A/N: 2024 update of the original 2011 story

Chapter 6: It Just Sounds Right

As her phone played one of her favorite songs, Mercedes smiled to herself, feeling the warm, easy energy of the weekend. The already beautiful campus seemed even more inviting under the relaxed atmosphere. No one was in a rush—students were either out for a jog, hanging out at the café, studying on the lawn, or still in their rooms, sleeping in. As predicted, Mercedes' favorite pastime had become relaxing on one of the benches, novel in hand. Whether reading for class or for fun, the simple act of sitting by the trees made everything more enjoyable. It was her escape, a much-needed reprieve from the pressures of college life.

She was struggling to keep up with the endless stream of papers and projects for her midterms. And that math class—why on earth did she need it? College requirements be damned. Even her favorite class, music theory, wasn't letting up. She was doing well, sure, but she desperately needed a moment to breathe.

And then there was this other problem.

Ever since that unsettling message she ignored after her chat with Kurt that night, similar messages had been flooding in. Her phone had been buzzing with texts from an unknown number—though she had a pretty good guess who it was. The messages were coming more frequently now, several times a day. She ignored every single one, not even bothering to glance at what they said. Mercedes was seriously considering changing her phone number and chat ID.

Dammit, just leave me alone...

Despite the persistent annoyance, she refused to let it dampen her spirits. She told herself to take it with a grain of salt. The past was the past. She had learned her lessons, and everything else had been left behind.

As she sat down on her favorite bench by the east campus fountain and propped her feet up, Mercedes pushed all her worries aside. At this moment, she didn't care about her papers, her tests, her homework, or those messages. She was in 19th-century England with Elinor and Marianne from "Sense and Sensibility." Quinn had raved about Jane Austen's novels during their weekly chats, so Mercedes finally picked one up. To her surprise, she was hooked. She had already devoured "Pride and Prejudice," "Mansfield Park," "Persuasion," and "Emma," and now she was eager to dive into a new story.

Mercedes took out her earbuds, letting the natural sounds of campus—the rustling wind, the distant chatter, and the chirping of birds—accompany her as she read. She hummed to herself, absentmindedly flicking the corners of the pages, and chuckled at the witty humor. As the plot began to thicken, she leaned in closer, nearly burying herself in the book. She was so absorbed that she barely noticed anything around her… almost.

"I never took you for a British literature kind of girl."

Mercedes nearly jumped, dropping her book as she looked up to see Sam sitting on the other end of the bench, by her feet. He was dressed in his football jersey and jeans, looking every bit the athlete, yet somehow as if he had stepped out of a sports magazine.

But Mercedes didn't dwell on that as she put down her book and crossed her arms, smirking. "And I didn't originally take you for a comic book kind of boy. Where did that argument get me?"

Sam threw his head back in laughter. "Hopefully, that's the only game I lose today..." He clicked his tongue.

Since their first real conversation at Richter, they had fallen back into a comfortable rhythm. They could strike up a conversation whenever they encountered each other—usually at the café, sometimes when Mercedes was reading outside, or if they happened to be walking in the same direction. Their exchanges were mostly casual—"How was your day?" "I hate writing papers," "I talked to Stacey and Stevie"—simple things. But Mercedes couldn't help feeling a little glad that Sam took the time to talk to her. He gave her his undivided attention, just like he used to when they were dating.

She didn't take it too seriously, though. Sam was a popular guy, and it seemed like everyone wanted to talk to him. She often saw him surrounded by girls, laughing at something he said or flipping their hair in that "sexy" way. Mercedes couldn't help but internally roll her eyes. Sam was still Sam, the good-looking, popular jock. He could easily slip back into his old habits of dating cheerleaders and the like. What he did was no longer her business.

Still, that thought triggered her curiosity. "So, are you still a comic book kind of boy?" she asked, tilting her head.

Sam grinned, looking down at his outstretched legs. "Yeah... I am. Lately, I've been so busy with football and school that I don't get much time to read, but once in a while, I'll open up a new copy that my dad sends me." He sighed. "Not that many people know about it. I think my football buddies would be on my case if they knew about my inner geek."

Mercedes smiled, chuckling softly. "It's nothing to be ashamed about, Sammy..."

Sam half-shrugged. "It's not that I really care anymore. I guess I just never bring it up. Other than keeping out of trouble in front of football media, I don't really care much about my reputation."

Mercedes couldn't help but smile. This was the Sammy she had grown to admire years ago. When she first met him, he was just another pretty boy, fighting his way to popularity. She only saw that side of him until the glee club put him under fire over a stupid rumor. Popularity and girl trouble were no longer his concern. His family came first, and in protecting their dignity, he sacrificed his own.

Mercedes felt a pang of guilt. She had no justification for criticizing him like she did back then. Honestly, it had been out of her own jealousy. She thought that yet another person was going to take her best friend away from her. She was selfish and judgmental, things she told herself she wouldn't be. She couldn't live with her guilt...

So, she went to apologize to him personally. She got his address from Kurt and drove herself to his motel the following afternoon. She apologized wholeheartedly, and he accepted. After that exchange, she met Stacey and Stevie and immediately fell in love with them. To make further amends, she took the three of them out for ice cream. Although she hadn't really talked to Sam before, it was amazing how easily they fell into conversation. It just felt natural.

"No way! As much as I love comics in general, Marvel rules them all! There's no contest!" Sam had run a hand through his longish blonde hair as he and Mercedes walked around the playground, watching Stacey and Stevie run around.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Really, Sam? Come on! DC Comics all the way! Superman? Wonder Woman? Captain America? BATMAN? They're superhero legends!"

"Yeah, but the X-Men? The Avengers? Spiderman? Fantastic Four? They're nothing to shake a stick at," Sam had replied matter-of-factly.

Mercedes had pursed her lips in typical diva-fashion. "Yeah, but Superman can smash a stick over Hulk's head."

Sam had stopped, giving her a dark glare. "Seriously? You're gonna start talking like that now?"

After a long pause and an intense staring contest, a lopsided grin had spread across his face. Mercedes couldn't help but smile back. Suddenly, they had both started laughing.

Sam had waved his arms in surrender. "Forget it. We'll get nowhere with this. I'll just talk about the fact that you actually know a thing or two about comics. Miss Mercedes, I'm shocked."

With a flip of her hair, Mercedes had started walking again. "Yeah, well, just because I have a diva-tude doesn't mean I can't like geeky stuff. Just like you, Mr. Popular."

Sam had smiled, shaking his head. "Yeah, if I learned anything from my shitty fall downhill, it's that popularity isn't everything. What did it get me? I looked cool? A lot of people knew my name? None of that helped me when my family lost our house. It didn't give me a girl who really cared about me. It's useless. I shouldn't care what other people think. I should just be myself." His voice had grown quieter, and he had shoved his hands in his pockets.

Mercedes had reached out to pat his bicep. "Exactly. You're Sam Evans. The loser Marvel Boy."

Sam had smirked. "You're not getting away with that epic fail DC girl..." And with that, Mercedes had started running, with Sam chasing her in mock outrage. That day, a new friendship was formed—one that would lead to something more.

Now, as the matured young man of the present leaned back, throwing an arm over the back of the bench, Sam took a deep breath. "I understand why you like reading out here. It's really nice."

Mercedes nodded as they sat there in comfortable silence. Ever since they had formed their friendship, it had been like this. Everything they did together felt natural—no pressure, nothing awkward. Their transition from acquaintances to friends had been effortless… and their transition from friends to something more had felt just as easy.

She let out a small sigh, taking the moment for what it was… just two friends enjoying the fall wind.

Until it was interrupted by a screech.

"SAMMY!"

Sam flinched, sitting up with an irritated look on his face. They turned to see some of his football friends and a brunette in a cheerleading outfit. Mercedes often saw her hanging around Sam… his girlfriend, perhaps? He never mentioned it, but he never denied the existence of one either.

"SAMMY! LET'S GO! IT'S GAME TIME!" she bounced, her voice grating on Mercedes' nerves.

"Go ahead, I'll be right there!" Sam called back. The group began making their way to the stadium locker rooms, but Sam leaned back for a moment longer. "I kind of don't want to go…" he mumbled, almost to himself.

Mercedes smiled. "Come on. Go and win it. For all of us."

Sam stood up, walked to her end of the bench, and crouched down so that his eyes were level with hers. He was so close that it felt like his body was shielding her from the fall breeze. She could feel the warmth radiating from him. "So… you gonna come cheer me on?" he asked in a low voice.

Mercedes lifted the corner of her lips. "I don't know… I'm not much of a rah-rah school spirit kind of girl."

"Oh, come on, Cedes! For me?" Sam lowered his head, looking up at her with those bright green eyes, his pout almost too much to resist.

Oh no. It's over. Sam knew he had won. There were so many things he managed to convince Mercedes to do with that signature look. That boy was smart. "Fine, I'll be there."

Sam broke into a big smile, and Mercedes felt that familiar clenching in her chest. "Great! I'll be looking out for you!"

"In that big stadium?"

"Yeah, no way I could miss you," Sam laughed.

Mercedes lifted an eyebrow. "Should I take that as an insult or…"

He shook his head. "Far from it." He leaned in for a short hug, and the smell of him nearly distracted her from responding.

"Okay, Sammy, good luck." She smiled warmly as he stood up and walked in the direction of his friends.

Far from it, huh?

Before Mercedes could wonder more about it, another person plopped down on the bench where Sam had been sitting. Noelle.

"So… I've been doing some thinking," Noelle began, fluffing her long Boho shirt.

Mercedes snorted, lifting her book back up to her face. "Amazing."

Noelle leaned over and snatched the book away. "No, you're listening to me, okay?"

"Okay, shoot, 'Elle."

Pushing her glasses up her nose, Noelle continued, "So… I noticed you and the quarterback seem to talk to each other a lot."

"So?" Mercedes leaned back against the armrest. "We're friends."

"Uh-huh. Right, you told me you two were in Glee together in high school."

"Yup."

"I also remember you told me a while ago that you have a thing for dating football players," Noelle said, twirling a piece of her short hair around her finger.

Mercedes scoffed. "I did not say I had a thing for football players!"

"Well, not exactly, but you did tell me your three high school boyfriends were all football players."

Wow, three boyfriends. She hadn't thought of it that way. She always remembered being the single girl in Glee. "Yeah…"

"You told me about these three boys." Noelle held up her index finger. "The first one wasn't really a boyfriend. More like an asshole who just wanted you for your popularity because you were a cheerleader at the time." She held up two fingers. "The second was actually a boyfriend. You had a short little relationship until he moved away." She held up a third finger. "Then there was the boy who made some pretty big plans with you, but it scared you away… among other things."

Mercedes silently nodded along. Noelle was definitely a listener with a hell of a memory. Although she seemed like an airhead at times, she had a good head on her shoulders. "And your point is…"

Noelle smirked. "Which one is he?" She nodded her head toward the stadium.

Oh yeah, she was a smart one. Mercedes just stared at her for a moment, thinking about what she should say. Judging from the intent look in Noelle's eyes, she might as well make a decision.

Mercedes lowered her head and mumbled, "He was the second one."

"I knew it!" Noelle broke into a huge grin. "So, he was like the best one out of the bunch."

Mercedes was about to object, but then she realized… Noelle was right. Puck didn't even really count. Shane was too controlling. And… well, Sam really was the best of them. He treated her so well. He was a best friend as well as a boyfriend. In their short relationship, she hadn't found a flaw.

But they probably broke up before she could find one.

"So you caught me. He's an ex. Good job, Sherlock," Mercedes said offhandedly.

"Yeah, an ex that doesn't seem like he'll be an ex for long," Noelle smirked.

Mercedes shook her head vigorously. "Where did you get that from?"

"Before I got here, I could see two people on this bench talking. I could see him. He didn't look like he was just there to talk to a friend."

"Um, he was just talking to a friend. That's it," Mercedes snapped, closing her book.

"A guy doesn't get front of a girl, leaning in, with that look on his face, just to talk to any random girl." Noelle crossed her arms.

Mercedes recalled the moment that had passed not too long ago. It did seem a little more intimate than any normal conversation between friends. But that might just be how he was—a nice, warm, welcoming type of guy. It didn't necessarily mean anything more. Thinking about this was getting a little too uncomfortable for Mercedes.

She stood up, stuffing her book into her satchel, and started walking toward her dorm. Noelle raced after her. "Hey, where are you going?"

"Back to our room. I need to change—I'm going to the game."

Noelle chuckled. "I thought you weren't much of a sports fan."

"I'm not. I promised… I promised Sam I'd go."

"Aaah! Got it. Okay, we'll go! Rashad said he was getting some good seats up front anyway." She started pulling Mercedes along. "Come on! Let's get prettified!"

"Prettified?" Mercedes repeated incredulously.

"Yeah, gotta look good for your quarterback. He'll be looking for you in the crowd!" Noelle nearly bounced as she walked.

"'Elle! It's a football game! I'm not dressing up for it, and he WILL NOT be looking for me!"

Well, that was a bold-faced lie, but she didn't want to admit it.

Later the next week, Mercedes found herself at the café again, this time with her head buried in her notes. She was muttering to herself, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. For a second, she would stop, groan in frustration, peek at her notes, and then close her eyes again, continuing her little chant. Memorization—her next Anthropology exam was all about memorization. This was how she studied for these kinds of tests, and she didn't care that she was in the middle of the café looking all sorts of crazy. This was how she was going to ace that exam.

But her chants were interrupted by the loud squeak of a chair scraping the floor. She opened her eyes at the sound. Sam had collapsed into the chair across from her, his face buried in his arms on the table. He made no move to get up. Mercedes put down her notes and leaned forward.

"Sammy… you okay?"

Sam remained motionless for a moment before replying, "Yeah, but not really," his muffled voice coming from his arms.

"What do you mean?" Mercedes tilted her head.

Sam finally sat up, his hair slightly mussed, his face clearly exasperated.

"I talked to my advisor."

Mercedes immediately understood the implications. Usually, you met with your advisor to discuss classes for the next semester or your future plans. The only reason someone would be stressed after such a meeting was if they had failed a class. "Did you fail a class?" she asked cautiously.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "No, I'm doing fine."

"Then… what's going on?"

He looked around the café before scooting his chair closer to her side. He began speaking in a low voice. "I went there to talk about my career plans. He just gave me the automatic conclusion that everyone gets… NFL. No brainer, right? Well, did I tell him that? No."

Mercedes nodded, listening intently. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.

Sam looked around again before leaning in closer, their elbows nearly touching on the table. "Yeah, I like football. Sure, I'm not bad at it, but does that mean I want to make a career out of it? …Not really." He let out a sigh, running his hand over his face. "At first, when I came to Richter, I was pretty sure that's what I was going to do. But now I really like my creative writing class, and my professor says I'm awesome at it. Over the summer, I wrote a couple of drafts of a sci-fi story I came up with. My professor wants me to take it to a publisher. And I'm really excited about it, like REALLY excited. But then I talked to my advisor about it, and he laughed at me. He said I'd pass up earning millions of dollars to write novels that probably won't get anywhere past the grocery store book section. And, I'll be honest, that scares the hell out of me… not making a living. But at the same time, I think about publishing a book… and it's exciting. I never thought I could write my high school book report, much less this. I can't see how going around to cities, throwing a football until I'm 30-something, then retiring, is fulfilling. But that's what everyone expects me to do. Everyone's so proud of me and is pushing me in that direction. I know I shouldn't let them get to me… but I just… right now I can't decide. The future scares me."

Mercedes listened patiently as he rambled, nodding along. After a moment of Sam collecting himself, she spoke up softly. "Yeah, I understand. The future is scary… but you know, you sound really promising. You have so much potential to work with. If writing is what you want to do, then go for it. Ignore what anyone else thinks, because you can't live your life regretting that you didn't pursue your dreams. The only thing holding you back is yourself. Go for it."

As they sat there talking, Mercedes could feel the shift in the dynamic between them. They were reestablishing that connection they once had—not in a romantic way, but as each other's support system. Back in high school, they had helped each other through some tough emotional times. Sam was asking for her help now, and she obliged because she knew he would do the same for her. He was someone she could be completely honest with, who wouldn't judge her and would help her in any way he could. No strings attached—they put their trust in each other.

Sam rubbed his temples. "I know… it's just… it's all confusing. After every win, I'm pulled into this whirlwind of football media talking about my 'potential,' what to expect in the NFL… they've all already started placing bets on my future. I know I shouldn't listen, but it's like a constant buzzing in my ear, sometimes it's just really loud, and I can't shake it! I can't—"

"SAMMY!" A familiar screech interrupted him. The brunette from earlier walked up to their table.

Sam groaned, snapping in her direction. "Don't call me Sammy!" he nearly yelled. A few people looked over at them, and Mercedes nearly flinched back. The girl looked absolutely horrified. "I'm sick of you calling me that, Megan! You're not allowed to call me Sammy!" His stress was clearly getting to him. Sam was usually so easy-going. The only time Mercedes had seen him rage like this was when most of the Glee club started criticizing him over that rumor.

The girl shrank back. "I was just going to ask if you wanted to go out with us tonight."

Sam shook his head, a trace of a snarl on his face. "No. No to tonight, no to Cancun. Just NO. I apologize in advance—I have a killer headache, and I don't want to deal with it. I suggest you just go away."

Mercedes watched as the girl practically ran out of the café, doing her best not to laugh because it was clear Sam wasn't in the mood. "Wow… where did that come from?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Sam half-shrugged, a hint of a smile on his face. "I don't know… might have come from the girl sitting next to me."

Mercedes chuckled. "That did sound like some diva-tude, huh?"

"I've always wanted her off my case. She's been on it ever since Chad set me up on a date with her." He put a hand over his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sammy… Oh wait, you don't like that name. Why didn't you tell me before? I've been calling you that for the longest time." In her shock over his outburst, she hadn't realized her mistake.

Sam dropped his hand, revealing wide eyes. "Oh." He didn't seem to realize it himself. "No, you can still call me Sammy."

Her eyebrows creased. "But you just said…"

He nodded in the direction of Megan's exit. "She can't call me that. No one else can. There are only a handful of people who can call me Sammy, and I can tolerate it. First is my family, next is you."

Mercedes suddenly felt her heart quicken. "Why?"

Sam looked straight at her, honesty shining in his eyes. "Because it just sounds right… when you say it."