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Standard disclaimer.

MERCEDES

It was the butt-crack of dawn Saturday morning, when I found myself wide awake with a pounding headache and a really vile taste, in the back of my throat.

Throwing off a quilt I didn't remember grabbing, I sat up and the room did this really weird fun-house thing.

I made it to the bathroom with just seconds to spare, enough time to turn on the shower to drown out the sounds I made, when I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet.

Pain shuttled up and down my ribs, by the time I had finished.

I sat there for a minute, clean water in the basin of the toilet and steam filling the bathroom, whilst I replayed messy images from the night before...over and over...like I was stuck in some kind of twisted instant replay of random, blurry flashes, which didn't make a lot of sense.

Last night...I'd gotten plastered and not only made a complete idiot out of myself, I'd had an anxiety attack.

My cheeks burned, as I vaguely remembered Sam standing in the room, me screaming at him and not being able to breathe.

How in the world would I ever face him again?

I dragged myself to my feet and after stripping down, I stepped under the warm spray.

It was a nice shower...multiple body jets and an overhead rain shower-head.

I liked to think, the drenching washed away all the lingering alcohol, seeping out of my pores.

Brushing my teeth twice, I practically made love to the mouthwash, before I pulled on a lightweight maxi dress and quietly sneaked downstairs.

It was too early for anyone else to be up and even though I wanted...needed...coffee and its wonderful caffeine, I didn't want the aroma to turn the house into a Folgers coffee commercial.

So I settled for iced tea that I took outside.

Tired and my head thumping dully, I set the tea aside and padded over to the side of the pool.

My toes curled, as I stared at the water.

I felt detached from last night. Like it hadn't been me who'd gotten so drunk, or had freaked out. It seemed like a movie I watched or something I was a bystander to. But that was how it always felt, after an attack.

And it had been me.

Lifting my head, I closed my eyes and I tried not to think, but it was a quiet moment, therefore, thinking was automatic.

Suddenly, my body tensed, and I wasn't sure what I was preparing myself for, but every muscle trembled.

When I opened my eyes, nothing had changed.

I walked over to the lounge chair and sat down, tucking my feet under the hem of my dress.

Since it was so early, the sticky humidity and the overbearing heat hadn't rolled in yet.

The sky was cloudless, a beautiful blue and the surrounding foliage reminded me of something...Sam's eyes.

Sam...

My shoulders rose with a deep sigh.

Last night had been such a disaster.

I hadn't planned on drinking as much as I had, and I'd be lying, if I said I didn't know why I'd done it.

After what happened between him and me, I'd been a nervous wreck, especially, after Caleb and Shay had returned.

Besides being thoroughly confused, everything had changed between us. I could no longer be around him and see him just as a friend.

Now, I was conscious of every little thing I did, or said in front of him, and looking back, I knew I had let my head make more of a deal out of his behavior Thursday night, than it should have and I had started drinking yesterday, so I could relax.

That had been the plan, but like Sam had said...I hadn't stopped.

I never stopped at one or two drinks, because, I didn't know how to.

Closing my eyes, I let myself sink into the cushion as I sipped the tea.

A huge part of me wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, that I didn't have a problem. I wasn't the dreaded A-word. I knew what an alcoholic looked like.

An image of my father formed in my thoughts.

For many, many years, he'd hidden the truth from his colleagues, but not from us.

Every moment he was home, he drank. Didn't matter if it was my birthday or my brother's. Or Thanksgiving or Christmas.

He had missed so many special moments, passed out on the deck or in his bedroom.

Ten years ago, when my mom had threatened to leave him, he'd sobered up, started going to AA meetings and all that jazz. It had been a rough start and he'd had to take a sabbatical from his practice, but he'd made it through.

I wasn't like my dad.

I didn't drink every day, but as I drew in another shaky breath, I opened my eyes. I wasn't stupid. Alcoholism didn't mean someone drank all the time, but I didn't have that problem. No way.

I would not slip down that rabbit hole, especially after seeing what it had done to my family. I wasn't that weak.

Maybe I did drink too much on occasion. Okay. I totally did that. And maybe, very few people who knew me in real life, actually took me seriously, because of it.

And maybe...God, I was a mess, with or without a drink sometimes.

A lot of times.

Sipping the tea, I let my gaze wander over the tall pines surrounding the backyard.

What in the world was I going to do about Sam?

Just the thought of him caused my chest to clench. He thought I was a mess.

That hurt.

It still tore through me, because I was a mess. And I had proven that last night, hadn't I?

Blinking back the sudden rush of tears, I gave a little shake of my head.

I felt like I'd disappointed him somehow. Like I had let down my parents, when I'd told them I no longer wanted to go to med school.

Like I'd disappointed Shay, when she had kindly suggested that I talk to someone, after discovering I had anxiety attacks, told her that I didn't need to talk to anyone.

But worse yet, I was disappointed in myself, and I couldn't go back and change anything.

The last couple of times, that I'd had that feeling of being overwhelmed and out of control, I'd been able to stop it, before I'd needed meds.

It had been well over a year and then some, since I'd actually had one. And If I hadn't been so drunk, I knew I would've been able to stop it. I just knew it.

The sliding glass door opened and I looked over, my heart lodging in my throat, when I saw that it was Sam.

Sleep clung to his eyes.

The shadow of growth along his jaw, gave him a rough, sexy appearance. Normally, he was so clean-shaven, so this was a nice change.

He only had on a pair of flannel bottoms, as he stopped in the middle of the deck, raising a hand and idly rubbing his palm against the center of his chest.

I was struck mute, partly embarrassed about last night, but also, his disheveled look was really just too damn attractive, for this early in the morning.

When I rolled out of bed, I looked like a wild haired Chewbacca.

"Hey," he said, his voice gruff, as he lowered his arm. "You're up early."

I nodded, clutching my tea to my chest.

"I...I got a lot of sleep last night."

He nodded slowly, and when he didn't respond, the silence stretched out between us, until it became so awkward, that my cheeks started to burn.

I was about to get up and flee, which probably, also included, shoving my head under a blanket, when Sam cleared his throat.

"Mind if I sit?" He jerked his chin at the space at the end of the lounge chair I sat on.

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head.

Quietly, I watched him sit down, resting his arms on his bent knees. I knew we were going to have a talk after last night, but I'd really hoped it wouldn't be this soon, because, I had no idea what to really think about everything and I felt like I needed a hard drink, to fortify myself for this conversation.

Well, that wasn't the right thought to have, all things considered.

He angled his head towards me and his troubled gaze met mine.

My stomach dipped as his shoulders tensed.

"About last night," he started, voice low. "I want you to know that...what you went through? The anxiety attack? I wish I'd known you had those."

And I wished he'd never found out.

"I would've liked to have been able to help you through it, but I want you to know, that I don't think anything...weird about it. That I don't think any differently about you, because of it."

Only a very little part of me, believed that to be true.

"I want to get back to all of that. I want to learn more about it," he continued. "But, first, I need to tell you this. I shouldn't have said what I did, the way I said it."

A moment passed.

"No. You shouldn't have," I agreed, lowering my gaze to my half-drunk tea. "But...you were right about it. I'm a..."

"You're not a mess," he cut in.

If only he really knew how messy my head was sometimes. That attack last night? It was just the tip of a Titanic-sized fucked-up iceberg.

"Seriously," he continued. "That was a dickhead move. I shouldn't have said that. So I'm sorry. Really, I am." He paused. "I've been saying I'm sorry a lot lately."

"You have," I murmured, setting the tea on the small, round table, beside the lounge. "Sam, I don't...I don't know what to say."

He stretched out his long legs, wiggling his toes.

"I worry about you," he said after a moment, surprising me. I'd vaguely recalled him saying something like that last night. "I didn't mean to lose my cool with you. It's just...that you..."

"I drink," I finished for him, flushing. "That doesn't make me an alcoholic."

Sam didn't respond for a long moment and then he raised his shoulders in a helpless shrug, and I knew my statement had fallen like a pile of bricks between us.

Of which, a few may have landed on my head.

I folded my arms around my waist, wishing I had something other than my word, to back up what I'd just said, but I really didn't.

What I did say, however, I hadn't planned on.

"I'm single, because, I haven't dated anyone that made me want to put the effort into a relationship."

Sam's features tensed.

"Mercedes..."

"The guys I date, aren't really relationship-worthy," I said, and I couldn't shut up. Once I opened my mouth, the words kept coming.

"There are guys that are like you and Caleb...the ones you want to latch onto and never let go. And there are guys who are good for going out with to the bar and maybe spending a couple of hours with...just hooking up. Nothing more. You bring them home, hoping they don't puke all over the place."

I laughed hoarsely, as he watched me.

"That is, if you bring them home. So, none of them, I've ever wanted to be in a relationship with. Hell, half of them, I wouldn't look twice at, while sober."

His brows knitted.

"Well, let me just clarify, that it's not like an entire football team worth of guys I've been with. Nothing like that, but that's not the point." I shrugged. "I'm just the female version of them."

"What?" Shock colored his tone.

"You know. I'm not really relationship-worthy. I'm the girl who drinks too much, does stupid shit, and is either really funny when drunk, or really annoying."

My lips trembled, even though my tone was light.

"I am a mess. I know that."

"No," Sam said, as he shook his head. "You are not that. You're not a mess and you are relationship-worthy, Mercedes."

He twisted towards me, expression taut.

"Fuck! What I said last night...I'm sorry. I'm really sorry if it makes you think that."

I waved my hand. It was dismissive, but that was the last thing I felt. Nothing about this, was something I could throw away.

"I know what I am, Sam. I know what guys think, when they see me at a bar. It's the same thing I think, when I see one of them. Good for a few things, nothing long-term."

"Don't say that."

Meeting his gaze, I smiled weakly.

"I'm not trying to wallow in self-pity or make you feel bad for me. I just know what you all..."

He moved incredibly fast.

Standing, he reached down and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head back.

I had a second to take a breath, as shock held me immobile.

Then, he lowered his head to mine and kissed me.

MERCEDES

Sam's mouth on mine, was the last thing I expected.

Shocked straight to the core, I didn't move. Every muscle in my body locked up, and I wasn't even sure if I breathed or not.

He was kissing me again.

And dammit, he really knew how to kiss.

Sam swept his lips over mine, once and then twice, the touch slight and soft as a whisper.

In the back of my mind, I couldn't remember being kissed so gently. Like he was asking permission for more, with the touch of his mouth.

All of the kisses I could ever recall, were hard and wet and oftentimes messy, but this was soft and warm and so incredibly tender.

A lot like the ones before, but this...this felt different.

He tilted his head to the side and the pressure of his mouth increased sweetly, as he curved his hand around the nape of my neck.

My brain clicked off, and the entire conversation faded away, like smoke caught in a fierce wind...as did everything I'd been feeling, up until that moment.

All I could feel, was his kiss.

And then, he took it beyond the questioning tenderness.

He made this sound in the back of his throat, when my lips parted to his, and that questioning kiss became something else, something deeper and more sensual.

His tongue glided over mine, and he tasted of mint. I decided in that moment, that was the best flavor in the world.

My heart pounded and my pulse skipped, as his hand tightened along the back of my neck, his long fingers tangling in my still-damp hair.

His mouth moved over mine in determination and when his tongue flicked over the roof of my mouth, there was no stopping the breathy moan.

Then, Sam shifted, stretching his long, lean body over mine, as he guided me down against the lounge, pressing my back into the thick cushion with his weight.

Oh dear.

My hands fluttered to his shoulders and my heart moved into cardiac-episode territory.

His chest was warm, seeping through the thin material of my dress.

His other hand drifted over my hip and then squeezed, wringing a gasp from me.

My hands tightened on his shoulders, the blunt tips of my nails digging in. What he was doing, was like taking a cannonball to my senses.

Every part of me was scattered, by the pure pleasure of his kiss, and I reiterated silently, I'd never been kissed like this before.

Like I was something to cherish and worship.

Like Sam was doing everything to hold himself back from going for more.

I could feel the restraint in the taut lines of his body, in the way his body trembled and his hand clenched my hip.

When he lifted his mouth from mine, a sound I barely recognized came out of me.

His answering chuckle was deep, husky, and when he rested his forehead against mine, I blinked my eyes open.

I was in a daze.

And I said the first thing that came to mind.

"What was that for?"

Sam laughed again, and I could feel it rumbling through my body.

"Only you would ask what a kiss is for." He slid his hand up to my waist, leaving a wake of shivers in his path. "You're worth a million times more, than what you give yourself credit for."

All I could do was stare.

His eyes were a brilliant green.

"And I want to punch myself in the fucking nuts, for putting that kind of thought in your head." He paused. "Well, not right now. I think I'd do permanent damage, if I did that at this second."

I blinked slowly as my hand slipped down to his chest. Under my palm, I could feel his heart beating, nearly as fast as mine.

"You didn't..." I swallowed hard. "You didn't put that thought in my head."

He cocked his head to the side. A long moment passed between us.

"Was it there before?" he asked.

The truth of what I'd just admitted, was like being doused in ice water.

Pressing against his chest, relief flooded me, as he lifted up and returned to where he'd been sitting, before our mouths had decided to get super-friendly with one another.

I needed that space in that moment. And he knew it.

My thoughts and feelings were all over the place, swirling together and forming a cyclone of messy emotions, that whipped away the warmth of the kiss.

I shook my head, wishing I'd kept my mouth shut.

I was sure, 'emotionally unstable' was already added to the list of traits, Sam probably strung together, whenever he thought of me.

And I really didn't need to add to it.

But in reality, he seemed to think highly of me. My heart did a little flip, but my stomach dipped, when I realized, his good opinion of me wouldn't last long.

It hadn't before, so why would now be any different?

My lips still tingled from the kiss, but there was a sudden, sharp stabbing pain in my chest, that felt so very real.

It stole my breath and twisted up my insides.

Sam wasn't the person who made me feel like I wasn't worth it.

Yeah, he'd said some crap, that kind of reinforced it, but that thought...that mentality...had always been there, under my skin and dipping every thought in acidic bitterness.

To be honest, it had always been in my head, ever since I was a young girl.

There was no real reason, other than me being the reason.

I hadn't been bullied as a child. And my heart had never really been broken...it had been wounded, but never shattered.

My father had been a drunk, but I'd grown up in a loving family with all the means in the world.

I had access to more things than most, but my head...my head just didn't work right.

And the moment someone like Sam truly realized that, he wasn't going to want anything to do with me.

So I needed to be very careful with that, because, despite what'd happened when I'd been a freshman and he'd gotten with my roommate, he was the kind of guy who was worth it, and losing someone like him, would surely smash my heart to smithereens.

"Andy," Sam said, as he placed his hand on my arm. "Talk to me."

Drawing in a shallow breath, I looked at him and I wanted him to kiss me again. I really did.

And I wanted him to pull me into his arms. I really wanted that, but that's not what I did.

I sorted through all the emotions churning inside me and I mentally recoiled from the spark of hope and anticipation, that blossomed in my chest.

And I settled on the one tangible thing I always latched onto, the one emotion that protected me no matter what.

Anger.

It was the wrong thing.

I knew that and I also knew the kind of sadness I felt, the restlessness that seemed to invade my very core, it was more destructive than any risk I could take, but I couldn't do this.

"I don't want to talk to you." As his eyes widened with surprise, I swung my legs off the lounge and stood. "And I prefer to pretend that nothing happened between us."

Sam drew back like I'd kicked him in the face, and I didn't feel a moment of satisfaction.

There was only a riptide of frustration and bitter self-loathing, that chewed through me like a cancer.

Our gazes met, and the stark disbelief in his stare was hard to acknowledge, but even harder to look upon, was the twinge of hurt, I saw lurking in there.

Guilt flooded my system, and I turned away.

I had just made it to the door, my fingers brushing over the handle, when his voice stopped me.

"Don't walk away from me," he said. "Please."

SAM

Coming to my feet, I was prepared to chase her ass down, if she ignored me and opened that door.

There was no way I was letting her walk away, after what'd just happened.

No fucking way.

My heart pounded like a steel drum and my pulse was still thrumming. All from a kiss...a simple kiss.

Never had a kiss made me feel like that, and I'd be damned if she stomped all over it, with absolutely no explanation.

Mercedes faced me, her face ashen enough, that the freckles stood out. She opened her mouth, but didn't speak.

I took a step towards her, stopping, when I saw her hands close into fists.

Knowing her, I wouldn't be surprised if she threw a punch.

"I didn't intend on doing that...kissing you," I admitted. "But I sure as hell do not regret doing it, or anything we've shared. And you're going to stand there and tell me you do?"

Her throat worked on a swallow.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't?" My brows flew up. "You want to pretend I didn't just kiss you? That you didn't kiss me back?"

"I didn't kiss you back."

"Oh, bullshit, Andy, you kissed me back. We both know that," I said. "Your tongue was dancing, just as much as mine was. Both of us are damn old enough to admit we liked something. I more than liked that. You can't tell me you didn't."

She looked away, shaking her head, as she folded her arms over her chest.

"You...you don't remember."

"What?" I ran my hand over my head, clasping the back of my neck. "Are you talking about the classes you said we shared?"

I still couldn't believe that. There was no way I wouldn't remember her.

"See? You don't even remember seeing me, not once, but I noticed you." The words came out in a rush, almost too hard to follow. "I had the biggest crush on you and every time we had class, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you." She laughed hoarsely. "Yeah. I was practically horrified by the notion, of going up to you and doing something stupid, but I never did work up the courage. Or maybe my roommate Claire just got to you first."

There was that name again. Claire.

I lowered my hand as a weird sensation filled me. Her roommate got to me first.

I felt my stomach dip, as an old, worn-out memory wiggled free...of me and this girl I'd met one night, at a UMD game...

Oh shit!

Mercedes stared at the deck.

"I came back to the dorm late one night, and normally...Claire would hang a sock around the doorknob, if she had someone with her...but she didn't...there wasn't one. So I opened the door and..."

"You saw me with her," I finished, as the spotty memory formed. "Shit, Andy. I barely remember her."

She snorted.

"Nice."

I winced.

"Yeah, okay, that sounds bad, but it's true. I remember the door to the room opening, but when I looked..."

"When you stopped screwing my roommate long enough to look," she corrected.

'Wow!'

"Okay...you're right. Shit! I don't know what to say, but I didn't know you back then. I wish I had." The truth of that statement, surprised even me. "But I didn't, and it's probably a good thing. Obviously, I was a man-whore back then."

"You're not now?"

She was baiting me. I knew that, and, boy did it take everything for me, not to fall for it.

I felt like shit, knowing that she had walked in on something like that.

"I know this is no excuse, but we didn't know each other. Not really. And I'm sorry if I hurt you..."

"Just forget about it," she snapped quickly, lifting a hand and thrusting her fingers through her hair. Curls shot in every direction. "It doesn't matter now."

"Obviously, it fucking matters, because, you're still holding it against me," I shot back. Striving to stay cool, I took a deep breath. "I am sorry, Mercedes. Really. You walking in on something like that, isn't cool. The fact I don't remember you isn't either. Especially when you liked me. Did you really have a crush on me?" I said, hoping to lighten the conversation.

Frowning, she still didn't look at me.

"I did."

My stomach dipped a little.

"You still do."

Her shoulders rose with a sigh, and it seemed like she was about to say something, but the door behind her opened and Caleb stuck his head out. He looked like he'd literally just woken up, as he gave us a sleepy look.

"We're hitting the road soon," Caleb announced. "But I'm going to make omelets."

I started to tell Caleb, he could shove the omelets in a place, that would probably upset Shay, but what he said sank in.

"Hitting the road?" I asked.

"Yeah." He stepped out, shutting the door behind him. "Shay and I talked it over, and we think it's best, if we go ahead and cut this short and head home."

"What?" Mercedes said. "Why? We have two more days left."

Caleb scrubbed his fingers through his messy hair.

"We know, but both of us are ready to just get back to our place."

I was calling bullshit on this. So was Mercedes.

"It's because of last night, isn't it?' Her voice cracked, and I took a step towards her, wanting to somehow comfort her. "That's why you guys want to leave?"

Caleb dropped his arm and opened his mouth, but she rushed on, clasping her hands across her waist.

"I'm not going to drink anymore and I won't fight with Sam. Please."

Damn, it was like having a hot poker shoved in my chest and feeling it twist as she continued.

"I promise. I don't want to be the reason you guys have to leave. I know how much you two were looking forward to this."

"That's not the reason," Caleb said softly, too softly. "We're just ready to head home."

"But what about fishing? I remember Shay mentioning something about fishing," Mercedes said.

Her gaze swung to mine, her eyes wide, pleading for me to somehow change this.

"There's still stuff to do," she finished.

"She's right," I jumped in. "Man, you guys don't have to do this."

Caleb drew in a deep breath and he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"We're leaving in about two hours." His tone said the decision had been made. He reached for the door, sliding it open. "But I'm going to make some omelets, with green peppers and mushrooms. Yum."

Mercedes didn't move, as she stared at the closed glass door, but then she turned to me, her lower lip trembling.

"I've ruined everything."

Stay safe!