(no subject)
Life was, for the most part, pretty good. Yes, he'd had his heart broken and torn into a thousand pieces (and he was NOT dramatic about love, no) but otherwise, things were good. He had an awesomely hot girlfriend (even if he wasn't entirely liking her right now because of her musical choices) and most importantly? They were through to Nationals!
Celebration party, with Mr Schue was on. Sam was going to arrive on his own but he was cool with that; Santana wanted to hang out with Britt before and he had no problems with it. He was just kinda jealous still that they were such good friends.
A smart pair of jeans, equally smart shirt and his hair done up nicely, Sam was ready and raring to go. He even had a grocery bag with snacks - including doritos - to take to the party with him. He felt like it wasn't the place to turn up empty handed. It was, after all, party down time!
Or so he thought.
Blinking furiously as he stepped through the door to Mr Schue's place (where they were all meeting and possibly spending the entire evening till late), Sam muttered to himself quietly. Not this. Not again. This could not be real. Except, the light breeze on his face felt terribly real and the weight of the bag still in his hands was certainly not a figment of the imagination.
Celebration party, with Mr Schue was on. Sam was going to arrive on his own but he was cool with that; Santana wanted to hang out with Britt before and he had no problems with it. He was just kinda jealous still that they were such good friends.
A smart pair of jeans, equally smart shirt and his hair done up nicely, Sam was ready and raring to go. He even had a grocery bag with snacks - including doritos - to take to the party with him. He felt like it wasn't the place to turn up empty handed. It was, after all, party down time!
Or so he thought.
Blinking furiously as he stepped through the door to Mr Schue's place (where they were all meeting and possibly spending the entire evening till late), Sam muttered to himself quietly. Not this. Not again. This could not be real. Except, the light breeze on his face felt terribly real and the weight of the bag still in his hands was certainly not a figment of the imagination.