AN: Your reviews made me smile and work extra hard on this chapter Hope you like it. (:

Chapter 2: Too Soon.

xox

"Quinn…" Mercedes realized her hand was still resting on Sam's well-built chest. She hastily snatched it away and placed it in her lap, as if the hand's current hiding place would erase its former resting spot. "I… what are you doing here?"

"Looking for Sam." Her eyes flicked over to her ex-boyfriend. "Someone told me that he was here last night, and I came here on the hope that he might return…" She bit her lip. "Now I know why he came here."

Realization dawned on her. "Oh no, Quinn this isn't what it looks like—" she winced; how had she fallen so low as to be spouting clichés?—"we just met here, we didn't plan this, we just—just—"

"Were caught up in the heat of the moment," finished Sam.

Two accusatory gazes were instantly leveled upon him. Caught up in the heat of the moment? Mercedes fumed. It sounds like we're two animals or something.

"Oh really," said Quinn. "Looks like you've gotten over me rather quick, Sam. Mercedes—how long have you been in love with my ex-boyfriend?"

"In love?" she squeaked. "Never! I'm not!"

"So this is just a fun one-night fling?"

"No, no—! It's nothing!" Mercedes' words came out more forcefully than she'd intended, giving the appearance that she was trying to convince herself as well as Quinn—which she was. From the grimace that disappeared as quickly as it had come, she knew Sam didn't think it was nothing either.

But then what the hell was it? They didn't even really know each other; just knew of each other, in a familiar way.

Quinn's eyes strayed to Mercedes' pad of paper. "What's that?"

"Uh… business reports," she lied smoothly, flipping the cover shut. She'd already revealed part of her secret last night—at this rate, the entire town would know her pen name, where she lived, and what kind of toothpaste she used.

But betrayal and love can often force the mind to jump to hysterical conclusions. Quinn's eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "I see. Journal entries, Mercedes?"

"No."

"Yeah, okay."

"They're not!" It was an awful feeling, having a close friend not believe you.

"All right, have it your way." She turned to her ex-boyfriend. "Would it really have been so hard to tell me the truth, Sam? I came to apologize to you—and to tell you I'd try to be a better girlfriend this time, to not be so clingy—but I guess that's pretty much a lost cause, isn't it?"

"Quinn…" He looked as if he were searching for words. "I… shit. I don't even know the truth anymore."

Quinn swiped at her eyes. "I'm just glad I found out before we actually got married or something. Three girls at once, Sam, that's gotta be a record."

"Two, not three." He winced. "I mean—"

"It doesn't matter," she said. "It's obvious that I'm not one of those two." She drew in a shaky breath and shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. "I just… Oh, never mind." Wiping her eyes with her hands, she walked out of the bar.

Sam stared after her, his face pained and hands outstretched, as if reaching after Quinn. Mercedes looked at those strong hands, protector's hands, now empty and protecting nothing.

"That went well," he said, slumping down into his chair again. "I've made a royal mess of things."

Mercedes quietly slid down in her chair too. "Looks like." She twirled a pen between her fingers, staring at the ancient wooden table, stained and tainted from years of spilled alcohol, cigarette ashes, and vomit. She lightly touched the surface, forcing herself not to flinch. "See, Sam? This is you right here."

He looked up, confused. "What is me?"

"This table. It's been battered and abused, and now it's stained and dirty. No matter how much you clean it, those stains won't go away." She looked him straight in the eye. "But they will fade, if you scrub them hard enough."

He laughed tersely. "What does that mean, in plain English?"

"It means it's time to clean up your life. Your mistakes won't go away, but they will eventually be less painful."

"Possibly. But right now I'm worried about the present, not the future." His face was stormy.

Mercedes scooted her chair over so that she was sitting directly next to him. "Look," she said, laying a hand on his arm, "you've screwed up. Badly. But who hasn't? Quinn will forgive you—eventually. And think of it this way: you've probably done her a favor by telling her the truth now instead of later."

"Uh huh, is that how you feel about Puck?" he said, meeting her gaze head-on.

Mercedes winced a bit but didn't back down. "No, right now I think he's a first-class bastard… a confused one whose childhood probably played a large role in his deficient commitment issues… but those are excuses. Valid ones, yes, but excuses nonetheless. I hate excuses."

"I do too," Sam said. "I never let my employees use them at work. Yet here I am making excuses for myself. Does hypocrisy come with age? Or with a certain amount of mistakes?"

"No, just weakness," she said bluntly. "Anyone can make excuses. Only a strong person can admit their failures."

"And recover from them." He took her hand and folded it within his own, squeezing tightly. Mercedes didn't protest; he was in need of comfort. "These weren't ideal meetings," he finally said with a laugh.

"Your first impression of me is a drunkard and a fool."

"No—" she protested.

"Yes. And it's true."

"My first impression of you was a lonely, hurting man who's a little confused."

"More than a little. And what makes you think I'm lonely? I was emotionally attached to two girls at once."

"But neither of them quenched that loneliness, did they?"

Sam looked at her sharply and then slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her close. "No," he admitted quietly. "And that's the worst part—all that for nothing."

"Not for nothing… you're wiser now."

"Great trade," he said bitterly.

She didn't disagree with him.

A long period of contemplative silence later, they were still sitting like that, hands entwined and Sam's arm around her. The bar was nearly empty now, the drunks having already stumbled out, and the prostitutes' wares having all been purchased.

"Will you leave soon?" he asked, speaking the first words in over an hour.

"Soon."

Neither of them moved.

"When is your next installment due? Er… chapter."

"Installment works," she laughed. "Not for a month. I have time. I just write better at night, that's all."

"And in bars?"

"No; I just needed to get out of the apartment. I'm still living with Puck, remember. I was staying with Quinn… but I guess that's out of the picture now."

Sam flinched. "Let me go talk to her. I didn't mean to evict you."

"No, don't!" Mercedes said swiftly. "It'll still be awkward. She just needs time to cool off."

"Some things can't be healed with time."

Mercedes shrugged, tucking her head back into Sam's shoulder. "Whatever."

"Maybe Puck and Quinn should get together," he joked.

"I wouldn't wish such hell on her. And besides, he already has a girlfriend. Probably two."

"Mercedes, did you ever think that maybe it was because he loved you so much that he cheated?"

Mercedes poked his side. "That makes no sense whatsoever."

"I think it does. He loved you so much he was afraid to commit—it's back to that strong verses weak comparison. He wasn't strong enough to actually go all the way and marry you. It's easier to cheat."

"That doesn't make it right. And I don't want to marry a weak man."

"Yeah…"

Mercedes suddenly realized what she'd said. "Not to insinuate that you're weak—"

"It's okay."

"—because you're not," she finished.

"What do you mean, I'm not? I just ruined the lives of three women simultaneously—and now I'm cuddling with one of them." He removed his arm from her waist and placed the hand he'd been holding in her lap.

"But you admitted it," she said, feeling cold all of a sudden without his warmth. "And you'll try to repair things, won't you?" She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him so that he was facing her. "Won't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I will," he muttered. He tentatively met her eyes. "How did you know?"

"I'm a writer, remember? It's my job to build and analyze character." She pulled him into her arms, resting her head on his shoulder again. Now things felt right. "Deep inside, Sam, I think you're a good man."

He clung to her.

"Fancy meeting you here, Mercedes."

Mercedes looked up at recognizing the familiar voice and laughed delightedly. "Sam! What are you doing here?"

"Joining you for lunch, of course." He said down in the tiny chair the quaint cafes provided. "I saw you walk in here from my office and figured I could try someplace new for my lunch break."

"How thoughtful," she smirked, taking in his appearance. She'd never seen him in his work clothes before and decided that she rather liked him in a suit and tie. "How have you been?"

They hadn't seen each other since that night two weeks ago. That night when…

"Not bad. Quinn's still a little cool, but we're progressing towards polite conversation now." He smiled humorlessly. "But don't let me be the cloud on your ray of sunshine. How are you doing?"

"Better. Getting over Puck. Who, I've heard, is very close to breaking up with his girlfriend." She looked down at her empty plate and ran a fingernail across the side. "Even though I'm still hurt, I feel sorry for him. His life is going to be one hell of a roller-coaster: composed of sky-high ups and bottom-low downs, depending on what point of a relationship he's in."

Sam reached across the table and interlocked his fingers with hers, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand. "You still love him don't you?"

"No," she said.

"Mmhm… the lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"Whatever, Shakespeare." She pulled her hand out of his grasp and put a menu there instead. "Figure out what you want; the waitress will be returning soon."

He gave her a look. "This conversation's not finished."

"It will be when the food comes."

His brow lowered for a moment, and then he grinned appreciatively. "What do you say I pay for lunch?"

"What do you say we split it?" she countered.

"Trying to make a point?"

"Of course."

"Fine, then, we'll do half-and-half."

"You give in much too easily," said Mercedes smugly, settling back into her chair.

Sam stepped on her foot playfully. "You might want to take that back."

"And if I don't?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Then I'm afraid—" Mercedes suddenly felt her shoe slip off her foot—"I'll have to take your shoe hostage." He reached beneath the table and emerged up again with a black pump dangling from his fingertips.

"You—" Mercedes really couldn't think of anything to say. "Cheater."

"All's fair in love and war," he smirked.

Which category do we fall under? Mercedes thought fleetingly.

"Ma'am, are you ready to order?"

Mercedes jumped a bit when she realized the waitress had returned. "Oh yes… sorry… I'll have the soup of the day, please. And water."

The waitress scribbled the order down on her pad, her mouth tightening. "And you… sir?"

"Good morning, Santana," said Sam brightly, handing her the menu. "I'll have a small Caesar salad and an iced tea."

"Very good," she said icily. Then she turned on her heel and stalked away.

Mercedes turned to Sam, her eyes wide. "Santana…?"

Sam rubbed his temples. "Forgot she worked here," he mumbled.

Mercedes reached over the table and reclaimed her shoe. "And this wasn't exactly an ideal scene to look upon."

Sam suddenly looked up, his eyes flashing. "You know what, Mercedes? I don't give a damn. She knows we're over. She knows Quinn and I are over. If she wants to judge me, that's her damn problem."

"Okay, Sam," said Mercedes soothingly.

He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you like that. You were just—"

"There," she finished.

"When I needed you," he added.

He held her gaze for a minute, but then they both looked down at their plates.

Don't get too attached, Mercedes scolded herself, you'll only end up heartbroken like before. Besides, this is a great chance for you to have an actual guy friend, not just a boyfriend-slash-lover. No matter how attractive and charming Sam is.

The last thing you need, Sam told himself firmly, is another relationship. You may be attracted to Mercedes (god she's gorgeous and smart and understanding and—) but get ahold of yourself,

"So," they said simultaneously. "No, you go first."

Then, a shared smile was only the beginning of the most enjoyable lunch break either of them had experienced in a long time.

Mercedes glanced up at her clock, noting the time. Eight p.m. She stretched and spun around in her swivel chair. The words just weren't coming tonight. She was in her comfy jeans, a sweater, and socks, all the lights were on, her curtains drawn… and that cursor was still blinking at her, the bright white document on her computer mocking her.

Screw this. She saved the document and shut down her computer, grabbing the yellow pad of paper she always kept next to her monitor. 'I'm completely uninspired. And I have less than two weeks left before my deadline. How does it always come to this?'

"I always tell myself that this time I'll get done early… watch me be furiously writing the night before," she muttered aloud. After pulling on her sneakers and finding her purse, she left her apartment (with her yellow pad tucked under her arm) and walked to her car. "I wonder if Sam will be at the bar tonight…?"

She scowled and pinched her arm in remonstration. "Sam has his own life. Sam does not spend his spare time hanging around bars, you fool."

But she couldn't squelch that annoying hope that he'd be there.

Which is why she was disappointed when she entered the bar and didn't see him sitting anywhere. She claimed her favorite table in the corner and took a moment to scan the occupants of the bar again, just in case she'd missed him.

She hadn't.

Sighing, Mercedes flipped open her notepad and started doodling, hoping that her muse would soon return.

Three alka-seltzers and one hour later, she was furiously scribbling away on her yellow pad of paper, having been inspired by a conversation she'd overheard. Brilliant. It fit in perfectly with her plot and now she could exploit the characters to—

"Mind if I join you?"

Mercedes' heart leaped as she looked up from her writing. "Sam!"

She didn't even care that she was way too happy to see him.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, shooting her one of his killer smiles. "I was hoping I'd find you here."

Really? Me too. "You're in luck—I only came because of a severe lack of inspiration."

He glanced at her paper. "Oh?"

"Oh…well…I overheard a useful conversation and… yeah… I'm inspired now!" she announced happily.

"That's good," he said, leaning back in his chair and studying her contentedly. "You just keep writing. I'll watch you."

"Really? You don't mind?" She was torn between wanting to finish the scene (her hands were itching already) and talking to him.

"Take your time. I've got nothing better to do."

"Thanks…" She smiled gratefully and returned to her chapter.

Sam watched as she frantically wrote on that yellow pad of hers, part of her lower lip tucked between her teeth, her forehead furrowed in concentration. She wasn't a knockout like many women he'd seen, but there was something about her… a subtle beauty that made you want to stare at her for hours, trying to figure out what it was…

"Don't look at me like that," she murmured, eyes still on her paper.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, I can't see you. But I can feel you."

But I can feel you. "I'm sorry. I'll stop." He didn't move.

"You aren't stopping." She looked up from her paper. "See? Liar."

He smiled, amused. "Does staring unnerve you?"

"Yes. Stop it. I promise I'll be done soon."

"Okay."

She returned to her writing. Sam kept staring at her. Can she really feel my gaze?

Mercedes looked up again. "Sam!"

He rose, walked around the table, and literally picked Mercedes up, slid into her seat, and placed her in his lap. "There. Now you can't feel me stare at you."

"Yeah, now you can't feel your legs anymore." She turned around to glare at him. "Fair trade?"

"Good enough." He hooked his arms around her waist and settled more comfortably into his chair. "Go on, write."

"I can't… not like this." She sighed and capped her pen, setting it on top of her notepad. "What do you want, Sam?"

You. "To talk to you."

"Fine. How was your day?"

"Not that kind of talk."

"Which to you mean?" she said patiently.

"How do you know when you've fallen in love?"

"Oh… that kind of talk." She sighed again and leaned back against his chest. "Sorry, Sam, not tonight. My brain can't handle it."

"Try."

"You tell me. What do you think love is?"

"I don't know… that's what's killing me." He leaned his face closer to hers. "I've just broken up with my girlfriend because I was in love with my ex-girlfriend…er, ex-ex-girlfriend?"

"Ex-girlfriend to the first power," she suggested.

He tickled her. "This isn't funny."

"You started it," she said, squirming away from his hand.

"I don't understand it, Mercedes," he whispered. "Why do I care so much for you? I shouldn't. I don't want to. I'll end up hurting you."

"Are you sure?" she whispered back. "Do you want to hurt me?"

"No!"

"Are you sure you're in love?"

"No…"

"Then why try and convince yourself that you are? Being in love isn't fun."

"I know." He leaned closer to her. "But I can't help it…"

She didn't protest when he captured his lips with hers. In fact, she slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It was too soon; it was wrong. It was probably destructive and probably would turn around and catch them unaware…

But she didn't care.

It felt so right…

Her head screamed that this was wrong.

Her heart shouted that this was right.

So she ignored both irritating sages…

And followed her instinct.

AN: There you are, an early Chapter 2. I hope you review. I like knowing what people think about this story so far. I got a lot of alerts and even favs but only a few reviews..Oh well, At least people are reading. =p I will try to get the next chapter out soon. (: Tell me what you would like to happen next =p