:)

MERCEDES' POV

Mercedes woke up with a knot in her stomach that she couldn't shake. She leaned over to her night stand and picked up her phone, finding text messages from two men who both knew nothing about the other.

The message from Luke was a simple, "Good morning, beautiful. Enjoy your Saturday,"

She smiled as she read it, her stomach beginning to relax as she wrote a quick reply. Moving on to the next message, the knot in her stomach grew again, tighter this time and she had half a mind to turn her phone screen off, ignore the message from Sam and the plans they had together that day all together. But she drew in a few deep, slow breaths, and thought better of it. The breathing didn't make her stomach feel much better but she opened the message nonetheless.

Meet me here at 11. Sneakers might be a good idea.

A jumble of coordinates followed the last sentence and the mystery they held behind them made the knots in her stomach turn. Suddenly she moved to lie on her back, her eyes on the ceiling. Then she shut them tight and counted to ten—a method her mother had taught her when she was eight years old.

Close your eyes and count to ten. And when you open them again, the monster will be gone. But you have to close them tight, okay?

Sam wasn't a monster, per se. And she didn't necessarily want him gone. But for a long time, he had been gone—they both had been. This time last week, their relationship had been but a memory in her head. Now all the memories they ever made together were back and knocking hard on the walls of her mind, threatening to overtake the life she had in the present. So they were the monsters. And if it weren't for them, getting out of bed and getting prepared for the tour wouldn't seem so hard to her. She needed to count.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5—

The sound of her phone chiming interrupted her and her eyes shot open. She sighed loudly before picking her phone up from her stomach and finding another message from Luke.

I miss you.

A wave of guilt fell over her as she read it and before she could even respond, another message from him came through—

Up to no good today? :P

Her stomach dropped.

I really hope not, she thought. Swallowing, she dropped her phone down on her stomach and laid down flat again. Then she shut her eyes tight.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…

The counting hadn't worked but a single shot of vodka with her breakfast might have done the trick. She wasn't drunk, she wasn't tipsy. She was just good.

After showering and dressing in a pair of back jeans, a frumpy cute grey sweater, and her black sneakers, she headed down to the street to hail a cab. On the ride to her destination, she quickly realized that she didn't have a clue what that destination was exactly. The surroundings they were driving through were nothing short of unfamiliar and soon she began to question just how much she trusted Sam.

The cab stopped in front of a small building and when she looked out the window she found Sam and a man she didn't recognize standing in front of it.

"You made it," Sam said as she closed the door to her taxi. The dark haired man next to him smiled at her, offering his hand.

"I did," she said to Sam before taking the man's hand and shaking it. "Hello," she greeted and then turned her gaze back to Sam as the man released her hand. "Who's this?"

"Our tour guide," Sam said. Her eyes narrowed and Sam smiled. "Arthur, this is Mercedes. Mercedes, this is Arthur. He's a tour guide from the tour service voted number 2 out of the top 10 in the country."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Arthur said, offering his hand again before he seemed to remember they'd already shaken hands, and placing his hand at his side again.

"You, too," Mercedes said, her eyes still narrowed in confusion. "Sam, what is this?" she waved her hand to signal to the general situation.

Sam sighed and looked over to the man next to him.

"Artie, will you give us a sec?"

"Sure thing, boss. I'll grab you guys a couple maps from my car," Arthur said before heading off in the other direction.

"What's going on, Evans?" Mercedes said sternly once Arthur was gone.

"You may have changed some, Mercedes Jones, but you're still all work, no play," Sam said.

"What's your point?"

"How often do you drive further than the streets your job and apartment are on?"

She blinked, her mind going blank. He wasn't necessarily right, but he wasn't necessarily wrong either.

"Sam-"

"You hesitated," he said quickly.

"Because I-"

"You couldn't pay me to let you give me the half-assed tour you had up your sleeve, Jones."

Her neck snapped back slowly and she crossed her arms upon her chest.

"Plus this one comes with a lunch do-over at a seafood restaurant you've probably never been to," he smiled.

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"So, what'd 'ya say, you up for it? Meter's running."

She shook her head, suddenly reminded of just how frustrating it was that he could always read her like a book. She exhaled, considering what she should do as Sam watched her intently, only looking away at Arthur when he began to approach them again.

"Well?" Sam said. She huffed one final time before saying,

"Fine."

SAM'S POV

The tour had been extensive and tiring to say the least. They'd pounded the pavement up and down the streets of the city and seen sites in Manhattan like the famous Time Square, Central Park, and Little Italy. They'd hopped in a taxi to Long Island City then pounded the pavement again through South and East Williamsburg, and even stopped off at the East River Bridge. It was exhausting and exhilarating and every other word that was synonymous with exciting because he was standing so close to Mercedes Jones the entire time. The only downside had been that by the time they were halfway through, Nicole had called him four times. And he'd ignored her call, four times. But he couldn't feel guilty, not in the moment, not when he was with her.

Once the tour was over, Arthur had led them to thee restaurant they would be eating lunch and then he'd taken off. So now they were sitting at a picnic table at LoLo's Seafood Shack. It was a restaurant that looked like it belonged on a beach in the Caribbean. Sam had been struggling to crack open the snow crab legs he'd ordered and Mercedes had been practically dying of laughter—a sound that made the pain in the ass crabs he could barely open worth the failing effort.

"Sure you don't wanna use the crab mallet?" she said, trying to contain her laughter as he attempted for what seemed to be the hundredth time to crack open a crab leg with his teeth.

"Positive," he muttered. She shook her head, chuckling as she watched him. Then as if out of natural instinct, she reached forward, and took the snow crab leg from his mouth, her fingers grazing his lips and sending warmth through his entire body. Sam froze for a moment and then when she seemed to realize what she'd done, she froze, too. Neither of them said a word for a moment or two, and neither of them moved. And then she cleared her throat, cracking open the crab leg with her hands.

"Maybe just focus on your shrimp for now, tough guy?" she told him with a smug smile, "I'll open a few of these for you." she said. He smirked, shaking his head as he looked into his pot and picked up a piece of shrimp.

"So who are you now, Sam Evans?" she said, pulling the crab meat from the shell and dropping it back in his pot, and then discarding the shells into the bucket next to them on the floor. Then she grabbed another crab leg from his pot and started to open it.

"I honestly don't know," he laughed. "I'm the guy who doesn't know how to eat crab legs properly apparently."

Mercedes chuckled.

"A very evasive answer," she said. "Should we start with something less personal?"

"I didn't realize we were doing the whole catch up conversation today. I'd have prepared cue cards." He took a sip of his water.

"Do you like your job?"

"Love my job," he said.

"Keeping you rich?" she fired back. He half chuckled.

"I wasn't rich, my parents were," he paused before correcting with, "Are."

"I'll rephrase," she said. "Is your job sustaining the wealth your parents gave you, rich boy?"

Sam laughed.

"If you must know, yes. That seems like the kind of question you ask on a third date but I'll give you a pass for that intrusion since you've seen me naked already."

"Inappropriate," she said as she fought laughter. "And this isn't a date, Sam."

"I know," he said and at the same time he felt his phone vibrate his pocket. Nicole again, he would guess. Reaching down, he grabbed the outline of his phone through his pocket and pressed the button on the side of it to silence the vibration before she could hear it.

"How's your sister?" she was saying as he started to look back up. The question caused his heart and stomach to simultaneously stop and flip respectively. It was only when Sarah was brought up in casual conversation that he would feel just how fresh the wound still was.

"Sarah, um—she passed. About a year ago," he said, and the words tasted like poison rolling off of his tongue.

Mercedes' shoulders drop, her mouth opening and then closing again quickly and her eyes blinking rapidly.

"Sam, I'm—"

"The seizures she'd been having?" he began, "They never stopped. They kept showing up at all the wrong times. At her college interview, in her first day of class, at her first college party—they wouldn't stop and she was always so embarrassed. She quit college, stopped leaving the house and stopped communicating with pretty much everyone beyond me and my parents. She couldn't walk and I guess she started to feel like, with the seizures, she could barely live either." He shook his head, tears beginning to swell in his eyes. "She tried to make it look like an accident. But they found all the pills in her system afterwards."

He heard Mercedes' breathing hitch and then her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. But she was silent. He didn't really expect her to say anything. He didn't even know why he'd said all the things he'd said. He sighed. And if he had blinked he would have missed her quickly wipe away the tear that was sliding down her cheek. It was then that he remembered that his sister hadn't been just a stranger to Mercedes. They'd spent real time together during the four years that he and Mercedes were together and they'd grown close just as he had hoped they would. He was angry at himself, all of a sudden, for not thinking to call her when it had happened. She shouldn't have had to find out like this.

"Mercedes, I'm sorry—"

"No, I'm sorry," she said, looking down at her lap as she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

He smiled a small smile and nodded.

"It's fine," he said, but he didn't mean it. The table fell silent for a moment and he wasn't sure how to get them out of this moment but he knew that he had to. He grabbed another snow crab leg from his pot and offered it to her. "Back to work," he said with a smile. She chuckled weakly and took it from him.

"Just one more," she said.

Their conversation never quite returned to normal after that, though they did continue to share a few laughs. When they were done eating, Sam sat back in his chair, holding his stomach and letting out a deep breath.

"How much is all of this gonna cost anyway?" Mercedes said, finishing up cleaning her hands with a wet nap before grabbing her purse from the back of her chair.

"That's none of your concern," he said. She rolled her eyes and he chuckled. "You knew I was gonna say that, right?"

"I suspected," she said.

"Yet you still asked."

"It's been 6 years since I've seen you, Sam. I figured maybe you'd dialed back on the southern hospitality thing."

"People don't really change that much, Mercedes."

"Apparently not—"

"Which reminds me," he suddenly said and then started to dig for his wallet. He took out the twenty dollar bill she'd left on the table of Magiello's to pay for her salad, despite his insistence that he would pay for her food. It didn't surprise him that she'd still tried to pay. It didn't even frustrate him like it always did in the past. But still, he wasn't going to let it slide. After he folded the 20 dollar bill, he handed it to her.

"What's this?" she said as she took it.

"Proof," he said.

"Proof?"

"Yep," he said, stuffing his wallet back in his pocket. "That people don't really change."

"You were always good at decorating, right?" Sam said. They'd been riding in a taxi for about thirty minutes towards his apartment and they were almost there. Tower 47 was in the same general direction as hers so they figured they'd share one.

"I guess?" she said.

"My apartment's pretty bland—and this is not a ploy to get you to come into my apartment—I just really could use some suggestions. It doesn't feel homey."

She smirked and looked at him before saying,

"This is definitely a ploy—"

"—Fine, it's a ploy," he said and she nodded. "But it's only because," he shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not ready to just say goodbye to you yet," he said.

Mercedes' eyes softened.

"Sam—"

"This isn't me flirting with you, Mercedes."

"I know."

"I just feel like I'm never gonna see you again after this," he admitted. "It's a big, busy city. We're just a couple of busy people inside of it. We haven't seen each other in six years because we were so far away from each other. Now we're in the same city. But I still feel like I'm gonna blink and another six years are gonna go by."

"And me coming up to your apartment with you—what's that gonna do?"

"I'm not sure. But I really enjoyed myself today. And I have this weird feeling that you're gonna dodge my calls, texts, and emails after this. So I'm not ready to let you out of my sight. Not yet."

He saw her inhale deeply and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Her decision came just as soon as they pulled in front of his building.

"Okay," she said. "We're just friends, Sam. But okay."

He smiled.

"Okay," he said.

Sam handed the driver an appropriate amount of money as Mercedes stepped out of the taxi. He followed afterwards, hearing her make some kind of ooh noise as she looked up at the building.

"Come on," he said, leading her towards the guard at the front door. Sam nodded at him and he opened the door, allowing them through.

"Sam this is really nice. A lot nicer than the building my job set me up with when I first started," Mercedes said as her eyes darted around the large lobby.

"It's alright," he said as they headed for the elevator. "Everyone wears suits."

"I see," she chuckled. "Hope you've stocked up, country boy."

"Very funny—"

"Sam?" a voice suddenly called. Sam froze. He knew that voice. But that voice wasn't supposed to be here in New York City. His heart picked up speed as he turned around and found Nicole standing in front of one of the lobby chairs, with a suitcase at her feet. She smiled at him and waved softly. He blinked his eyes because in the moment he felt unable to move any of his other body parts.

"One of your co-workers?" Mercedes said next to him. Sam closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed and then opened them again.

"No," he said, his eyes still on Nicole, who was rolling her suitcase towards them. "She's my girlfriend." The word felt stupid to say to Mercedes. It made his skin crawl a little.

Mercedes was quiet for a moment before replying almost inaudibly,

"Oh."

Oh?

Oh?

This is not happening, he thought. But the chaste kiss that Nicole dropped on his lips once she'd stopped in front of them said differently.

"I've been calling you," she said, pushing her brown bangs behind her ears.

"I was out with my-," he almost laughed, completely clueless as to what to call Mercedes. "Nicole, this is Mercedes. Mercedes, this is Nicole," he said.

"Hi," Mercedes said, extending her hand.

"Nice to meet you," Nicole said as she shook her hand. It was silent for a moment after their hands had fallen to their sides again and Sam couldn't bear to look at Mercedes. But he turned his gaze to her when she suddenly broke the silence.

"I should go," she said. "Sam, we can talk about decorating your apartment another time, okay? I'll send a few interior designers I know your information," she nodded and smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes. And then she turned back to Nicole. "Great meeting you," she said, just before she took off towards the exit.

"She seemed nice," Nicole said. "One of your co-workers?"

Sam had taken off after Mercedes before the question had left her mouth in its entirety.

"Mercedes!" he called as he ran, almost colliding with her back when she suddenly came to a stop. "Mercedes I—"

"I'm seeing someone, too," she blurted as she turned around to face him.

His chest felt like it had caved in, he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. And the only word that he could manage was,

"Oh."

"Yeah." She nodded. "So just, don't feel bad, okay?"

And then without a parting word, she was gone. He was watching the woman who six years ago, he'd thought was his future, walk away from him. But she was with someone else. How had he, in a matter of five hours, allowed himself to slip into a bubble where their separation had never happened? Where they were still together, still in love, and where she was still his future?

She was with someone else.

And the sound of a suitcase rolling against the marble floor in his direction was enough to remind him that so was he.

Thoughts?