Quinn repressed the urge to tap her fingers on the table, forcing herself to inhale the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked biscotti instead. Glancing at the clock, the minutes passed agonizingly slowly. Where is he?
An eternity later, the artist saw his head of blonde hair and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hey, sorry I took so long," Sam apologized, offering her a sheepish smile. "I wanted to go home first and drop off my family. I didn't know how long this would take. You made it sound like a really big deal, so I thought you'd rather my family not be waiting for me in the parking lot."
Quinn smiled back—of course Sam would have to go home first instead of leaving directly from church. Not every teenager has his—or her—own car. She waited until he was settled, hot chocolate in hand, before speaking.
"So, you probably want to know why I asked you to meet me here," she began. Sam nodded, but didn't interrupt, so she continued. "I…I have something I want to tell you. I'm not going to die or anything," she added when she saw his look of alarm, "but it is important."
The boy waited patiently for her to go on.
Quinn bit her lip. I think I'm going to be sick. "Sam, I…I'm seeing someone," she finally managed, clenching her coffee cup and staring at the lid.
Her ex looked confused. "Okay. Is that it? We broke up so long ago, and I know we're just friends, if that's what you're worried about. Why is this a big deal?"
The cheerleader looked away. Please don't hate me, she prayed.
"Do I know him? Is he from a different school? Is he from Dalton? Are you dating the enemy? Oh God, it's not Finn again, is it? Please tell me you're not going back to him!" Sam demanded, worried by Quinn's silence.
"No!" she yelled, jerking her head up to face him. Several people turned in their direction, so she lowered her voice. "No, it's not Finn, or a guy from Dalton. It's…not a guy at all," she whispered, shutting her eyes.
When she opened them, instead of seeing disgust, or anger, or even pity on his face, she saw…happiness?
"Why are you smiling?" she asked gruffly. Sam laughed.
"Because I'm happy for you!"
Well this was unexpected.
"Wait, what? Why?" probed Quinn incredulously. Is this really not a big deal to him?
Her companion shrugged. "Well, if you're telling me about it, then you must really like this not-guy you're dating, right? And if you like this person, then you must be happy."
Sam's grin widened as Quinn processed this information.
"So…you're not mad?" she asked tentatively.
Sam shook his head. "Not at all. Look, we're friends now. I just want you to be happy. And I know you weren't when we were together, or you wouldn't have cheated on me with Finn. And if you were happy with Finn, you wouldn't have cheated on him with Puck. And if you were happy with Puck—"
"I get it!" Quinn shouted, once again earning curious glances from surrounding tables. At a volume more reasonable for a coffee shop, she added, "God, I'm a truly awful girlfriend, aren't I? How can you not hate me for cheating so much?" The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, she thought bitterly.
Her friend hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I don't consider it really cheating anymore. I mean, it hurt like hell when it happened, but looking back, I think I know why you did it."
Quinn frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I think…I think you were trying to convince yourself that you liked us in that way. That you were, you know, in to guys."
The afternoon passed as Sam sipped his hot chocolate and Quinn examined her certainly dysfunctional previous relationships. When she finally mustered the courage to tell him her "not-guy" was, in fact, glee club's own Rachel Berry, he wanted to know how they had gotten together. Sam listened supportively as Quinn babbled about how amazing her girlfriend was, and winced in sympathy when she told him about Hanna and the latest drama with her father. The artist remembered how non-judgmental Sam had been about Kurt when he first moved here.
He really is a good guy, she thought. Of all the guys I've dated, Sam is definitely the best. I'm glad we can still be friends. Finn's too clueless, and not in the sweet way that Sam is, and Puck's too…Puck. Sam is good guy, a lot like… Quinn shook her head and refocused on Sam's impersonation of Forest Gump, laughing appreciatively at his goofiness.
Eventually, facing glares from people eying their prime table and empty cups, the blondes stood to go.
As they gathered their things, Quinn said, "Thank you, Sam."
"Anytime. And I promise not to tell anyone without your permission."
"I'm really glad we're friends. And I'm sorry I ever hurt you," she added.
He grinned. "That's okay. Make it up to me by putting in a good word for me with Mercedes."
She laughed. "I'll try, if you're willing to face that huge boyfriend of hers."
He laughed too and flexed his biceps. "Deal."
They hugged solidly, Quinn resting her head against his chest, breathing in the comforting and familiar Sam-ness before kissing his cheek. He made a face jokingly and she shoved him lightly as he turned to leave.
Halfway out the door, Sam paused.
"Hey, Quinn, one more thing?"
She looked at him curiously. "Yeah, Sam?"
"You're not your dad."
The cheerleader shook her head ruefully. He sounds like Brittany; I swear those two must have been siblings in a past life. Maybe this won't be so bad. Maybe it's not that big a deal. With Sam, and Santana, and Brittany—and Rachel, of course—maybe it will be okay.
As Quinn checked her phone one last time before driving home, she thought, I wonder how Rachel's talk with Kurt went.
AN: As always, thank you for all the reviews and alerts! They keep me motivated! I'd love to know what you guys think about the story so far, and any suggestions you have. Thanks again to everyone who reads this.