Each time Quinn thought Rachel wasn't paying attention, Rachel would catch the slight movement of Quinn's eyes toward her. When Rachel was adamantly taking notes, erasing, and revising them, Quinn would watch her; the hazel eyes seemed to be asking a question that had no words. Rachel knew she should have wondered more about Quinn's motivation, but in those very few precious moments she would feel her skin spark and her neck grow hot because Quinn Fabray looked at her when she thought Rachel wouldn't see. Quinn Fabray looked at her in secret, the way boys would look at Quinn in secret.
The only part Rachel didn't like is that she didn't know why. Sometimes she would try to "catch" Quinn in the act, daringly glance up once or twice from beneath her bangs or shift her knee just that much closer to Quinn's thigh, but each time she'd find Quinn had already assumed the position of an innocently distracted teenager.
Sometimes she compiled a frustrated list in her head. Or on scraps of paper.
Reasons Why
1. She really hates me and she's plotting my death.
2. She's copying my notes.
3. It's been three years of turmoil and irritation.
4. She just happens to be spacing off and looking in my direction when she does so.
None of the answers even remotely felt right. There was something more to the way Quinn's hand stopped flowing across her paper the moment her eyes flitted Rachel's way; something about how Quinn would noticeably shift whenever Rachel would attempt to claim just a little more space. And she had noticed whenever Quinn was being scolded or had been caught in a lie, she cleared her throat even if she didn't have any words to say.
Like clockwork:
Rachel feigned total distraction.
Quinn's pen stopped moving. Hazel eyes drifting upward toward Rachel.
Rachel tried to catch Quinn's eyes with her own.
Quinn innocently glances behind Rachel at their pacing teacher.
They only had Biology together. Just one class, every day, and on some days Glee. Rachel could remember the first day she realized Quinn had a class with her, mostly because she'd almost fallen out of her seat when Quinn sat down next to her. As if she thought Quinn was confused or lost, she nervously fluttered with her papers and waited for the cheerleader to realize her mistake.
Apparently it was no mistake. Rachel came in late the next day and there Quinn was, in the seat that would be beside her own.
Quinn didn't acknowledge her, save the few interactions in Glee. Yet, day after day, it became the blonde's habit to watch Rachel silently, stealing glances like lines of poetry.
Rachel was just being whimsical. She was making something out of nothing.
She'd written the list out on paper and forgotten about it amidst her curious musings. Her mistake, because the next thing she knew Quinn was clearing her throat and glaring ahead of her. Clearly angry.
"I'm so … I'm sorry," Rachel whispered in a panic, thinking that Quinn angry at her was not what she wanted, especially since she hadn't felt the sting of a slushie in her face for some time.
Quinn said nothing, only glanced forward.
Rachel felt shame wash over her, and when the class bell rang, she gathered her purse and notebook and left the room as quick as she possibly could. She was flushed red with embarrassment, a little upset with herself, and possibly a little sad. She hadn't wanted to offend Quinn by writing a list of reasons why she'd even look at Rachel. It would look at the very least like a catty thing intended to say, "Quit looking at me." It was only a list, but all the same Rachel felt a very specific kind of madness when Quinn watched her in those few precious seconds.
Rachel needed reasons why.
The next day, she almost caught Quinn in the act but failed. The trade-off was that she got to touch Quinn's hand. She dropped her pen when she shifted toward Quinn, and as she leaned down she used Quinn's knee and hand as leverage; the chairs were very tall, after all.
Her heart raced in a rather confused way, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen Quinn's face grow a subtle shade of pink and felt Quinn's hand shift as if to accept the contact.
Rachel fell asleep later that night thinking about the warmth of Quinn's skin beneath her palm, or what she would have done if Quinn had turned her hand over and held on to Rachel's hand for a second too long.
She wasn't sure how long, but it had been long enough spent in muddled confusion at why. The next day, Rachel brought the silent push and pull to an end.
Why did you choose to sit next to me when you could have sat near any one else?
Why do you look at me when you think I'm not aware of it?
Why does this bother me so much?
She glanced at her enemy, who had given up the pretense of not looking and was blatantly eyeing the paper with a mixture of what appeared to be hesitation and fear. Rachel waited, her brown eyes lingering warmly on the sight of Quinn's skin and the way her hair was in a confused state over the shell of Quinn's ear. She thought about those beautiful, slender fingers and what it would feel like to have them trail along her jaw gently. Rachel shivered; her thighs shivered at the thought as well.
Quinn didn't give her any answers that day, but Rachel knew she had preemptively pushed Quinn into explaining a few things, sooner rather than later.
So Rachel waited. Each day, she found herself glancing Quinn's way, and sometimes she thought she saw the nervous flicker of hazel eyes through a curtain of blonde hair.
Two days later, when Rachel was at her locker, Quinn slapped an envelope atop Rachel's books and bee-lined to the nearest exit. No words, only a list.
Reasons Why
1. It didn't occur to me I should want to sit somewhere else.
2. I should have been more careful about looking.
3. It's been 3 years of high school.
4. Sitting next to you is the easiest way to be honest.
Reading the handwriting, Rachel stared at it for a few minutes. She noted a few things: Quinn had remembered the exact format of Rachel's list, she didn't seem to write like someone would if they hated you, and she didn't deny looking. She affirmed it.
The last point was what most confused and excited Rachel. "Sitting next to you is the easiest way to be honest." Honest about what?She folded the note carefully as one would a treasured thing, put it back in its envelope, and placed it in between the cover of her song-book. Rachel looked for Quinn, but as always the girl was gone quicker than a shadow. Answers cryptic and avoidant, one would think Quinn had something to hide. Very possibly she was hiding something from Rachel.
She found a second envelope fallen in her locker, obviously slipped through the cracks the next day. It was a single scrap of paper inside.
I think about you too much.
Quinn's handwriting. Rachel looked for the girl but didn't see her anywhere nearby. Later, in Biology, they barely acknowledged each other.
Rachel followed Quinn after class, caught her in an empty hallway and pushed her into the auditorium. It was empty, thank Barbra, but it occurred to Rachel that she didn't know what she even needed to say to Quinn. They stared at each other, both surprised and hesitant and scared to say what would come next.
So Rachel spoke, quiet, and found she couldn't take the intensity of Quinn's questioning eyes. "I do, too."
Quinn had never looked so scared in her life.
"We're supposed to hate each other."
Quinn was still silent.
"I can't do this."
Nothing.
Rachel went to leave, and when Quinn didn't move after her, she turned back to her. "You're supposed to stop me. Say something. Explain something. Say anything."
Quinn took one step, two, slow steps that spoke of fear. A hand touched Rachel's and fingers grazed the intersection between their palms. Rachel didn't know if her hand was shaking or if Quinn's was. Fingertips teetering against Quinn's palm, a deer caught in the headlights, Rachel's eyes flashed total surprise when she felt warm, soft, vanilla-flavored lips against her own. Lingering, coaxing, a wordless plea from Quinn to Rachel.
Rachel's chest burned; her body ached. She felt her fingertips slip from Quinn's and fabric was grasped out of surprise. Quinn Fabray was kissing her, had in a few single steps made the leap that claimed Rachel totally and completely because she'd only been waiting for a reason why the hell Quinn Fabray mattered.
Rachel found her hips caving in toward's Quinn's, gasped at the contact of their stomachs and felt Quinn's heart race in reaction to Rachel's arms trailing her shoulders and finally wrapping around her neck. Rachel's torso crushed voluntarily against Quinn's, she soaked in the sense of power she felt when she bit Quinn's lip and heard the blonde gasp-whimper.
"I've been wanting to kiss you for so long," Quinn's voice was emotion-laden.
Rachel's brows creased and her brown eyes fluttered open only slightly, hooded in a moment of passion, "Say my name," she wanted Quinn to acknowledge that she was indeed kissing Rachel. Kissing a girl. Claiming Rachel. "Say my name and I'm yours, Quinn." Heavy panting between them, lips sometimes moving forward as if to capture each other again but still centimeters apart. Their breaths mingling, Rachel's fingers clutched at the back of Quinn's neck.
"Please," Quinn whispered. "Rachel."
She'd never known this was what she wanted from Quinn. She'd never known this was the inevitable answer. She'd never thought she'd cry at the sound of her own name. Still, hot tears stung her eyes.
"Rachel," Quinn said the name with a kind of question, an urgent unknowable question. "Kiss me."
Rachel understood this, swooned at this. She wanted Rachel to want her, too.
Rachel attempted to control herself, leaned forward and brushed her lips across Quinn's; hot intake of breath against Rachel's lips. Her heart raced. Again, she teased Quinn with a feather-light kiss. Slow. Intentional. Another, this time more insistent. Rachel's tongue darted out briefly, tasted vanilla chapstick. She could feel Quinn shivering at the attention.
The brunette never knew she was so good at turning someone on, claiming someone this way.
"Rachel."
Rachel whispered against Quinn's ear as her arms wrapped tighter, her lips grazing an earlobe, "I've wanted you without knowing I wanted you." Her emotions fought with her loins. She burned, she ached, she wanted to cry. Rachel pulled away momentarily, found a pair of dilated and affectionate eyes lingering on her. Felt the raising of Quinn's chest as she breathed against her.
Her mind was beginning to give up on rational thought. Here the hottest girl in school to both boys and girls had been pining for Rachel all along, was practically begging Rachel to kiss her. And it felt right. It felt right to kiss Quinn, felt right when she pushed Quinn carefully against the faux-velvet of the auditorium wall and kissed her hard enough to elicit a ragged moan that vibrated between them.
Kissing evolved into more; groping fingers found their way underneath shirts and Rachel was twisting a nipple beneath her thumb and forefinger, hips pinning Quinn's to the wall. When the word, "Baby," slipped from Rachel's mouth Quinn had taken Rachel's hand and shoved it beneath her skirt and spanks. She had made Quinn wet. She was about to fuck Quinn Fabray in the auditorium and she'd never wanted to fuck someone so bad in her life.
Quinn was panting against Rachel's neck and digging her fingernails into Rachel's shoulders, moaning every time Rachel whispered "baby" into her ear. When the words "fuck me" fell from Quinn's mouth, Rachel kneaded her nuckles against pulsing walls and pressed her finger tips just there and Quinn was nearly shouting her name.
Rachel didn't want to stop, so that night when Quinn came by to confess everything she had ever felt for Rachel, Rachel had cried and kissed Quinn again and Quinn had held her as if Rachel was her life-raft. They fell asleep that way, and that's why Rachel woke up next to Quinn the next morning, and why Quinn had made love to Rachel before school.
That's why Rachel glowed in Biology, and why Quinn moved her chair just a little closer to the brunette in Glee. That's why Quinn had a habit of showing Rachel just how turned on she was at the end of the day and why they had to make believable excuses for Quinn to stay the night even on school nights.
Rachel smiled the day she found a single note, three months later, in her locker. It simply said:
I love you.