Author's Note: This is my first time writing fic, so bear with me. Not sure where this is going but I hope you stick around to find out. :j
The back patio was swimming with paper lanterns and raucous laughter. A sweet tinge of alcohol carried on the evening breeze as it tousled her hair.
She's nervous. Like the kind of nervous you feel on picture day when you're fourth in line and the kid who promised to take good care of your compact mirror has gone M.I.A. But that's what cranberry cocktails were made for, right?
The nearing-empty glass is drawn to her lips once again as hazel eyes scan the crowd with a feigned disinterest. After a few sweeps, she resigns herself to accepting the fact that she probably won't even so much as get a glimpse of Jodi Foster. Or anyone else worth mentioning, for that matter.
As the moments pass, she becomes increasingly aware of how out-of-place she feels and starts to wonder why she thought coming stag was such a brilliant idea. The upperclassmen who invited her were nice enough; maybe she should've accepted their offer to carpool.
No—no, upon second consideration, this was better. No obligations to force smiles and make small talk. No hassle of coordinating a meet-up for the ride back.
No strings attached. That was the new precept for Quinn Fabray.
Her senses feel weird, softer at the edges. It's different from the wine coolers with Puck or beers over summer, but the way she feels is strangely reminiscent of that lame-ass Glee party at Rach— Of that.. of that lame-ass Glee party.
She was so angry that night. God, why had she been so upset? Bits and pieces of the answer come back to her with every stir of her ice and straw, her teeth grinding in response as she finds herself wishing she could focus on anything else.
For example, the beautiful brunette approaching the lawn furniture she was now sinking into. The girl—no, the young woman had a walk about her that seemed.. determined. As if she put purpose in her movement. If Quinn was being honest, it was actually kind of sexy. Perhaps equally alluring was the smile spreading across her face as she neared.
"Hi, I'm Laura! I figured I would come over here and introduce myself, being that I'm embarrassingly alone at this shindig, too."
Quinn's eyebrows quirk. She tries to portray offendedness, but amusement creeps onto her lips as she asks, "And what makes you think I'm as embarrassingly alone as you are?"
"Well, you've been nursing that cocktail glass there two or three times over and, no offense, but you couldn't be any more T.S. Elliot if you tried."
Something about her word choice and demeanor has Quinn swallowing back a pang in her throat, but she shakes it off in favor of staying in the moment. "Is that so?"
"Oh, yeah." Her response is immediate, but the silence that hangs momentarily afterward feels almost playful.
"While I can appreciate the compliment, I much prefer 'Quinn'."
"Quinn," She seems hesitant, like she's testing it out on her lips. "Well, if we're going to do this whole 'two-loners-who-ironically-socialize' thing, what do you say I get us another round?"