A/N: Yay! Second Glee fic! This was written for my BFF's 18th birthday which was last December (I know. It's really late!), and she got to pick who Rachel went to at the end. So her choice just completely pleased my inner Rachel/Will obsessee. Such a terrible obsession, haha.

BTW, first part is in Rachel's POV, second part is in third person, third part is in Will's POV.

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It was a Friday. Just any other normal Friday, with kids looking at the clock every twenty seconds for the bell to ring, and the smell of clean, non-school air was waiting for us outside those doors. It was a particularly gloomy day, cloudy and rain threatening to fall, which seemed to make time move even more slowly. Usually, this doesn't bother me. I don't mind being at school. I like getting an education, and I like it even more now that I have friends. Well...fellow glee club members. I don't even know if half of them really like me.

Obviously, Finn likes me. We dated, we still hang out sometimes. Puck likes me, but I think it's for the very reason of being able to graze my thighs with his fingers when he's walking next to me. Kurt only likes me because of our shared love for Liza Minnelli and other beautiful, gorgeous, fantastical, crazily talented Broadway stars.

So technically, Finn is my only real friend. The fact that we're now exes probably makes it a little harder, especially since I knew he still loved Quinn. It was this whole crazy love trapezoid: Rachel loves Finn, Finn loves Quinn, Quinn loves Puck, and Puck wants Rachel's body. It went around in this circle (love circle?) for ever and ever, and finally I broke it. I broke things off with Finn, and things went back to normal. Sort of.

Back to that Friday. Finally, the bell rang and I ran to my locker to grab my belongings. Before I could even turn the lock, Jesse appeared next to me. I knew, I absolutely knew that he wasn't good for me. But he was nice to me most of the time, and he could sing just about as good as I could.

"Hey, Rach," he said to me, pressing my hand in between his.

"Hello," I said in a clipped voice.

"Something the matter?" He moved his hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear.

"No," I said, shrugging my shoulders, "I just want to go home. Mr. Schuester gave us a new song to work on and I want to get it down by our next practice."

"But that's not until Monday," he stated.

"Yes, I know," I said, pressing my lips against his cheek, "Can you give me a ride?"

"Can do," he said, throwing his arm around my shoulder and walking me out to the parking lot.

The ride home was rather quiet. He put on some Mozart, much to my surprise, and explained to me that it helped him clear his head. Then, he asked me, "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Like, going out?"

He nodded.

"Oh, no. My dads are on a trip to New York. I'm supposed to stay home."

"That's a bummer," he said, in a grave voice.

"Why?"

"Well, I was going to hang out with my friends back from Carmel. I was going to ask you to come, and then I could show you off." He smirked. Nothing good ever comes from smirking boys.

I smiled. "You were?"

He nodded again, and proceeded, "Now I don't have anything to do tonight..."

And that's where I gave in. I shouldn't have.

–

The only thing she could remember was the rain. It was hitting her windows at an even tempo, and for some strange reason, the pain of it all seemed to blur. It was over soon enough, and when she asked Jesse to leave, he complied.

She felt like such a stupid girl. What was she thinking? Here she was, waiting for Finn to finally realize that he really does belong with her, and that she could give herself to him. She grew tired of waiting. She was ready, she had decided.

She was ready.

So when Jesse showed up in her life, what could be so bad about sleeping with him? Other than the fact that she felt like she would betraying her fellow glee club members, they were so good together and she couldn't understand why no one understood where she was coming from. Mr. Schuester willingly let in members of the Cheerios and look what nearly happened to sectionals?

This wouldn't be all that bad.

Except for the overwhelming urge to explain to someone what had transpired.

-

It was a very slow Friday evening. There was no glee rehearsal after school on Fridays, because I enjoy my weekends just as much as the kids do. Well, I suppose I liked them when I had a wife to come home to. Now it's just lonely and too, too quiet. I kept myself occupied with whatever was on HBO at the time.

Emma and I were taking a break. She was getting counseling. She was happy about the counseling, and that made me immensely happy. It nearly covered the guilt factor of me nearly sleeping with Shelby Corcoran. I was so close. But I pulled myself back because my god damn conscience was nagging at me in the back of my head.

My train of thought was lost when there was a knock on my door. Just two knocks. Emma always knocked three times, my parents always knocked in some strange rhythm, and Terri...well, Terri just usually waltzed right in. I was racking my brain to figure out who this two-knocker person was. I was thoroughly surprised when I opened my door, and there stood Rachel Berry.

A completely soaking wet Rachel Berry, to boot.

"Mr. Schue? Can I come in?" She asked, sniffling.

After I shook myself out of thought, I complied with a "yeah, yeah, come on in."

She began to slip off her yellow flats and peel off her wet knee-highs, and damn. This was not good. At all. Period.

"Do you want some dry clothes?" I asked, trying to find a way to distract myself from Rachel freaking Berry stripping off her completely soaked knee-highs from those perfectly sculpted legs.

She looked up and smiled. A very small smile. "Yeah. Thanks."

I ran to my closet. I stood there for a while. I couldn't decide which one was more inappropriate: giving this teenage girl my ex-wife's clothes that she still hadn't picked up, or giving this teenage girl my clothes. I figured Terri would have a fit if she found out, so I grabbed an old t-shirt of mine and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

I still had no idea why she was here. Or even why she walked here in the pouring rain.

As I handed her the clothes and directed her towards the guest bathroom, I leaned against the door after she had shut it.

"Rachel?" There was a rustle of clothing.

"Yes, Mr. Schue?" It was a timid response.

"Why are you here?"

It was a while before she responded. "I just...I don't know, I just needed to be somewhere."

"Somewhere other than home?"

"Yes." It was a noncommittal answer.

"Is there something wrong at home, Rach?"

Another long pause, and she swung the door open, causing me to fall backwards against her. I caught myself before I could fall completely on top of her.

"Sorry," I said, turning around to face her.

"My family life is perfectly fine, Mr. Schue."

Why do these conversations end up turning into a game of 20 Questions?

"Okay," I said, walking out to the living room, "What about boys? Is it Puck or Finn?"

She shook her head, and sat down on one end of the couch. I sat on the other end.

Before I could ask another question, she finally piped up. "Mr. Schue," she began, the usual vivacity in her voice gone, "have you ever had...er, intimate relations with a person you know you shouldn't have?"

Rachel Berry and I had the same problem. Funny how that happens.

"Yes," I said, giving her a smile of reassurance. "Once. Recently."

She scooted closer to me, the middle cushion of the couch. She looked up at me, looking ridiculous in my t-shirt that was about six sizes too large for her. "I thought no one would understand. So maybe you will. Can I confide in you?"

I really wish I had said no. Because then she delved into this hour-long story of her forbidden love, and how she thought she was ready for sex (why on earth was she telling me this?), and how this boy was the male lead in Vocal Adrenaline.

We have more in common than I thought.

She had finished (her hair was nearly dry by this point), and politely asked for my tale. And I told her flat-out that I nearly slept with Shelby Corcoran. I could practically see the tears about to fall from her eyes.

"How could you?" She asked, in an overly-dramatized voice.

"I'm in a really rough patch, Rach. You wouldn't understand."

Apparently I was wrong. "You don't think my whole life has been a rough patch?" She nearly yelled, "Do you even realize what I go through on a daily basis? Name-calling, slushie facials, Finn and Puck being such douchebags that I can't even think straight, and I just--"

I had to stop her. Girl problems are not my forte. So I leaned forward, cupped her cheek in my hand, and kissed her. I kissed Rachel Berry. And to my surprise, she kissed back. She curled her arms around my neck, and moved to straddle my lap. My tongue grazed her lips, begging for them to open, and then our tongues were pressed together with such need. She began to roll her hips against the bulge growing against my jeans, and I moaned into her mouth.

When her hands started to drift down to the edge of my jeans, I reached down and grabbed her hands as fast as I could. "Rachel, no," I said, breaking our mouths apart.

She sat there, on my lap, and brought her eyes up to me. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Schuester," she whispered, clambering off of me. She ran back to the bathroom, and I heard the click of the lock.

I had finally gotten her out of there at least half an hour later, and led her towards my bedroom. "You can sleep in here," I said, pulling back the covers, "I'll go take the couch."

When I had finally settled on my rock-hard couch, and when I had finally started to doze off, the sounds of quiet sobs issued from the bedroom. I could tell she was holding back. After a while, I couldn't help myself. I crawled into bed next to her, let her head rest under mine, and our legs became entwined.

We both had similar problems. We both felt terrible about what we had done, before and after Rachel appeared at my apartment door. We both wanted to make each other feel better, and we knew we couldn't.

That was the hardest part.

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A/N: Please review! They make me happy!
-Bailey Shea