A/N: Thanks to all that reviewed your comments really made my day. I want to kind of set this up for you. The story kind of bounces back and forth between present and past the parts with dialogue are past and if that changes I will inform you. I did something kind of different style wise so the chapters are going to a lot shorter than what I usually do, but I think it will serve this story well. So without any further delay…
I was walking down the hallway when I felt him grab my arm and snatch me into our janitor's closet.
"Hey, Mercedes, I think we need to talk."
"What about Sam." I was beginning to get tired of our secret rendezvous in the janitor's closet, in the back seat of his car, at my home when my parents weren't there, and that God forsaken motel. He looked at me nonplussed. I had never spoken to him like that. Like I couldn't care less what was about to spew from his stupid big lips. He shook from his obvious confusion and proceeded with his talk.
"Look, I know we've been going out for some time now, and I don't think it's working out."
"Really, you're breaking up with me?" I couldn't stop myself from thinking that this shouldn't be happening. Things were good, at least I thought they were good. There were never any signs that would point to this mess going down (I mean except for the fact that I was his closet girlfriend).
"Mercedes I'm really sorry. Maybe we can be friends."
"Friends? Sam I don't understand we… we were just…just together last night, and you decide to break up with me today? Why not before you spent the night with me? Huh? This is crazy. I must be going crazy. I heard you wrong because Sam I swear-"
"Mercedes I don't want to fight with you, I like you, I do, it's just that it's not fair to you. All this hiding, but I can't, you know."
I knew. What was there not to know. He was new to school and everybody and their rickety old grandmas were trying to get all up in his butt, trying to convince him to be their friend or girlfriend only to bolster their lame status at school while promising him the same thing. That was the reason he wanted to keep this a secret; he didn't want the extra attention and neither did I. Would it have helped my status, I don't know he was new and I was at the bottom. So I went along with it.
"Yeah, I know, but why now? You could have told me when you had your liver lips all over me last night. Or, wait, what about before you stepped one foot into my house. You're full of it. Why? I know you didn't come up with this all by yourself."
"Bambs, I-"
"Don't call me that you old man's wrinkly crotch."
"Why not? I always call you that."
I had to roll my eyes. Usually I just let Sam be…you know…Sam, a little dumb, confused, pretty dense, but that couldn't slide at that moment. He was taking his football cleats and kicking me in the chest. My heart hurt. It did, but no matter how much it was aching to get out I could not allow my hurt to join the party. So, I gave him angry black woman who had no diary so all her pent up anger spilled onto him.
"You wanna know why? Let me tell you why? Because you're stupid, and at this moment I don't know why I never told you before. Sam you are the single dim witted person I have ever met. You are so lost and moronic it's ridiculous. It's almost laughable how clueless you can be. Maybe I'm the idiot for putting up with your ignorance for so long. Sam you're the dumbest piece of crap. You are so pathetic." I spit every word at him like I was delivering a one two punch uppercut combination. I was fuming.
Sam stared at me in shock. He was hurt and I could see it. I reveled in it. The big lipped blonde that stood in front of me deserved everything I had said (at least that's what I felt at the time). He told me once that that was his biggest insecurity. He said he always felt less than everyone else because he wasn't smart. It was the reason he didn't speak a lot, except around me because I didn't make him feel stupid; I made him feel free to be himself.
"Wow, Mercedes I never…I, uh, I'm gonna go. Sorry." He walked past me with his head hanging down and possibly a tear in his eye, but I couldn't have cared any less if he was on fire, skin melting, reaching out for me squealing from pain for my help. I let him walk out, without another glance in his direction. We were over. So I was over him. I didn't need him no matter how much I loved him. We never said it, but I know I felt it and I thought he did too.
A/N: I this seems kind of odd but just hang in there there's more to come and more drama ahead.
Anyway thanks for reading and don't forget to review, and if you haven't checked out my other stories please do so 5 Years Makes It easier? Her Favorite Color was Purple and my oneshot A Pleasant Quandary (shameless plugging I know, sorry)
nakala