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Standard disclaimer.

MERCEDES

Sam and I lay side by side, our heads propped up on the abundance of pillows, stacked at the head of the bed.

I'd finally fixed my bra and had pulled my shirt back on, but Sam was still rocking his bare chest hotness and I was okay with that.

He'd gone downstairs at some point and had grabbed us two sodas. Normally I drank diet, but I slurped up the good old-fashioned kind without complaint.

He'd also brought up a block of cheese, that he'd pulled apart in chunks, and I think I might've fallen in love with him a little at that moment, because, cheese equaled happiness.

I had no idea where Shay and Caleb were, or if they had any suspicions about the kinky stuff that had just gone down in this room. But I was trying not to do a lot of thinking, because, thinking led to stressing and stressing led to stupidity for me.

Sam talked about some of the calls he'd responded to, while working at the fire hall.

There were the funny ones...like when someone had locked themselves out on the balcony of their apartment...naked as the day they were born. Or when the department was called by an overeager child, who'd just learned in school what to do in case of an emergency and was more of a show, than tell, when it came to explaining to their parents, what they'd learned.

He laughed a lot, and I liked it when he did. It was a good sound, one I had tried not to pay attention to before, but now, I couldn't help but smile when I heard it.

I was slow to realize, that he was always laughing. I just had to pull my head out of my ass and pay attention.

"So, how did your parents react when you changed your major?" Sam asked.

My eyes widened.

"Oh, my God, they flipped out. They think I'm throwing away all of my education and that I'm ruining my life, by wanting to become a teacher."

"I don't think becoming a teacher is ruining your life," he said. "Plus, it's just as important as becoming a doctor."

I raised one hand and rubbed my thumb and pointer together.

"Money. A teacher makes way less money."

"And that's all they care about?" he asked.

Was it?

"That's a hard question to answer, to be honest. Money is important to them...but I don't think it's the only thing." I frowned slightly. "I think, they just want to make sure I have a good life, you know? That I don't struggle."

"That's understandable, but being a teacher doesn't mean you'll be dirt poor."

I laughed softly as I bent one leg.

"True. But they wanted me to become a plastic surgeon like them...like my brother is going to be. But I'm not passionate about it. Unless, I decide to specialize in emergency procedures, I'd spend my life augmenting boobs and noses...that's...just not me."

"Did your brother change what he's doing? He's in med school, right?"

Surprise flitted through me.

I had no idea that he remembered anything about my brother. He'd met him once, though it had been brief.

"He's not doing plastic surgery. He's going for trauma. I think he likes the adrenaline."

I also think he liked the whole God complex, that came with the job. It's a good fit for him.

"My parents have accepted it," I added, as I wiggled my toes. "Begrudgingly, but hey, at least Roderick hasn't disappointed them, so they have that."

Sam cocked his head to the side.

"You haven't disappointed them."

The way he said it, was almost like he completely believed that, but I knew better. They were disappointed.

One day they'd fully get over it, and I was sure, it wouldn't be the only decision I've made or would make in my life, that would upset them.

But I really didn't want to think about that.

It was so different hanging with Sam like this. Not like we hadn't had moments...lots of them...when we weren't trying to kill one another, but this was kind of like we were together, really together.

Of course, I knew we weren't, but...

I cradled the can against my chest, staring down at it, smiling as Sam's laughter faded.

"You've gotten quiet," he said, knocking his knee off mine. "You okay?"

Shaking my head, I glanced over at him.

"I'm okay. Really, I am. It's just...this is nice," I said lamely. "I mean, I haven't just sat like this with a..."

"With a dude?" he supplied.

I nodded.

"Not for a long time."

"How long?" he asked.

I coughed out a dry laugh.

"A really, embarrassingly long time. Not since I dated this really dumb quarterback in high school." My cheeks heated. "So, yeah, that long."

Sam didn't respond.

I peeked at him again, expecting to see him looking at me, like I was some kind of sad specimen of a person, but he was just...he was just looking at me, his eyes soft.

"What?" I whispered.

"I'm glad you picked me to do this with, then," he said after a moment.

My heart fluttered like a little bird.

"I think you kind of picked yourself."

"Whatever," he chuckled, and then leaned over me, placing what was left of the cheese and his soda on the nightstand.

"You know, there's a stand on your side," I pointed out.

He leaned back against the cushions and gave a lopsided shrug.

"Yours is better," he said, and I laughed at the absurdity that was all him. "But it's hard to believe that you don't do this."

"I don't." I lifted a shoulder and something really stupid blurted out of me. "I liked doing what I did to you."

A slow grin curled his lips.

"I did too. I really, really liked it. Basically, whenever you feel the need to do it, you just let me know. I don't care where we are or what we're doing. I'll make sure you can do it."

Laughing, I shook my head.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You do that." He paused as he crossed his long legs at the ankles. "Seriously, though, I didn't expect that. It made it all the more sweet," he ended.

There he went again, saying possibly the most correct thing in the world.

I looked away, staring at my soda...feeling the need to be open up a little more.

"It never felt like that. I mean, anytime I did that before, I kind of felt like I had to, you know?"

A moment passed, before he said,

"No. I don't know. Explain?"

"Guys just kind of expect it," I said, toying with the tab on the can. "No one goes home from bars expecting to chat."

There was another stretch of silence.

"Maybe, people shouldn't go home with others, if they think they'll owe someone something." His words were clipped, stern.

My head jerked up and our gazes met.

"I'm not sure if that was an insult or not."

Sam frowned.

"It's not an insult, Andy. You should never feel like you owe a guy that. No matter what. I don't care if they ate you out, or gave you a million dollars."

I raised my brows.

"Ate me out or a million dollars? Nice use of examples there. I don't know, Sam, I think, if someone gave me a million dollars, I'd be down for just about anything."

His frown turned into a scowl.

"I was joking," I added softly.

His stare was unnerving.

"Have you ever been...forced into doing that, Mercedes?"

His question caused me to flinch back.

"What? No! That's not what I meant. It's just sometimes..."

I trailed off, as what I was about to say, really sank in.

The soda curdled in my stomach, and I wished I hadn't shoved the huge chunks of cheese into my mouth.

My head raced back through the nights that I'd gone home...knowing the guy expected to get laid...and me not wanting to anything.

But then I did, because, at that time, I thought there were no other options.

Now that I look back, I was so stupid. There are always options. Like 'no', for example.

Then, there were those nights, I really couldn't remember.

Jesus. I felt sick. I didn't like where my head was going with this. Sweat dotted my palms. It wasn't like I'd been...

I couldn't even finish that thought.

I didn't know what that meant...doing things, because, I felt like I had to, or not remembering what I did sometimes. Or maybe I did, and I just didn't want to grab hold of those thoughts.

I need a drink.

Okay. That was probably not the best response to the situation.

Sam reached over, tapping his fingers along my arm.

"I'm thinking some pretty bad things right now," he said.

I couldn't look at him.

"I hope, it's just my head jumping to conclusions unjustly," he added.

The next breath I took, hurt for some reason.

"It's jumping to conclusions."

His hand stilled and he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and squeezed softly.

"Hey," he said gently. "Look at me."

Drawing in a shallow breath, I lifted my gaze and our eyes met and held. A heartbeat passed, and I felt stripped bare, more exposed than I had been earlier.

"I just want you to know, that if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here. No matter the time of the day. You got that?" Sam said.

And then I saw it plain as day in his gaze.

There was no mistaking it.

It wasn't just sympathy. Part of me could've dealt with that, but there was more lurking in those green eyes.

Pity.

He stared at me, full of pity. And every muscle in my body tightened.

My skin prickled with uncomfortable heat. And the urge to get away rushed through me.

I couldn't do this.

SAM

I saw the exact moment Mercedes shut down on me.

As soon as I told her, that she could talk to me about anything, shutters closed over her eyes.

The girl who'd sat next to me and laughed was gone.

The girl who opened up about her parents had left the room. And the girl who had cried out, surrendered herself, was nowhere to be seen.

Shit!

"Andy..."

"I'm really tired." She swung her legs off the bed and stood before I could respond. "I think it's time for me to get some sleep."

She started towards the door, then seemed to remember that we were in her room.

She stopped, and placed her soda on the dresser, with her back facing me.

Heart dropping, I scooted off the bed, but held myself back. I had a feeling, that going to her would somehow make this worse.

"Mercedes, I didn't mean to..."

"You didn't do anything." Slowly, she faced me and plastered a smile across her pretty face. It was fake. Plastic.

"I'm just really tired all of a sudden. You wore me out." Her laugh was brittle-sounding. "I need my beauty rest."

I opened my mouth, but clamped my jaw shut, as her smile spread...the kind of smile doctors wore, when giving patients bad news.

She gathered up a bundle of clothing from the chair, cradling the items close to her chest, as she stopped in front of the bed.

"I'll see you in the morning?" she asked.

A huge part of me wanted to demand, to know what the hell was going on, but there was no mistaking, that her walls were up.

I watched her hurry into the bathroom and quietly close the door.

I briefly considered plopping my ass down and waiting for her, but I'd accidentally hit a raw nerve, and frankly, I was too pissed, to really have this conversation.

I wasn't angry at her, but if she really had done things with guys, because, she felt like she had to, instead of wanting to, it was likely I'd punch a wall.

Thank God I did not have a sister.

If I couldn't deal with the thought of assholes treating Mercedes like that, what the hell would I do, if I had a sister? I'd end up in jail.

Angry and beyond frustrated, I gathered up our drinks and what was left of the cheese and left the room, taking them downstairs.

The first level was dark and quiet, and after grabbing a bottle of water, I ended up back upstairs, in my room.

Shit!

Dropping down on the bed, I ran my hands over my face.

Things were all over the place with Mercedes and me, but I felt like we'd moved forward. And it wasn't just because, what she and I had done in that bed, but because, of everything before, during and after that.

But now?

I couldn't shake the feeling, that we'd taken one huge step backward.

Stay safe!