I do not own Glee. If I did, I wouldn't write this, rather make it a reality.
Rachel sighs and straightens her back, glancing down at her blouse and short skirt. She straightens it out and brushes away the imaginary wrinkles, trying to stall. Her new class should be here any minute.
She's cleaned the board five times. Once in a star pattern, once right to left, once left to right, once up and down, and once more up and down because last time she forgot to dry the board and left streaks. She has a brand new box of chalk, her phone is on vibrate, her skirt is short enough to be cute, but remain professional.
She brushes away imaginary wrinkles again before snapping her head up.
Brown eyes look to the closed door and she nods.
"Hello, class. I'm Rachel Berry. I am your music theory teacher for the year. I attended Juilliard, where I studied Theory and Composition as well as Voice."
She halted her speech abruptly when a shaggy, blonde head popped into her peripheral vision. She waited for the student to take her seat.
"And you are?"
Rachel's brown eyes met deep hazel ones, more green than brown, and all of the anger she had dissipated.
"Quinn Fabray, Sophomore here at Yale. We had a dormitory malfunction. "
Rachel simply nodded and continued on with her lecture, going over necessary materials, explaining her metaphors and why they are important.
When she concluded class, she wiped down the board, watching partially as the students filed out of the classroom. Hazel eyes met brown, and all Rachel could do was swallow hard.