It started innocently enough: a simple bet between friends, made while mildly intoxicated, witnessed by two vaguely neutral parties. The stakes weren't even that high — a dollar and bragging rights.
Santana, Brittany, Quinn, and Rachel were all sitting in Santana's living room on a Friday night, sharing a bottle of tequila that Brittany had gotten from her parents' liquor cabinet. At the beginning of the evening, conversation had mostly revolved around school and gossip, but as the tequila flowed it loosened the tongues of all four girls. Quinn felt the effects most of all.
"I'm telling you, I'm really good with girls! They can't resist me!" She was facing the other three, sprawled on Santana's couch with her head upside-down over the front.
"Yeah right, Quinn," said Santana, looking up from nuzzling Brittany's neck. "You have no girls; you have no skills; you have no hope."
Rachel laughed, but quickly sobered when she saw Quinn's glare.
"I'm sure you're very charming, Quinn," she said, fearful of the blonde girl's wrath.
"I'm a good kisser, too!" Quinn was pouting now, arms crossed over her chest and lower lip jutted out.
"Actually," said Brittany, "that part's true. She is a good kisser."
"See?" asked Quinn petulantly.
Santana glared at Quinn and wrapped her arms more securely around Brittany.
"You know, Quinn," Rachel said, "in the relatively short time that we've been friends, I've never heard you mention that you'd been kissing girls." She took a sip of her margarita. "In fact, I'm not convinced that you've ever actually kissed a girl, for all your big talk."
Quinn righted herself on the couch.
"Hey!" she said. "I've kissed three — " she held up two fingers, then four, then dropped her hand completely " — three girls!"
"Brittany doesn't count," Santana said.
"It's true," said Brittany. "I've kissed everyone. I don't count."
"Fine," Quinn said. "Two girls. At cheerleading camps."
Santana laughed. "If it wasn't someone we know, it doesn't count."
"So you've never kissed a girl!" Brittany crowed triumphantly.
Quinn slid off the couch. "I could kiss girls, if I wanted."
Rachel patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Whatever you say, champ."
"I could!" Quinn cried, now flat on the carpet.
Rachel and Brittany exchanged a look.
"Go ahead," said Rachel, scooting closer. "Kiss me. I dare you."
Quinn laughed. "I'm not going to kiss you. Dares are stupid, and I'm not going to kiss you."
"Okay." Rachel shrugged. "It's okay to be scared, Quinn."
"Look," said Quinn, "if I wanted to kiss you, I'd kiss you. And you'd like it."
Santana and Brittany laughed.
Quinn took a long drink of her tequila sunrise. "I'll bet you a dollar that I can kiss you," she said, finally.
Rachel crooked an eyebrow and grinned. "Really?"
"Really. Give me two weeks from tonight. If I haven't done it by then, I lose the bet and owe you a dollar."
"And," interjected Santana, "we get to call you a wimp from now until eternity."
Quinn swallowed nervously. "Is it a deal?"
Rachel nodded. The two girls shook hands, and the bet was on.
A week later, the girls were enjoying another girl's night, this time at Rachel's house. Quinn had come very close to winning the bet on three separate times, but she had chickened out at the crucial moments.
"So, you ready to admit defeat?" Rachel asked, smiling as she sipped her vodka-cranberry.
"Why? You nervous? Scared you might like it?" Quinn, who was sitting next to Rachel on the couch, put her arm around the smaller girl's shoulder and pulled her closer.
"I would like you to know, Quinn, that although I am not in any way averse to kissing women, I don't believe that you have the requisite skills to make kissing you an enjoyable experience."
Quinn frowned. "I'm a good kisser!" She removed her arm from around Rachel's shoulder. "Really!"
Santana laughed. "Whatever gets you through the night, Q."
An hour later, Quinn and Rachel were standing in the kitchen preparing another round of drinks. Quinn, decided that this was, at last, the moment. She put one hand on Rachel's back and leaned in, closing her eyes and preparing herself to meet — thin air. She groaned; Rachel had turned, ready to take the next round into the living room and preventing Quinn from landing her intended kiss.
"Oh, Quinn, was that — I mean did I — were you trying to — "
Quinn nodded. "That should count. I made the effort; it's not my fault that it didn't work.
Rachel laughed. "No, that's so not how that works. But I will stand perfectly still right now if you want to try again!"
Quinn grabbed her drink and stalked out of the room.
Wednesday night should have been the night. Quinn was sitting in Rachel's basement for their twice-weekly Murder, She Wrote sessions. As Rachel sat up after the first episode, ready to give Quinn a backrub, her face was only inches away from Quinn's. Quinn knew that this was the moment, if there was ever going to be a moment at all. In that split second, however, she realized that she couldn't win the bet sober. She didn't want to cross a line with Rachel, and at least if she was drunk she could blame the alcohol if the kiss was bad (or, even worse, if the kiss was good).
"Friday night! Last chance for romance!" Santana greeted Quinn as the three other girls walked into the Fabray house.
"I know," said Quinn. "I'm going to win this yet. I have — " she looked at her cell phone " — almost five hours left."
Rachel laughed and hugged Quinn. "Sure you will, bucko. Let's start drinking, ok? Santana brought rum, and I vote Goombay smashes!"
After an hour and three drinks each, it was time to head to Puck's house. His mom and sister had gone to visit a cousin in Shaker Heights, so he had taken the opportunity to throw a massive party.
As the girls walked, Rachel grabbed Quinn's arm.
"Look, Quinn," she said quietly, trying to keep the other girls from hearing. "You don't have to do this. I'll tell Santana and Brittany that you won the bet, so they won't tease you. It was a stupid idea, and I just don't want you to be uncomfortable, okay?"
"Rach," Quinn said, "I'm going to win this bet. Make sure your lips are well-glossed for the next four hours, 'cause they're going to need it!"
At that moment, Rachel and Quinn were walking past a house under construction. In what was once the front yard sat a portable dumpster and a storage pod. Quinn saw her opportunity and seized it. Pushing Rachel against the storage container, she kissed the shorter girl for all she was worth. Rachel's tongue swiped across Quinn's lower lip and she opened her mouth, deepening the kiss. When lack of oxygen finally became a problem, she broke the kiss and stared at Rachel, open-mouthed.
"I won the bet!" she screamed, running towards Santana and Brittany.