Disclaimer: On first chapter.
ENJOY.
May 15, 2011 (Monday)
Lima Bean Café
Lima, Ohio
7:27AM
Sam had just pulled into a parking space when he spotted Mercedes climbing out of her BMW. She wore a pair of dark skinny jeans and a sunflower yellow shirt with a halter top. The top of it looked structured with a sweetheart neckline and a thin strip of brown silk formed an empire waist. The rest of it was layered and blowy and it fluttered softly in the breeze.
Sam liked that she wasn't wearing a cardigan today because he could see her shoulders and soft skin. She had on a pair of dark brown ankle boots and her hair tumbled over her shoulders in some pretty curls. Sam thought his lady looked spectacular. It made him slightly self-conscious about his v-neck white t-shirt, jeans, and green chucks.
He even put on cologne today—something that earned him a smirk from his father at the breakfast table. Why Sam was suddenly worried about how he looked in front of Mercedes was a mystery—she had seen him in various states of disarray before and she hadn't cared; Lynn assured him that it was the whole new relationship thing.
Without wasting any more time, Sam turned off the ignition of his truck and stepped out after opening the door. He tucked his wallet into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, before closing the truck door. He had just locked his doors when he felt a touch on his arm.
Sam glanced over and smiled when he saw Mercedes standing next to him. She looked even prettier up close. Her eyelids were dusted with this gold shimmery stuff and for some reason her brown eyes stood out even more than normal. Her lips were glossed in this soft pink that drove Sam crazy—all he wanted to do was taste it.
"Hey beautiful," he said softly before he leaned over and placed a kiss on her mouth. She tensed a little, but then he felt her smile slightly as she kissed him back.
"Hi Sam," she greeted as soon as he pulled away. She stepped away from him and he frowned. He caught on though when she sent a meaningful look towards the windows of the coffee shop.
He nodded in her direction. Sam shifted to toss his keys into his backpack and when he turned around—he caught Mercedes staring. A blush lit up his face, but he sent her a smug grin. Mercedes gave him an embarrassed smile, but she shrugged at him. "I have a thing for guys in white t-shirts and jeans—especially if he's blond and calls himself my boyfriend."
After that sassy comment, she turned on her heel and walked towards the coffee shop. Sam's face was red, but his grin was smug and appreciative.
He followed after her for a moment—shamelessly admiring the view—but caught up to her quickly enough.
"Are you ready for the last week of junior year at McKinley?" he asked and Mercedes laughed.
"I'm ready for it to be the last week," she said as Sam opened the door to the coffee shop, "but I'm not ready for the exams that are coming up on final exam day. I haven't studied half as much as I should have the past couple of weeks because of a certain someone."
Sam couldn't help but smirk at her as she breezed past him with a pointed look. He let the door swing closed behind him as he followed her in.
"It's not my fault that I'm so attractive," he teased.
"Yeah, it's not my fault that someone decided to smack my ass with yellow paint and then lay one on me either."
"You liked it—"
"Oh, look who's here!" The sound of Kurt's voice interrupted their flirting abruptly. Sam and Mercedes glanced over at the same time—quickly enough to see Blaine turn around in his chair to look at them. Sam inconspicuously took a step away from Mercedes.
"Hey guys, what are you doing here?" Blaine asked; his voice reflecting his cheerfulness. Sam stared a bit—Kurt's cheeks were red and Blaine looked like he'd been slapped by the sappy romance monster.
They both seemed utterly blissed out and his mind totally went to inappropriate places before he made himself remember that they were in a café and couldn't have possibly done some of those things.
Mercedes seemed to be frozen in a stupor. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, before he made this strange hand movement that had no purpose. It looked even weirder once he realized how pointless the gesture was and aborted it halfway through.
"Oh, just getting a coffee," Sam said weakly—he was horrible at lying.
The judging look Mercedes shot him told him just how unconvincing he'd been. He gave her the judgment eyeball back—it wasn't like she'd said anything either.
"We ran into each other in the parking lot," Mercedes blurted—her voice way calmer than Sam's had been, but she still sounded off. Sam was positive that this wasn't going to end well for them or their secret relationship. If it wouldn't be a dead giveaway, Sam would've facepalmed.
How did they expect to keep this on the down low if they both sucked at lying? Sam was distracted from his thoughts by Blaine speaking up.
"We're on our way to pick up some sheet music for my Six Flags audition tomorrow," he told them—and he sounded excited, but nervous.
"Whereas I'm spending my summer composing my musical Pip Pip Hooray, a Broadway musical about Pippa Middleton," Kurt said with a bright smile in their direction. Sam tried to match that name to anything he knew, but it was not working.
Who would name their child Pippa or whatever?
"I-uh," Sam stuttered trying to come up with something that sounded potentially intelligent, but he decided to just tell the truth especially after he spotted the amusement on Mercedes' face, "I have no idea who that is, but it sounds totally awesome."
Mercedes laughed, jokingly nudging him in the side. He nudged her back quickly—a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glanced down at her. She let out another soft laugh before saying, "We'll see you in class."
Kurt waved as Mercedes turned away and Sam gave him a nod in return before following her—Blaine's chatter growing faint as they walked towards the counter. Once in line, Mercedes peeked over Sam's shoulder, worry creasing her brow.
"You think they know?" she whispered as she eyed Kurt and Blaine.
Sam gave her a look that was both amused and confident. He glanced at Kurt and Blaine—the two were stuck inside their own little bubble of romance—before he brought his gaze back to Mercedes.
"I don't think anybody knows," he told her honestly. Facing forward, he felt her capture his hand and entwine their fingers. "At least nobody besides the people we've told."
"You're right," she responded. There were three people in front of them in line.
"How did Quinn take it?" Sam asked as they stepped forward. He looked over at her and blinked at the bright smile on her face.
"She had suspected since Nationals," Mercedes replied, "Your little hug on stage was enough to make her curious. And your cheesy hair brushing behind the ear move made her suspicious."
Mercedes was totally sassing him and making fun of him at the same time.
"That move was not cheesy," he protested with a squeeze of her fingers. "That was suave."
Mercedes shot him a sarcastic quirk of the lips. And Sam stuck his tongue out in her direction.
"You totally fell for it!" he said, "You wanted to kiss all up on this."
Mercedes laughed. "Boy, don't even," she said, "I've got more self-control than that."
Sam hummed mockingly under his breath and Mercedes elbowed him in the side. "Hey! No abuse. And don't even think I won't get you back for your little snicker fest when we were talking to Kurt."
Mercedes gave him an innocent look as they stepped forward. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You were totally making fun of me for not knowing who Peppa Middle-whatever was," Sam answered. Mercedes cracked up.
"Peppa, Sam? Really?"
"Isn't that her name?" he asked confused.
"No, it's Pippa," Mercedes told him, "Didn't you watch the Royal Wedding?"
"Um, no," Sam replied, "I may like some girly TV shows, but I'm not about to waste precious time watching someone else's wedding."
"You are such a boy," Mercedes teased and Sam wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.
"You like it," he said causing Mercedes to laugh again as they stepped up to the front of the line.
He listened to Mercedes order a French Vanilla/Mocha latte with whipped cream and cinnamon. He ordered the same because it sounded delicious. While they were waiting in line for their order, after Sam had forcibly paid for both their drinks, Sam stepped close to Mercedes and turned towards her slightly.
She smiled at him and he smiled back. "Hey, can you come over after school today?" he asked softly.
Mercedes blinked, but she nodded. "I won't be able to come over until around dinner because Tina, Mike, and Artie and I are going to the cookie shop to do homework together. You're free to come with if you'd like."
Sam was pleased with the invitation, but he had already promised to start working with Lynn today on his dyslexia. He told Mercedes as much. "So after dinner then?" he questioned for clarification.
"Yeah," she responded, "Is there any particular reason?"
Sam wanted to talk to her about the divorce. He wanted an outside opinion and he trusted Mercedes to be straight with him. She had always been a good listener and given him good advice before. And she was his girlfriend; he wanted to share these things with her.
"I kinda just want to spend some time alone with you again," he admitted—his cheeks pinking slightly. "It was really nice being able to talk like we did Saturday night." He debated bringing up what he actually wanted to talk about, but he decided that it would do nothing but worry her during the day. It could wait.
"In that case," Mercedes replied—her expression happy but shy, "I'd love to."
Sam grinned, but he was distracted when the barista called their names. He hurried over to grab both cups. Once he had them in hand, he gave one to Mercedes and they started walking out of the door. Sam, in order to stop himself from kissing her, took a sip of his drink.
The gasp he let out startled Mercedes, but she burst out laughing at the delighted look on his face.
"Holy crap, that's good!"
Her laughter was heard in the café until the door swung shut behind them as they walked outside.
May 15, 2011 (Monday)
McKinley High School – Choir Room
Lima, Ohio
3:14PM
Their cheers filled the choir room to the brim as they got lost in the excitement of placing twelfth at Nationals. It wasn't a perfect thing by any stretch of the imagination, but they had made it that far—and that was just as much of an accomplishment as winning.
Mercedes eyed their trophy from her spot beside Puck and she could clearly see the cracks in their little group. Rachel and Finn were back together—Mercedes didn't even want to get started on that relationship. Puck and Finn had never been the same since the whole Quinn ordeal.
Santana was still pissed and she didn't look pleased to be in the same room as Finn and Rachel. Brittany was oblivious to Artie's longing stares from beside her, and Sam and Quinn—well; she had her own thoughts about that relationship.
She knew that they were friends, but Quinn had never told her if she'd actually talked to Sam about everything. And even though that was a whole cluster that she didn't want to step into—she was overjoyed to have her soul-sister back in her life and a sexy boyfriend to boot. She just wanted the New Directions to be the family that they always claimed to be—a family that didn't tear each other down or stab each other in the back.
Mercedes promised herself that she would try her best to make it happen.
May 15, 2011 (Monday)
McKinley High School – Choir Room
Lima, Ohio
5:06PM
Their celebration had lasted the entire two hours reserved for Glee. Santana and Brittany left after the cake had been eaten. Finn ducked out of the room about ten minutes after Santana—Rachel at his side. Kurt had followed the two of them with an eye roll—Finn was his ride for the week after his precious truck had broken down on a weekend drive to Dalton to visit Blaine.
Sam watched Puck and Lauren say their goodbyes before he was pulled out of his thoughts by Mike tossing a friendly arm over his shoulders.
"Are you coming with us to Cookiez?" Mike asked, "We're gonna head over and do some homework."
Sam grinned at his friend. "I'd like to, but I have plans already."
Sam could willingly admit that he had dyslexia, but he hated the fact that it caused him so much grief. As if school wasn't hard enough by itself.
Mike wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You have plans?" he asked—a teasing quirk on his lips. "What kind of plans? And do they involve a pretty girl?"
Sam blushed, because he did have a crush on Lynn at some point—though he would never tell Mercedes that—but it definitely was more of a friendship thing now.
"Yes, they involve a girl," Sam said as he playfully pushed Mike off him, "but it's nowhere near what you're thinking."
Mike hummed in response which earned him a hard punch to the shoulder from Sam.
"It's a tutor," Sam told him, "One who's supposed to help me with my dyslexia and English homework."
"I'm just playing, man," Mike replied as he fist-bumped Sam. "Good luck with your tutoring stuff!"
Sam gave him a nod as he moved over to Artie and rolled him out of the room rapidly. Sam laughed when he heard Artie shouting, "Mike! Stop! You're going to kill me—shit!" There was a loud crash and a swell of laughter.
Sam chuckled when he heard Mike shout, "It's all good! Nobody's hurt!"
"Your driver's license should be revoked!" Artie joked loudly, "If you can't steer a guy in a wheelchair down an empty hallway—I'd hate to see what you're like behind the wheel of a car."
Tina rolled her eyes as she heard the beginnings of a scuffle. "I'm going to go break up the bitchy wonder-twins," she told Mercedes—her amusement and irritation spreading through her eyes, "Meet you by the car?"
Mercedes laughed and nodded. Tina waved goodbye to Sam while he walked over to his chair and grabbed his backpack. He turned around just in time to see Mercedes release Quinn from a hug. He walked over to them.
There was a beat of awkward silence between the three. Sam knew that Quinn was informed about the change in their relationship, but he didn't know how she was going to react if they did anything romantic-ish in front of her.
"Can I walk you two ladies out to your cars?" he asked politely. Mercedes opened her mouth to say something, but Quinn beat her to it.
"Actually," she began, "I was hoping that we could talk, Sam."
Sam blinked at her. Mercedes looked slightly confused, and Quinn would barely meet his eyes. "Uh, sure," he agreed slowly—looking to Mercedes for help, but she seemed just as confused as he was.
Deciding that he didn't care about what Quinn would say, Sam turned to Mercedes and smiled at her. She looked just as beautiful now as she did when he'd last seen her this morning. Her lips weren't freshly glossed, but Sam hadn't kissed her since this morning and he wanted one—Quinn or no Quinn.
Sam leaned over towards her and he felt his lips twitch when her eyes popped wide open in surprise. She clearly hadn't expected him to kiss her, but she didn't back away when he finally came close enough to drop a kiss on her mouth. He saw her eyes dart momentarily to Quinn, but she looked back at him as soon as Sam their lips touched. It was soft and sweet and it had been less than a day, but he'd missed the feeling of her lips on his.
Jesus, he was such a sap.
Sam pulled away after a few more seconds and pressed his forehead against hers for a moment.
"I'll see you tonight?" he asked and Mercedes smiled.
"Yes," she replied before she stepped away from him. "Bye Sam, bye Quinn."
"Bye Cede," Sam called after her as she walked out of the door.
"Bye Mercy!" Quinn said.
Once Mercedes was gone—and the door shut behind her—Sam turned to Quinn. The blonde was wringing her hands together nervously and she looked a bit freaked out. Sam just hoped that this didn't get anymore awkward than it was right now.
He and Quinn were friends, but that was before he started dating Mercedes—someone she identified as her soul-sister. It almost felt like breaking the cardinal rule of never dating the sister of an ex-girlfriend. And they hadn't talked in almost a month and a half now.
The awkward silence finally got to him.
"It's been awhile since we've talked, huh?" Sam stated uncomfortably. He had no problem with his ex-girlfriend as a person, but he had never expected to be talking to her like this for a really long time or maybe never again.
"It's been awhile since we've been alone in the same room," she replied dryly. Sam sensed something in her voice, but he couldn't quite decipher it. It put him on the defensive.
"Why are you talking to me?" he asked. Quinn looked faintly shocked at his bluntness—he had never been one to abruptly demand answers.
"I need you to understand what I did."
He really didn't want to open that box of hurt. Yeah, Sam was over her, but being cheated on would mess with anybody's feelings.
"What—did you finally grow a conscience?" Sam cracked—his tone was anything but joking.
Quinn looked like she'd been slapped.
Okay, that was harsh. He had been unnecessarily cruel with that one, but he really didn't want to have this conversation. She hadn't apologized or said a word about it after she'd done it, but now she wanted to talk about it?
"I've always had a conscience, Sam," Quinn told him, "I just didn't listen to it."
"Quinn," Sam sighed, "Can we not do this?" He scrubbed a hand over his face. "We're good. We're friends. I'd like to move along now."
"Sam, we can't just keep pushing this subject away like it never happened," Quinn responded—a twinge of frustration in her voice.
"We've been doing fine so far," Sam retorted, "I don't understand why you're bringing it up now." His voice was harsher than he'd intended. She was scraping at wounds that had just healed over and he didn't like it. Would he ever catch a break?
"We're not fine." Quinn said, "You want to hate me, Sam—or maybe you do hate me. We've acted like nothing was wrong for months now! And we both know that it's not. I know I hurt you, and I know I—"
"I tried to talk to you about it a few days after I found out!" he told her sharply, "You remember that? When you first found out about my parents living in a motel and you came over? I wanted to talk about it. I begged you to tell me why and you were the one who acted like nothing fucking happened. So don't say we—we didn't start this whole charade—you did."
"I know that, Sam," Quinn responded angrily, "I was being an idiot! I should've listened to you and I should've explained myself. I wasn't ready then. I was too confused and too hurt to—"
She was interrupted by Sam slamming his fist down on the piano next to him. The discordant sound of the keys tore through the choir room. Quinn gasped and Sam couldn't bring himself to care.
"I can't believe you!" he told her, "You have the nerve to stand in front of me and tell me how hurt and confused you were?"
"Sam—"
"I gave you my world, Quinn!" Sam snapped, "I told you I loved you. I practically worshipped the ground you walked on! I allowed you to make fun of my quirks because I cared about you so damn much. I bought you a promise ring! And you threw it all back in my face like it was nothing."
"I—"
"You cheated on me," he said—barely resisting the urge to snarl the words at her. "There's not much more for me to understand there, Quinn."
He couldn't stop his lip from curling in disgust, and he felt a momentary flash of triumph at the hurt and regret in her eyes. Any satisfaction was almost immediately replaced with shame when his brain registered the sheen of tears over her green eyes.
His dad had always told him that revenge was cold and empty—and the swell of guilt he felt in his stomach proved his dad right. Damn; sometimes Sam hated being a good person.
"It's not what you think, Sam," she protested. Sam's good mood was pretty much gone by this point and he didn't like it.
"Not what I think?" he snapped, "You attached your lips to another man's while you were still with me. I can't fucking help but notice that that is exactly what I was thinking. Tell me I'm wrong."
The look he shot her was cold. She gave him a sharp look in return.
"You're not wrong," she said, "I did kiss Finn—"
"And you lied to me!" Sam hissed at her, "You lied to my face when I asked you to be honest with me."
"I can't take back what I did, Sam!" Quinn shot back at him—her tone was furious. She looked pissed as hell standing there with her fists clenched and her green eyes teary, but angry.
"You broke my trust, Quinn!" Sam shouted—his patience suddenly gone. Quinn didn't seem to know what to say to that.
Sam was pissed. He hadn't wanted this to happen—all the things that he'd kept under lock and key; everything he'd felt about Quinn and how she threw him away for something she considered better. But now that it was out there—there was very little chance of him being able to reign it all in.
"What?" Quinn's voice sounded quiet following Sam's yell.
"You didn't just break my heart, Quinn," Sam told her—he could feel the tears burning at the back of his eyes. His throat was tight and his voice was cracking—she had practically destroyed him when she walked all over him. He had invested his everything into that relationship. "You took the trust I gave you and you just shit on it."
Quinn's eyes were watering hard now and Sam could see her fingers clutching the fabric of her dress. "Sam—I," Quinn started, but Sam shook his head at her. She stopped speaking.
"You killed everything I thought was good about myself, Quinn," Sam told her softly—her gasp sounded loud in his ears. "You made me feel inferior and like I would never be good enough for you—no matter how well I treated you. I trusted you with my heart and you threw it away like it didn't mean a goddamn thing to you."
The horrified look in Quinn's eyes made him want to cry. His heart was remembering how painful it had been to admit that Quinn was cheating on him and those memories burned in his chest.
Sam refused to cry in front of her.
He didn't want to waste another tear on the tragedy that was their relationship.
"Look, Quinn— what do you want from me?" he demanded, "I told you we were cool, and I stayed the hell out of your business with Finn. I may have forgiven you, but that doesn't mean I'm going to forget."
"I don't want you to!" she snapped—and her words took him by surprise. She stared at him, her jaw set stubbornly and a fire flickering in her eyes. He had never seen that look on Quinn before.
She looked determined. Determined to do what, he didn't know.
"I don't get it," Sam told her honestly.
Quinn let out a choppy grunt as she threw her hands in the air. "I want you to remember how it felt when I walked all over you—and your offer of happiness," she said, "I want you to remember everything you felt, because now you know the difference between infatuation and what could one day be love."
Sam stared. Quinn was insane. What the hell was she talking about?
He was taken aback when she stomped over to the row of empty chairs and plopped down in one.
"Sam, I know you're with Mercy," she said softly and Sam bit his lip in worry. Was she going to do something stupid? He knew how much it would hurt Mercedes if she did. "And Mercedes is everything that I'm not."
The admission looked like it broke her heart.
The gentleman in him wanted to go over there and comfort her—the poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears—but the boyfriend in him was like hell-to-the-no. He had to know what her intentions were before he gave her any kind of opportunity.
"She's kind, compassionate, strong, smart," Quinn said, "Mercedes is an independent and joyful woman." Sam could completely agree with all of that. He thought the same. "And I have a feeling that the two of you are going to be amazing together."
She looked straight at him. "I have a long road to travel before I can be anything like Mercedes," she said.
The look in her eyes was forceful—Quinn looked ready to battle. He was so used to a passive and pliant Quinn that it was disconcerting to see such ambition. Sam was proud of her—this change had something to do with Mercedes; he was sure of it.
His lady had a gift for instilling hope and value into those who wanted to give up.
"And it's going to start with you," Quinn finished.
During her words, he had relaxed, but after hearing that—Sam tensed again.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
"It means that I'm going to tell you why I did what I did," Quinn admitted, "The whole story."
Sam gazed at her, and he sensed nothing but honesty coming from her. And there was a hell of a lot of fear, but she hid it well.
"You can walk away now," Quinn told him, "but if you decide to stay—I'm going to trust you with a part of myself that is vulnerable to everything right now."
"I could use this against you, you know," Sam said quietly—Quinn glanced up at him. "I have every right to do so after the way you treated me. Can you accept that?"
Sam saw the flash of terror in her eyes and the sudden swell of tears before she looked away. Her response would make or break his decision.
"I-I know," she replied shakily, "but I'm going to tell you anyway. I owe you that much."
For a moment, Sam seriously considered just walking out of the room. He didn't have to give her anything and there was nothing stopping him from leaving this part of his life behind and moving forward with Mercedes. But there had always been a part of him that wanted closure—he'd always wondered why he had never been enough for Quinn. The speculation had driven him to near tears many times, and here she was—offering absolution even with the knowledge that he could be spiteful.
Sam stared at her—her hands were in her lap, head bowed. She looked just as immaculate as she always did, but there was a sadness that radiated from her that he hadn't paid attention to before. He'd seen that type of sadness and despair before—in his own eyes after his mother walked out on their family.
He knew what it felt like to have everything ripped away from you, and as angry and hurt as he was—Sam never wanted anyone else to feel that way; especially not someone he called his friend.
With a sigh, Sam moved over to Quinn and slowly sat down beside her. She looked up at him, green eyes wide and Sam pulled his backpack off his shoulder.
"I'm listening," he said and Quinn sucked in a shaky breath as her eyes filled with tears.
She started talking—her voice clogged with sadness and regret. Each word trembled as she told him about having Beth and the days after. She was crying by the time she got to her postpartum diagnosis and she was sobbing as she told him about her severe depression and why she'd treated him and Finn like they meant nothing.
Sam's heart ached for her—or maybe it hurt for himself—because he had fallen for a girl too damaged to appreciate love and now he understood why.
A relationship was the last thing Quinn had needed at the time and he hadn't seen that, which made this whole disaster partly his fault—and she still wasn't ready to have someone love her. She needed to love herself first and the self-hatred he could feel coming from her told him that she had a long way to go.
When Quinn told him about wanting commit suicide after the funeral—Sam's anger was completely obliterated. Quinn could barely talk anymore because she was crying so hard, and Sam couldn't stop himself from pulling her into his embrace.
Her whole body vibrated with the force of her sobs and she clutched his shirt. "Jesus, Quinn," Sam whispered into her hair; rocking her lightly and rubbing his hands up and down her back in an attempt to give her some comfort.
"I'm so sorry, Sam," she cried, "I am so sorry."
"Shh," he told her, "It's going to be okay, Quinn. You're going to be okay. You have Mercedes and me and you don't have to go through this alone anymore."
For over twenty minutes, Sam tried his best to sooth a distraught Quinn and when her crying finally slowed down into hiccups and sniffles—Sam pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy and tear tracks mixed with eyeliner crisscrossed along her cheeks.
She looked miserable and the pain in her eyes made him feel like the biggest douche on the face of the planet for having talked to her that way even though he knew his anger was justified.
"Will you ever be able to forgive me?" she asked—her voice thick with residual tears.
Sam had to think for a moment. "I already have, Quinn," he told her, "but I—it's going to take a lot longer for me to be able to trust you again."
"Do you understand now?" she questioned, "You know that I didn't mean to hurt you?"
"Quinn," Sam responded as he moved away from her. Quinn used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe her face clean. She frowned at the black mark now on the cloth. "Even if you were sick—you still went into a relationship not caring how it would affect me. I understand why you did it, but you were also aware of what you were doing and illness doesn't release you from taking responsibility. I feel for you. I wish none of this had happened to you, but you dated me to try and correct your problem—not because you cared."
"I—I really I didn't mean to hurt you, Sam."
"I know you didn't mean to hurt me, but you did. And then you did nothing to fix it afterwards."
Quinn looked down at her hands. "Will we ever be able to be friends again—real friends?"
"I think so," Sam replied—he was uncertain to say the least. He wasn't angry anymore, but hurt didn't just evaporate with an explanation even if it was a good one. "It'll take time, but I'm willing to try—if you are."
Quinn gave him a weak, but sincere smile. "I'm definitely willing to try."
Sam glanced at the cheap watch he still wore on his wrist and he cursed. "Crap! I am so late!" he said as he practically leapt out of his seat. Quinn looked startled by his sudden panic.
"Sam—"
"I'm sorry Quinn, but I have to go!" he told her as he threw his backpack onto his back. "I was supposed to meet Lynn for tutoring almost an hour ago. Shit! I hope she's not mad."
Quinn blinked. "Wait—Lynn? You mean Mercedes' aunt?" she questioned, her tone bewildered.
"Wha—oh, yeah! She's not her aunt by blood, but my family is living with her and my dad works for her."
"Oh—okay," Quinn stammered as she stood up from her chair, "I'm glad for you."
She obviously hadn't been clued into that part of the story. "Maybe we can talk about it later?" he asked and Quinn gave him a smile.
"I'd like that," she replied.
"Bye Quinn!" he said before he hastened towards the door. Quinn's voice calling him again made him pause to look back at her.
"Be good to Mercedes," she told him, "or I'll rip your balls off."
Sam gaped at her. That was the last thing he had expected her to say. It just sounded so un-Quinn like that it threw Sam for a loop. He could tell she meant it though and he was glad that she cared about something.
"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, before he shot out of the door and sprinted down the hall.
Lynn was going to be so pissed.
May 15, 2011 (Monday)
Lynn's House
Lima, Ohio
6:11PM
Sam jumped the steps to the porch and skidded to a halt in front of the door. He used his key to unlock it and then made his way inside. The lights were on, but it was quiet in the house. He didn't hear Stevie or Stacey making a racket anywhere, but Lynn and his father's cars were both in the driveway when he pulled up.
Sam hung his keys on the hook against the wall and made his way down the hallway. He stopped when he heard the sound of someone putting the dishes away.
"Lynn?" he called.
"In the kitchen, Sam!" she replied and he made his way towards her—his backpack still on his shoulder. Sam greeted Lynn with a kiss on the cheek as soon as he walked into the kitchen.
She gave him a look.
"I'm sorry I'm late," he told her with an apologetic glance. They were supposed to have started studying at 5:30 that afternoon because Glee club ended at five, but he hadn't accounted for being pulled aside by Quinn. "Quinn needed to talk to me about some stuff."
"Is she alright?" Lynn asked as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.
"No," he replied honestly, "but I think she will be."
Lynn gave him a concerned look, but she didn't pry. He was grateful for it. She knew the whole story about Quinn already, and he honestly didn't feel like talking about it anymore at the moment.
"Where are Stacey and Stevie?" he asked as he dropped his backpack on the counter. Lynn gave him a stack of dishes to put away as soon as he turned around. He pouted and she gave him a sarcastic quirk of the lips as she moved away.
"They're with your father," she told him. Sam put the dishes down on the counter and opened the cabinet. "They both finished their homework really quickly, so they took Marley for her walk and Jeff decided to go down to the park so the two could play on the playground."
Sam quickly finished putting the dishes away and Lynn smiled at him. "Let's get started on that homework," she said. Sam nodded and grabbed his backpack. He followed her out of the kitchen and into the downstairs office.
There were two large tables in the center of the room and bookshelves lined the walls. Two armchairs were rested in front of the large window—Sam knew from experience how comfy they were. Stevie, Stacey, and Sam generally did their homework in here because it had a very calm, but studious air. Each white oak table had four matching chairs around it, and Sam plopped down in a chair.
Lynn brought a laptop, two pairs of headphones and a workbook over to the table. Sam pulled out his mechanical pencil as Lynn sat down in the seat next to him. She had him open the workbook.
"We're going to start with a pre-test at the beginning of every session," she began as she went through the pages, "There are about a hundred or so in this book alone and this is stage one. It'll take us about a year to get through all three stages. Every day, we'll do one or two sessions depending on how you're feeling, okay?"
Sam gave her a nod. "Are you sure you want to do this kind of thing with me for a whole year, Lynn?" he asked. "That's a lot of time that you could be using for something else." She looked at him with a fond smile.
"Yes, Sam," she replied, "There's nothing I'd rather do than help you."
The honesty in her expression had Sam swallowing hard. He was so thankful for everything that she'd already given him and his family. To have her help him with something that had caused him shame his whole life—it touched that place in his heart that had been wounded so badly when his mother left them to suffer.
"Thank you," he told her and Lynn pulled his head towards her. She placed a kiss on the side of his forehead.
"You're welcome, Sam," she responded, before she picked up with the instructions. "So, a pre-test at the beginning of each session and a post-test at the end—just so we can gauge your improvement. I don't want you to be disappointed if your results stay the same or if they're less than what you were expecting." Lynn made sure to meet his eyes and he knew that she was serious.
"This isn't going to be easy," she said, "You're going to get frustrated and you're going to hate looking at something and not knowing how to change it. But you will improve and it will get better. I want you to promise me right now that you won't quit."
That was a hard pill to swallow. No one liked failure—especially not him, and Lynn was telling him bluntly that there would be lots of it. He didn't like it, but he didn't want to sit back and do nothing. He hadn't been raised to quit—his dad had never given up on them and he would be upset if Sam gave up on himself.
"I promise."
Lynn beamed as she flipped to the pre-test in the workbook. She handed the book to him and he got to reading as she opened the laptop and set up the program. The pre-test was a basic paragraph that he had to read silently, then read aloud. Once that was done—he had to listen to a recorded version of the paragraph and speak it along with them into the microphone on the headset.
It was one of the most humiliating things he had ever done—he stumbled over words and the recording would pause until he said the highlighted word correctly.
Sam almost cried when the score popped up on the screen, but he saw Lynn sitting right there next to him. He didn't want to say anything at all. He was so ashamed. He tore his gaze away from the screen—he knew what failure felt like, but he hadn't expected it to be this hard to swallow.
Sam felt Lynn stand and walk away, but he was surprised when she sat back down next to him—another workbook in hand and she opened a new window on the laptop screen.
Sam's vision got blurry when he realized that Lynn was working on math—something she'd struggled with profusely because of her own condition. That was the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for him. He could hardly believe it. Sam watched her shoulder her way through the practice test. Her score was higher than his, but not the greatest.
Lynn sighed heavily and Sam made a snap decision. He scooted closer to her and made a tentative move to help her—she accepted his offer with an appreciative smile. For over an hour, they worked together—the session was exactly what Lynn had warned him about; frustrating, disappointing, and Sam balked at the idea of going through this again tomorrow, but he knew that Lynn would support him through it all—and he would do the same for her.
They stopped after completing one session each. The two had been wrapped inside their own world for the past hour—and hadn't even heard his dad and Stevie and Stacey return. Sam helped Lynn put the books away and he shut down the laptop.
His brain hurt and he still had to review for his exams on Friday.
"Good job today, Sam," she told him with a bright smile as she opened her arms for a hug. He stepped into her embrace and felt himself relax into her warmth. She was so loving and encouraging and her hug was reassuring.
"You too, Lynn," he told her. She let him go and turned around to walk out of the room.
"I think I'm going to go help your dad cook dinner," she said, "Knowing him he hasn't added one vegetable to the meal." She looked exasperated, but amused. Sam laughed, but then he remembered about his after dinner plans.
"Uh, Lynn," Sam stammered as she took a step out of the door. She looked back at him, her eyebrows high on her forehead. "I was wondering if it was okay for Mercedes to come over and hang out for awhile after dinner tonight?"
Lynn blinked, before she grinned. "Of course, but make sure to let your dad know."
Sam nodded and Lynn vanished out of the doorway. He was excited to see his girlfriend again, but he actually needed to study first—or Mercedes would kill him.
With a groan, Sam pulled his notebook out of his backpack and trudged over to the armchair. He dropped down into the soft cushions and started studying. At least he was comfortable—and would see his lady in less than an hour.
May 15, 2011 (Monday)
Lynn's House
Lima, Ohio
8:19PM
Dinner had been a quick affair of green beans, mashed potatoes, and steak. Lynn, of course, made a salad to go along with it. She put extra carrots on his dad's plate just to spite him after his dad claimed that she was trying to turn him into a rabbit.
It was pretty funny. He got to hear all about Stacey's recital rehearsal and Stevie's science class. Since he had some chores to finish—Sam put his dishes in the sink and practically ran to collect the laundry and start the washing machine. He filled Marley's empty food bowl and gave her fresh water, before he tidied up the library again and put away all of his text books and backpack.
Sam made sure his bed was made and that there were no clothes on the floor. He had just finished making sure his room was clean when he heard the doorbell ring.
"I got it!" he yelled as he ran out of his room and practically slid down the hallway in his socks. Sam pounded down the stairs and had to stop to catch his breath before he opened the door.
He glanced up to see his dad trying not to laugh and Lynn was practically dying as she giggled into a couch cushion. They were turned around, sitting on their knees and peering over the back of the couch—Stacey and Stevie were copying their position in between two of them. They had a direct view of the front door.
"Excited, are we?" his dad asked—the teasing glint in his eyes made Sam want to crawl under a rock and die. Stacey was smiling and Stevie was snickering into his hands.
Sam blushed furiously which made Lynn laugh harder. He turned away from them and straightened his t-shirt. Sam would never admit to running his fingers frantically through his hair before he opened the door, but his dad clearly saw him because he let out a bark of laughter.
Oh, the embarrassment. It was so worth it though when he opened the door and Mercedes gave him a warm smile. He couldn't resist smiling back at her. "Hi Sam," she said and he opened the door wider to let her inside.
"Hey Cede," he replied as she stepped past him. He shut the door and turned to face her. He was taken aback to see the kissy faces his whole family was making at them and Sam slapped a hand across his face.
Mercedes laughed loudly at his reaction—and probably at the bright red blush he could feel spreading across his cheeks.
"Lord, it's starting already," she bemoaned and Sam let out an embarrassed chuckle as he peered at her through his fingers. There was an expression of slight embarrassment on her face, but she didn't seem to care too much. She pulled his hand off his face and smiled. "I expect it'll be much worse when my family finds out."
He groaned at that observation, because it was probably true. "I'm pretty sure the playfulness comes after the death threats," he told her, "Quinn already threatened to rip my balls off if I wasn't good to you."
"Sam!" Mercedes exclaimed as she poked him hard in the stomach. "Kids are present."
He laughed at the disapproving expression on her face. "I was quoting your friend! Why am I getting abused?"
"Because you said it around Stevie and Stacey!" she retorted, "And honestly, it's not like I won't hurt you if you aren't good to me."
Sam blanched slightly. "Eh, good point."
Mercedes laughed at the look on his face, before she turned on her heel and walked towards the living room. Sam followed her. Greetings and hugs were exchanged over the back of the couch. Sam and Mercedes were both blushing with all of the teasing comments and jokes being told.
Sam finally got the courage to ask to leave about ten minutes later. "Dad, can we go up to my room?" he asked.
Jeff's eyes zeroed in on him and Sam had to resist shrinking back.
"Leave the door open," he told them both—"Wide open."
Sam saw Lynn touch his dad's arm and his father relaxed slightly. "No hanky panky, you two!" Lynn said and Sam's face felt like it was on fire. He saw Mercedes blush from the corner of his eye. They both nodded quickly.
"We're trusting you," Lynn said.
Yeah, they both got the message loud and clear—fuck this up and you'll be watching the wiggles with Stevie and Stacey for a date.
Sam kissed Stevie and Stacey goodnight, before he absently offered his hand to Mercedes. He felt her hand grasp his and he pulled her along behind him—up the stairs and into his bedroom.
"Make yourself at home," he told her before letting her hand go.
He made sure to prop the door open—all the way against the wall—as Mercedes placed her backpack and keys on his desk. She kicked off her ankle boots with a relieved sigh.
"Such a long day!" she said as she stretched her arms above her head. "It was fun, but I'm ready for summer."
Sam smiled at her, before he crawled onto his bed. Mercedes stared at him when he stretched a hand out to her.
"What are you doing?" she questioned warily.
"Cuddle with me?" he asked and Mercedes let out a huff of laughter.
"You are the only teenage boy who would blatantly ask someone to cuddle with them," she said in amusement. He shrugged.
"I ask for what I want," he replied and Mercedes shook her head in fond exasperation, but she took his hand and made her way onto the bed. Sam pulled her into his embrace and laid back against his stack of pillows.
The stress of the day just drained away as he held her. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, and she was warm and she smelled heavenly. "This is nice," she said into his chest. Sam kissed the top of her head.
He felt her start playing with his fingers and he had to smile. "I promise my hand is the same as it was yesterday."
She laughed. "You have nice hands," she told him as she weaved their fingers together. She looked up at him and he couldn't help but kiss her.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," he whispered. Her brow furrowed in concern at the telling look on his face.
"Go ahead," she replied.
"My dad told me that he was going to start looking for my mom," he said, "The court won't let him legally divorce her until he's provided significant proof that he attempted to look for her and came up empty."
"Jesus, Sam," Mercedes breathed—her brown eyes filled with worry. "That must've been hard to hear."
"Definitely not my idea of pleasant," he stated dryly. "I just—I don't really know how I feel about it. On one side, I'm glad the lying, cheating bitch will be out of my life forever, but on the other side—she's my mom. This is the woman who raised me to respect people and to love life as it was, but she's also the woman who broke those same morals and then abandoned us because she couldn't handle the stress anymore."
"Sam," Mercedes said, "I can tell that this has you all conflicted, and I'm not sure what to tell you."
Conflicted was definitely a word for what he was feeling. He closed his eyes when she placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw.
"Think of what will be the best thing for your family," Mercedes told him, "What will make them the happiest—what will make you the happiest? Is holding onto this hatred really going to do you any good in the long run?"
"No," he admitted, "but I can't just drop it like it doesn't hurt me."
"I'm not asking you to," she responded, "I just want you to accept that she hurt you and then stop giving her the power to do so. You deserve to be happy and no, it won't come immediately, but you do have the strength to cap off her ability to hurt you emotionally."
"Sometimes I wish I had come home early enough to stop her from leaving that night," Sam said, "I wonder how different our lives would be."
"There's one reason that I'm grateful for Elizabeth leaving," Mercedes stated—causing Sam to gape at her.
"What's that?" he questioned.
"My relationship with you," she replied, "I believe we would have gotten closer as friends, but I don't think any romantic feelings would have developed for a long time."
Thinking about it now—she was right. He broke the day she sang that song to him, and without that sudden trust—he wasn't sure their relationship would've taken the same course. It was a scary thought to think that he might've passed this up.
"In that case—I'm glad too." Mercedes smiled at him before placing her head back down on his chest and resuming her play with his fingers. They just cuddled for a long time—Sam eventually told her all about his conversation with Quinn and Mercedes told him about her similar encounter in New York. He listened and laughed when Mercedes recounted her afternoon with Mike, Tina and Artie. The stories she told had them both giggling. When it was nearing eleven o'clock, Mercedes reluctantly got up to leave.
Sam walked her to her car—their hands entwined.
"Will you be my date to Stacey's recital this Thursday night?" he asked after she'd tossed her backpack into the passenger side seat. Mercedes beamed.
"I'd love to," she replied.
Sam let her drive away after a sweet goodnight kiss. He watched until her tail lights disappeared around the corner. Sam walked back into the house with a large grin on his face.
Tell me what you thought! Until next time! :D Have a good weekend!
