fantastic.
"I can't believe he bought this. Such a wa..."
"If you say waste of money, I will disown you." Quinn turned her around and stared at her hard. "It's wonderful that he would do something like this. I think it's romantic. You're going to have a wonderful time, hanging out with the players and glamorous people."
Mercedes swallowed, but her throat was dry.
Butterflies were bouncing around her stomach, like they were trying to find a way out.
She'd met Noah and some of the other guys, but the idea of hobnobbing with all of them, made her want to hurl.
"Is Sam picking you up from my place?" Quinn asked. She nodded.
"Yeah, it's actually closer to his and made sense, since you were doing my hair."
Quinn grinned at her.
"Gawd girl, you are so damn lucky. I hope you realize that. Sam is a hell of a catch. I'm jealous."
An ache pierced Mercedes' chest, and she turned back to the mirror, blinking rapidly and hoping she didn't ruin her mascara.
This whole thing was almost over.
It was three days from Christmas and tomorrow was the last day of work for her, before the holiday break. Then there was New Year's and the Gala.
Sam probably wouldn't even be around for the Smithsonian event.
According to Miss Wilde, the Nationals were thrilled with his improvement.
There was no more talk about canceling the contract, and the publicist fully believed, that after tonight, his image would be repaired.
And what had that evil woman said the last time she'd seen her?
'Sam will probably get the public's sympathy when you guys split, so this will work out wonderfully.'
God, she hated that woman with a passion.
"Mercedes?" Quinn's voice intruded. "Are you okay?"
Mercedes' mouth opened. She wanted to tell Quinn the truth so badly, but how could she?
It wasn't like Quinn didn't know she'd gotten in trouble over the student loans, but how could she tell anyone, that everything that had been between her and Sam, had been completely fake?
Except the passion...she was pretty sure that was real.
She forced a smile.
"You don't think this dress is too much?" Quinn barked out a short laugh.
"Okay. Something is definitely wrong with you, if you're asking if any piece of clothing is too much. This is actually pretty tame for you."
It was.
With black beading over the heart-shaped bodice, it was nothing like the flamboyant style, she usually relied on.
"You look great, Mercedes."
"Thank you." She left the bathroom and took a deep breath. "I guess I'm just feeling tired."
Quinn nodded.
"Well, you better pep up, because you need to enjoy yourself. Seriously...you and Sam are like a Cinderella story."
Mercedes laughed.
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Whatever. It's totally..."
A knock on her front door cut off Quinn's words.
She let out a low squeal and spun towards the entrance before Mercedes could blink.
Quinn eagerly opened the door, seeing Sam standing there.
"Hellooo..." she purred.
Mercedes peered around the corner, and her heart sped up. Her mouth also dropped open and there might have been a little drool.
Sam was in a tux and he was everything, any female on the planet could imagine and more.
His broad shoulders really filled out the jacket, in ways most men couldn't. It was a perfect fit, cut just right for his body and his body alone.
With his hair artfully messy and his lips tipped in a half smile, he looked like he stepped right out of a movie or something...or right out of a fairy tale.
Sam extended a hand to Quinn.
"Nice to finally meet you."
She murmured something unintelligible and spun around, mouthing the words 'Prince Charming', before spinning back to him.
"You're even better looking up close. Most people aren't, but wow, you definitely make the cut."
Mercedes grinned.
Taking Quinn's outburst good naturedly, Sam laughed.
"Well, I'm glad to hear I make the cut."
As he stepped passed her, she checked him out from behind.
"Yeah, you definitely make the cut."
That was enough in Mercedes' books. If she didn't intervene, there was a good chance Quinn would start touching him.
Stepping out into the hall, she gave him a short, awkward wave.
Sam stumbled a little. Mercedes had never seen him stumble.
He drew up short and swallowed hard, as his gaze drifted over her.
"You look...absolutely beautiful." She felt the heat creep over her face.
"Thank you."
"You both look great." Quinn reappeared, holding her phone. "I want a picture."
"This isn't prom, Quinn," Mercedes muttered. Sam chuckled, as he held his arm out to Mercedes.
"Come on over here. Let's get our picture taken."
Shooting her friend a look, which was subsequently ignored, Mercedes slipped up to Sam's side.
His arm went around her waist, and he pulled her closer, tucking her against him.
Quinn squealed, as she held up the phone.
"Smile!"
After a couple of pictures, Quinn swore wouldn't end up on her Facebook or anywhere else, Mercedes and Sam said their good-byes.
On the way out, Mercedes grabbed a lacy black shawl, and Sam helped drape it over her shoulders.
"It's pretty chilly outside," he said. "You sure this is enough?"
She nodded.
He smiled slightly.
"That's right. You hate jackets."
"They're just so bulky," she said.
Since Quinn had a first-floor apartment, it didn't take long for her to discover just how cold it had become, since she'd arrived at her friend's place.
Outside, she clutched the ends of the shawl together and inhaled deeply.
"It smells like..."
"Snow?" he cut in, grinning at her.
Mercedes looked at him and felt her heart do that damn little jump again.
"Yes. It smells like snow."
"I heard that there might be snow for Christmas. I can't remember the last time we had a white Christmas."
Mercedes couldn't, either.
Snow in any real amounts, didn't usually fall until February, and if it was more than an inch, the entire town shut down.
Sam opened the door for her, but caught her arm, before she could climb in. He leaned in, his lips brushing her temple.
"I'm torn," he said.
"About what?" His lips curved against her skin.
"I can't decide if you look better in that dress, or with it pooled around your ankles."
Mercedes was suddenly hot, in the near freezing temperature.
'Damn it!'
She had been trying desperately, to forget about those minutes in the dressing room and here, he had to bring it up.
Liquid fire licked at her, magnified, when he placed a hand on her hip.
"Mmm," he murmured. "I'm going to go with it, lying on my bedroom floor."
Her breath went out in an unsteady rush.
"You haven't seen that." Sam pulled back and there was a cocky grin on his face.
"Not yet."
Christmas was everywhere.
As they walked into the fancy hotel, hosting the event, Mercedes was caught up in all the glitz.
Garland twisted around the lampposts.
Icicle lights hung from the fronts of buildings, glimmering like hundreds of polished diamonds.
In the tiny park, splitting the congested streets, a decorated Christmas tree glowed brightly.
While Mercedes wasn't a huge fan of the holiday, she did love all the shiny things.
Most of the year, the city was dull and drab, but come Christmas, the entire town sparkled.
And this hotel was really sparkling.
The Christmas tree in the lobby glimmered gold and silver, so bright and beautiful.
"You like it?" Sam murmured in her ear, placing a hand on her lower back.
She nodded, as they stopped in front of the massive tree.
"It's beautiful."
"I like the trees that are all different colors. You know, the kind that really doesn't have a theme to them. Marley's parents have a tree like that, bulbs just thrown up on it. Mismatched tinsel and a star that is always crooked."
Mercedes smiled.
She'd met Marley's parents a few times, and they'd been a riot.
She couldn't imagine what Christmas was like at their house. Probably involved decorating bomb shelters and general craziness...the good kind of craziness.
"You know, I always do Christmas Eve at their place, right? It's tradition."
Yes. She knew that.
"And this year..."
"I'm not going to Marley's house for Christmas," she said, stepping away from him. "No way is that happening."
Sam's brows puckered.
"Do you have plans?"
Did she have plans? She almost laughed.
She'd be doing the same thing she did on Christmas, for the last nine years.
"It's not important. So where's the big party?"
Sam watched her for a moment and then took her hand.
"Let's get this show on the road."
Mercedes wasn't sure, how to prepare herself for this event, but she soon realized nothing could have.
They were rushed the moment, they stepped into the glittery ballroom.
She was introduced to so many people, she couldn't keep their faces straight, or remember their names.
A glass of champagne was handed to her and then another.
Being on the arm of Sam Evans, was really like being with a rock star.
It was obvious everyone loved him, or at least looked up to him, especially the younger teammates. They were in awe of him.
Pictures were taken, one after another, and she knew a whole boatload of them, would be in the newspaper and on the web within hours.
When the manager of the Club introduced himself, Mercedes glanced at Sam.
Nothing in his expression changed, but he stiffened just the slightest.
"How're you doing?" he said, extending his free hand.
"Great. I'm glad to see you here with such beautiful company."
The manager shook Sam's hand and then turned to Mercedes. The man's face crinkled, as he smiled.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet the woman, who has gotten this old dog to behave." Mercedes couldn't help but grin, as she shook the manager's hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, too. The event is lovely."
"And she's well-mannered." The man's brows lifted, as he clapped Sam on the shoulder. "You're a lucky boy. I hope to see her at the games in the spring."
Sam replied, but Mercedes really didn't hear him.
Forcing her smile to remain on her face, she hated the suddenly heavy feeling in her chest.
She wouldn't be at the games in the spring.
Or if she happened to go to one...which she doubted she would...it wouldn't be in the context the manager hoped for.
Heart heavy, Mercedes excused herself to find the ladies' room.
It was blissfully empty, as she smoothed down some of the fly-aways, that were popping up all over her head and ordered herself to pull it together.
She hadn't wanted to do this in the first place, and she should be thrilled it was almost over.
But she wasn't.
It had nothing to do with the glamorous life Sam lived...the dinners, the nights out, and all the attention...what she was going to miss...was him.
Heading back into the ballroom, she got another glass of champagne, thinking the liquid courage could help, and scanned the glitzy room for Sam.
There were so many men in tuxes, it was like a sea of hotness.
Quinn was going to be so disappointed she didn't score an invite.
"Excuse me," came a soft, feminine voice.
Turning to the sound, Mercedes discovered, she was surrounded by what you typically found in a sea of male hotness...its counterpart...
The beach of ridiculously hot babes.
She squared her shoulders, expecting an onslaught of catty remarks and probably a lecture, on how bad Sam was at relationships.
God only knew, if he'd slept with any of these women.
"You must be Mercedes." A slender blonde extended a delicate hand.
Dressed in a tiny black dress, she looked like a movie star next to her.
"We've been hearing so much about you."
"Not from Sam. He's not the kiss-and-tell type," another woman said. Mercedes thought her name was Tammy from an earlier introduction.
"I love the dress," another woman said, her slanted eyes heavily lined with Kohl. "It's such a beautiful color."
Mercedes opened her mouth, but was unsure of what to say.
"I'm so glad he's found someone," a raven-haired beauty said. "Sam needs a good woman."
Mercedes was stunned.
A woman with toffee-colored skin, stepped forward with a wide smile.
"I'm sorry. You're probably like, 'what the hell' with all of us converging on you. We just get excited, whenever there's a chance we might outnumber the men. My name is Debra." She extended a hand. "My husband is number fifteen...shortstop. Drew Salas."
Mercedes took the hand, recognizing the husband's name.
"It's nice to meet you."
Debra smiled broadly and made a round of introductions, that were a blur to her.
"We should do brunch sometime or dinner...you work, right?"
She nodded, as another woman grinned.
"Or, will Sam let you out of his sight long enough? Because, he looks like the kind of man, who likes to keep his woman busy."
Heat stole across her face, an instant before Sam came up behind her, slipping an arm around her waist.
"You doing okay over here?" he whispered, and when she nodded, he spoke louder, addressing the horde of beautiful and surprisingly nice women. "All of you look lovely tonight."
Debra's eyes rolled. "Sam...forever the charmer."
"He needs to talk to my husband," Tammy added, and several of the women laughed. "You know what Bobby said to me tonight? That I looked like the best cut of steak." Her eyes rolled. "You can take the boy out of Texas, but you can't take Texas out of the boy."
"Being compared to steak, is one of the highest forms of flattery," Sam explained, giving them his best grin.
The one that hooked, lined, and sunk about a thousand women.
"I hate to do this, but I'm going to steal Mercedes."
"Have fun." Debra smiled. "I have to go find my husband. Our babysitter charges by the half hour. I'm pretty sure we've paid for her college by now."
After a round of good-byes and a promise to get Debra's phone number to set up brunch...people still ate brunch? Mercedes was alone with Sam again.
He tucked back a flyaway curl.
"You ready to get out of here?"
"Only if you are," she said.
Even though her heels were killing her, she didn't want to rush him off. And besides, when every evening ended, it brought them one more night...
She cut herself off. She wasn't going to think about that now.
"I am." He took the glass from her. "Let's see if we can make a clean escape."
She let him take her hand, and keeping to the edges of the ballroom, they made it all the way outside, before anyone noticed them.
A light snow had begun to fall, as they hurried past the waiting photographers.
Sam helped her in the vehicle and buckled her in again, which caused a flurry of cameras to go off.
She shot him a dirty look, which he returned with a smug, knowing grin.
Once inside the car, he turned to her.
"So, how do you think tonight went?"
Assuming he meant his contract, she smiled, as she slipped the shawl off and folded it in her lap.
"I think you're not going to have any problems. Everyone seems impressed with the new, more well-behaved Sam."
He chuckled.
"I wasn't talking about that. I meant in general."
"Oh." Her smile spread. "It was so much fun. People were really nice."
"Were you expecting them not to be?"
She considered that.
"I guess so." Then she laughed. "Debra invited me out to brunch."
His answering grin warmed her.
"You should go."
"Not..." She trailed off.
"Hmm?"
She shrugged.
It seemed obvious to her, but maybe Sam wasn't even thinking about it, in the way she was. And she needed to stop thinking about it completely.
Glancing at him, she was struck again, by his masculine beauty.
Even while he was driving, the look of concentration that pulled down his brows and narrowed his eyes, stirred heat within her.
She thought about what he'd done to her...for her...in the dressing room.
And her pulse picked up.
Maybe, it was the memories of his wonderful fingers and the pleasure he had given her.
Maybe, it was the champagne she'd drunk and the great evening she'd had with him.
Maybe, it was because Sam was hot, and she wanted to do for him, what he had done for her.
Who knew what gave her the idea, but Mercedes was going to go with number three and not look back.
She'd decided some time tonight, that she wanted as many memories as she could gather, before their time together ended.
She'd need them for the cold winter nights alone, in her near future.
So before she lost her nerve, she reached over while they waited at a red stoplight, placing her hand on his upper thigh.
Sam's head whipped in her direction.
One single brow went up. And she gave him what she hoped, was a sexy smile.
His eyes locked with hers, and she took a deep breath.
Blood pounding, she slid her hand up his leg and cupped him through his trousers.
Sam's hips bucked, and he groaned.
"What...what are you doing, Mercedes?"
She bit down on her lip, as she ran her thumb up his length. The man was already hard as a rock.
"Just repaying you."
"Repaying me?" he said hoarsely.
Leaning over farther, she got her other hand involved in the fun and pulled the zipper down. The button was next and...holy momma...Sam was commando and all but straining toward her.
Mercedes' gaze drifted up.
"The light's green, Sam."
"Yeah, green means go." He hit the gas, but he was barely doing the speed limit.
Meanwhile, she eased him out of his pants, sliding her hand up and down his hard length.
Moisture built at the tip, increasing each time she smoothed her thumb over its head.
It wasn't long, before his hips were moving up into her touch, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.
And she wasn't done with him...she was just getting started.
When they hit another red light, Mercedes unhooked her seat belt.
And Sam's eyes widened with realization.
She gave him a little smile and then bent over, taking him into her mouth.
"Oh hell," he ground out.
His hips pumped up, and she loved that...loved the salty, masculine taste of him.
Wrapping her hand around his base, she slid it up, while her mouth went down, taking him, as far as she could.
"Mercedes, you..." he groaned. "This was probably the worst and..." He sucked in a breath. "...the best idea you've had."
She moaned around him, and he made a low sound deep in his throat.
His hand landed on her head, wrapping his fingers through her hair.
And it wasn't long before he was guiding her speed.
When she flicked her tongue over his head again and his body jerked, she had no idea how he didn't wreck.
A shudder ran up Sam's body.
"Dear God...Merce..." he started, his mouth hanging open.
Mercedes flicked a quick glance up to his face, and something inside her melted.
His face was beet red, his lips included and his eyes were a dark green...he looked so sexy in that moment.
"Mercedes...if you don't stop...I'm..."
That's what she wanted.
Tightening her hold, she pumped faster, as she pulled her lips back, scraping his sensitive head with her teeth.
And that did it.
She felt his release rock through his body.
He tried to lift her head, but she wasn't having it. She was in this to the finish, and boy did she finish him.
When she finally lifted her head, she saw that they were going about ten miles an hour and Sam looked like he'd just rolled out of bed.
His eyes slid to hers and she licked her lips.
"Fuck," he groaned out.
Smiling, she tucked his semi-hard sex back into his pants, zipped, and buttoned him up.
"Do I need to drive?"
"No...No. I got this." He put both hands on the steering wheel and nodded. "Yeah, I got this."
Feeling warm and pleased with herself, Mercedes redid her seat belt and settled back.
Several moments passed, before Sam seemed able to speak again.
"Wow. That was...there are no words." A lopsided grin appeared on his lips. "It's a damn good thing no photo-hags got a picture of that, though."
In that moment, Mercedes forgot everything.
Turning to him, she laughed out loud.
"Yeah, I doubt Miss Wilde would be pleased with those pictures."
The day before Christmas Eve, was a lazy day at work.
Employees always cut out around three or earlier.
Nothing got done, but that was okay, because Mercedes and Marley, were ready for the Gala and that was all that mattered.
So Mercedes played Solitaire on her computer and tended her crops on Farmville, until she found herself staring at her computer, thinking about Sam.
Goodness, he'd looked amazing at the event...the whole night had been amazing.
A stupid, silly grin appeared on her face.
The Christmas dinner for the Nationals had been perfect and Sam...
She wanted to pat herself on the back, for what went down in his Jeep. She had been pretty damn perfect herself.
Though, it probably wouldn't be smart to do anything like that again.
Even though she'd said they shouldn't complicate things, she figured she owed him.
When he'd dropped her off at her apartment, she'd made a hasty exit, knowing that if she stayed a moment longer, the night would've ended in sex.
Her phone rang, startling her enough, that she jerked back from the computer.
"Office of Marley Rose, how can I help you?"
"Miss Jones, can you see Director Bernstein please?"
Mercedes felt like a tool, since she should've known it was an internal call.
"Yes. I'll be right there."
Assuming he wanted something to do with the Gala, she shut down her web and went ahead and powered off the computer.
The desks outside of Marley's office were empty. And Jacob was nowhere to be seen.
Swinging a left, she squeezed passed a Christmas tree and entered Director Bernstein's office.
His secretary glanced up with smile.
"Go on in," she said.
Mercedes pushed open the door and realized the director wasn't alone. Marley was with him, and she looked pissed.
Her stomach sunk, as she sat next to her boss.
"What's going on?"
Director Bernstein smiled, but it looked pained, as if he were about to say something he really didn't want to.
"I know you've worked very hard and closely with Miss Rose on the Winter Fund-raiser Gala, and there really is no amount of gratitude that I can express. Both of you have done a superb job."
Mercedes glanced over at Marley, having a feeling, that whatever this conversation was truly about, had nothing to do with his gratitude.
"The Gala is so important to the institute and for the volunteer process," the director continued. "Each year, we see an increase in attendees and donations and those donations are what keep departments like the one Miss Rose oversees running. We cannot afford to lose any donors, who wish to have a nice evening at the Gala, without the intrusion of press."
Ice drenched Mercedes' veins, as she stared at the director. She forced herself to take a nice, slow breath.
This had to do with Sam. Of course, everything had to do with Sam now, her fake boyfriend.
Whatever warm and fuzzy thoughts she had about him minutes before, vanished like the doughnuts Marley had brought in this morning.
"Keeping that in mind, I'm going to have to ask, that you not attend the Gala, Miss Jones." That damn smile of his wavered. "Anything that involves Sam Evans, turns into a media circus, and many of our attendees, do not want to be a part of an environment like that."
Marley cleared her throat and said,
"Just so you know, I do not agree with this at all."
Funny how, Mercedes cheeks were burning, when she felt so cold inside, but she'd be damned if this crap with Sam, ruined something she'd been working on all year.
Although, he'd seemed to be looking forward to attending the Gala with her, she knew he wouldn't be too upset, about being cut out of it.
"He doesn't have to attend," she said. "I can do this without him."
Director Bernstein leaned forward, folding his hands on wood so polished, Mercedes could see her reflection in it.
"I've considered that, but with or without Mr. Evans, the press will follow you. How many days are they waiting outside, just to get a photograph of you alone?"
'Five, but who was counting?'
Mercedes' hand curled uselessly in her lap.
"I can try to talk to some of them...ask them to stay away."
"You and I both know, that's not going to work. They're like vultures, and if they think there's a chance, they can film you and Mr. Evans together, then they'll be camping outside. I cannot have that kind of negative press in attendance. I'm sorry, but it's in the best interest of the Gala and the Institute."
Mercedes wasn't sure what she said next, but she was sure she'd nodded, agreed, and then the awkward-as-hell meeting was over.
She was in a stupor, as she went back to her office and grabbed her purse.
Marley looked as bad, as Mercedes felt.
"I'm so sorry, Merce. Bernstein is a huge Nationals fan..."
"It's okay."
It really wasn't, and the last thing she wanted to hear, was how the director fan-boyed Sam in private.
"Really. I tried talking him out of it, but there're a lot of conservative stiffs, that come to this thing and donate a ton of money."
Forcing a smile she didn't feel, she gave her friend a brief hug.
"It's okay. Hey, I'm going to get out of here. Have a good Christmas, okay?"
"Merce..."
She walked out of the office, blinking back tears, but her head was high.
As she climbed into her car, she sent Sam a quick text, checking to see if he was home.
The response was a quick 'yes' and the drive to his posh apartment was a blur.
She figured dis-inviting Sam from the Gala, was best done in person.
Sam answered on the first knock and stepped aside, allowing her to come in the foyer.
She quickly averted her gaze from him, because really, no man should look as good as he did, in a plain shirt and lounge pants.
"I..." She took a deep breath and smelled Chinese food. Her brows pinched, as she glanced around. "Why do I smell Mr. Tso's chicken?"
He smiled.
"When you said you were swinging by, I took the liberty of ordering a late lunch. It's your favorite, right?"
Mercedes winced at the considerate gesture.
She wasn't hungry, which was testament to how sucky she was feeling right now.
"Thank you, but I wasn't planning to stay very long."
He'd stopped halfway down the hall and turned to her, his brows furrowing.
"That's... Hey, are you okay?"
She probably should've checked her face for smudged mascara.
"Yes, I'm okay. I came here to tell you...to ask if you wouldn't attend the Gala."
Not seeing the need to add the embarrassing part, where she also wasn't attending, she stumbled along awkwardly.
Maybe a phone call or text would've been better.
"I know it's kind of rude, to ask that of you and all, but I'd really appreciate it."
"Yeah. Okay." Sam leaned against the wall, folding his arms. "Did something happen with the Gala?"
She shook her head, still way too emotional to go into details, and seriously, it wasn't like he really cared.
Dating was a job to him right now, and she doubted, he'd appreciate her going all drama llama on him. No one had agreed to that in the beginning.
"Did someone say something to you?"
Heat crawled up her neck. Goodness, he could be astute at times.
"No. It...just is. Anyway, that's all I came by for, but I really need to get going. Um, thanks for the Chinese. Rain check on that?"
"Wait." He pushed off the wall, coming at her. "What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" she repeated, searching her memory for plans. "Tomorrow is Christmas Eve...?"
A quirky grin appeared.
"Yeah, and I always spend it with Marley's family, along with my brothers."
'Oh, right...Marley's family Christmas celebration.' She'd managed to avoid that like the plague, the last couple of years.
"You're going with me, right?" he said after a few moments, clearly choosing to ignore the fact, she'd already shot his offer down once before.
Mercedes pursed her lips.
"Christmas Eve dinners are not my thing."
"Well, it's not really traditional. Actually it's the opposite of traditional. Mostly, it's just drinking and snacking and watching Stevie get drunk and make a fool out of himself."
"As fun as that sounds, I'm going to have to pass." She started backing toward the door. "But I hope you have a good time."
"Hold on." He put his hand on the door, stopping her. "What's your deal? I'm cool with the Gala thing and I'll take the rain check on the Chinese, so, would it kill you to go to this with me?"
"Yes," she snapped, reaching for the door handle. "Sam, come on. Open the door."
"You know, sometimes I think I get you and then I realize, I don't have a freaking clue. You like Marley and Stevie, so it shouldn't be a big deal."
He removed his hand from the door and thrust it through his hair.
"It's like you don't want to...I don't know, open yourself up."
"Open myself up?" He frowned.
"Yeah."
Mercedes didn't know what made the words come out of her mouth.
The holidays always had her on edge and mix in all of this with Sam and the Gala, her patience and filter were nonexistent.
"Why do you want me to go with you, Sam? Why would you want me to open myself up to you? It's not like we're really dating, and the last thing we should be doing is spending the holidays together, or getting deep and meaningful with each other, when it's going to be all over soon anyway."
"Whoa...Wow!" Sam reached around her, opening the door, so she could dip under his arm. "That's fine. Wouldn't want to get all deep and meaningful, Mercedes. You're right. This'll be over in days. Why bother?"
She blanched.
"Exactly."
"Whatever. Have a nice Christmas, Mercedes."
And then, he closed the door.
He didn't even slam it, which seemed worse somehow.
Stay safe!