If Mercedes really thought about it, she and Matt were on the same page. He wanted to build a real relationship with someone - something promising. He wanted the family Christmas cards and shared assets. As he described all those things to her on their date (which, admittedly felt a little more like a business meeting), she definitely thought they could want the same things. That was the life she imagined, and now that she had a degree and owned a business, it was the life her family imagined for her as well. Briefly, she pictured introducing Matt to her parents. God, they would be thrilled. Then she pictured bringing Sam home, her former (white as hell) classmate who she only had negative things to say about in the past who just got evicted from his place. Thrilled was not the word in that scenario.

"I mean I guess that's why I went into finance. Everything's predictable, everything in its proper place," Matt finished, taking a small sip of his red wine. Mercedes realized she'd been distracted through about 75% of his spiel.

"That makes sense," she replied with a vague nod, taking a considerably larger gulp of her own wine. "I'm a Virgo so I like everything in its place too." He visibly relaxed at that.

"We're really compatible, Mercedes."

"Yeah, we are. But now I have a serious question for you." The waiter came to take their empty plates and he leaned on the table in anticipation before she went on. "What's your favorite song?"

"Oh, jeez," he griped, blowing out a breath. She really wanted to get to know him and this was her favorite question. It was THE potential boyfriend question, and there weren't wrong answers; she just loved the way someone lit up about their favorite song. It always made her fall a little in love, feel a little more connected.

"That rough of a question, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah, I don't know. I don't consider myself to really be a music guy, you know?" Matt gave an apologetic smile and shrugged his shoulders.

"I mean, you don't have to be a music guy," she answered, rolling her eyes. "Everyone has a song they absolutely love, even if they've never sang or played a lick."

"How about the song you sang the other night in your café? That can be my favorite song," he told her, finishing his glass and chuckling to himself like he'd cracked the code. She held back a sigh.

"What, so you don't have a favorite song?" Mercedes killed her wine with a larger gulp and slid the glass to the edge of the table so the waiter could take it.

"Well...no, not really. I don't really listen to music enough to have a favorite."

Mercedes thought back to their conversation at the hotel in LA when she met him and furrowed her brow.

"Weird, I just thought when you commented on my CBGB shirt and we talked about my record store…"

"I'd just seen people wear it over the years and they were usually cool," he answered, straightening in his seat. "And I think your record store is really cool and your voice is beautiful but I...enjoy silence when I'm alone. Are you upset I don't have a favorite song?" He laughed after asking the question, like if she actually was upset it would be so childish and hilarious.

"No, I just…" she paused and eventually shrugged. "I was surprised is all."

"Okay, I'll bite. I've always been especially fond of that one auto commercial song. The one with the cartoons?"

When Mercedes got in from her date with Matt, she felt a bit disappointed. She almost wasn't willing to admit it to herself, but once he was driving her home she was relieved. They didn't have as much in common as she hoped. And as she heard the shower cut on in the bathroom, her mind was back on Sam.

It was time to come clean (at least to herself) that she...liked Sam. A lot. Too much, actually. That was the problem. Matt was talking about family and a partnership and everything that fell in line with her expectations. Sam could rarely figure out what he was going to eat at night. But he made her experience a sense of freedom that felt frightening. Whenever she was with Sam, she felt unmasked. But our masks are necessary, she told herself. She couldn't let herself be the person she was with him: totally flawed, bare and just Mercedes. Being with Sam didn't allow her to play the role.

She thought all this, reminding herself why she couldn't let herself keep doing this with him, yet her heels were discarded on the floor and her little feet were bounding toward his bedroom.

It could have been the wine, she'd definitely say it was the wine later.

Sam was spacing out, letting the warm water from the shower head poor over his head. As much as he didn't want to spend the night thinking about Mercedes on her date with that dude, that's exactly what he did. His jokes and insults earlier that night about Matt probably did precious little to disguise his jealousy. He knew it was jealousy, just like he knew at this point he definitely had a thing for Mercedes. Ordinarily, he'd be the first to admit his feelings for a girl, but with her, he'd actually convinced himself they hated each other. He had no idea why she made him feel so passionate, even about being an asshole. Changing the dynamic at this point felt almost weird, but seeing her literally fawn and giggle over a random dude she met who made her feel none of that passion was beginning to motivate him anyway. And when he and Mercedes weren't actively trying to be mad at each other, things with them were actually so easy. She had to see that too. The shower was a final attempt to clear his thoughts. It was half-working.

When he got out, he ran the towel over his hair and brushed his teeth, actively trying not to wonder what time it was or if she was home or not. Soon he had his towel around his waist, making his way back to his room. When he saw her there, barefoot and waiting on his bed, he froze.

"Sorry if I scared you," she said, easing herself into a standing position.

"It's okay. I wasn't sure when you were gonna be back," he replied, walking toward her.

"I just got back. I wanted to see if you could help me get out of my dress."

Sam raised an eyebrow. A small part of him wanted to ask how her date went, but he realized that most of him didn't give a shit. He closed the space between them, looking down at her with a half smile as he reached around her form and unzipped the dress. "There."

Within moments her dress was pushed to the ground, along with his towel and he was lifting her onto the bed. Pressing her to the mattress, he kissed her slowly, running his hand down her side and along her thigh before gripping it, pulling her close so she could wrap her legs around him.

If it wouldn't piss her off to hear, he'd mention how this black lingerie ended up being for him.

"Sam."

"Mmph." His face was against her neck, kissing and nibbling as he reached under her to unclasp her bra.

"Sam." She could feel his breath on her neck when he sighed. Lifting his head to look down at her he gave his best exasperated look.

"What?" He was expecting the usual - 'we shouldn't,' 'Sam, wait, we should think.'

"What's your favorite song?"

His eyebrows went up, eyes searching hers in slight confusion. Finally, he leaned back and let her legs fall from around him, sitting across from her. Mercedes sat up too, scooting against the headboard so they were facing each other.

"Well, I guess it depends," he began, still a little confused she asked him this mid-boner but willing to answer nonetheless. "My favorite driving song is Scenes From an Italian Restaurant by Billy Joel. Because it's long so I'm usually where I need to be by the end of it. And by the time I get there I feel like I lived a whole epic life with Brenda and Eddie."

She couldn't help but laugh at that and shake her head.

"Then there's my childhood favorite, which I obviously revisit, and that's Everywhere by Michelle Branch. I used to love that song. Sure it's pure pop, but it really hits to this day. And that bridge! I sense it now, the water's getting deep. I try to wash the pain away from me…I love those notes."

Mercedes was a little taken. She didn't usually see this side of Sam. The giddy, nerdy, cute Sam. This had to be the guy their mutual friends were so crazy about, and now she could see it.

"But my current favorite song, like the one I keep going back to is Kiss U Right Now by Duckwrth. I'm a sucker for a fat bassline. And kissing," he said, topping it off with a cute smile. Why did she love his answers so much? Why was he being so cute?

"You want me to insult you?" he asked.

"What?"

"You...just asked me why I'm being cute. Which, thank you. But also...I kinda wish you didn't act so shocked whenever I'm not acting like a dick," he told her. Mercedes blushed, realizing she'd said the last thought aloud.

"I mean, it's kind of the norm with us," she replied. He sighed.

"Well I live here now. And when I said I appreciated it, I was serious, you know? If a girl literally puts a roof over my head I'm obligated to stop being a dick to her. Cause then it's just rude." She laughed. But at the same time he was making her nervous.

"Yeah, well. Nobody asked you to be cute," she replied.

"Fine," he said. She yelped, laughing a little more when he pulled her by her ankles so she was laying flat again. He worked at removing her panties, throwing them aside. Tonight, he would taste her.

"Can I ask you something?" Mike was finishing up on a late dinner for his girlfriend, sprinkling cilantro on her tacos. Tina was sitting at the counter with a magazine while he did so.

"Shoot," she responded.

"How'd you know Sam and Mercedes were into each other? That was really intuitive, because I think about it, and I realize I honestly had no idea. I thought they'd kill each other before they...well…" He clicked his tongue to insinuate sex and she giggled.

"I don't know, I guess I've always been too observant for my own good. They can't possibly stare at each other that much from hate. Also, hate from what?"

Mike raised an eyebrow. She had a point.

"Like, what reason did they really have for their animosity toward each other? Some mildly insensitive nicknames and disagreements over a few petty topics? You'd think they killed each other's families!" she bemoaned. He laughed.

"Oh my God, you're so right. One time I think Sam was just complaining about how small her hands are. What the fuck?" He furrowed his brow, chuckling and setting her plate in front of her. She was laughing now too.

"Right, so I began to think maybe all that hate is coming from a different source. Maybe they just misplaced it." She shrugged and looked at him, noticing he was staring at her with a dopey smile. "What?"

"Nothing, really. I'm just a lucky dude."