Not Tonight, a glee fanfic

A/N- Wrote a song and this story came to mind. Thought I would share it with you.

Disclaimer- I don't own the characters just their thoughts and actions.

I've been known to have a sixth sense, a sort of gut feeling, that I followed on multiple decisions and choices that I have made throughout my life. It has helped me, hindered me, shown me love, and exposed me to heartbreak. It was my sixth sense that had my feet walking to an old, yet classically intriguing pub tonight after seven months of avoiding that general area on the west side of the city (I tried to maintain a twenty block radius around her place for the first few months, but the number was slowly decreasing as time went on).

I have never been into this particular pub before- even when I had frequented the area- but it was a good twelve blocks from her apartment, so I wasn't too worried about an accidental run in. Though my sixth sense may have led me to standing outside the front door, it was the sign on the window stating "Open Mic Night" that sealed the deal for me. A few shots of tequila and I would be good to claim the mic for the entire evening. Even slightly inebriated, I know I would be better than any of the other patrons that will be in there tonight. It has been awhile since I've sung for the hell of it; my voice has been rendered to the dull repetitive songs of the musical I'm currently in. Though I still maintain perfect pitch, I can hear the whispers of my coworkers saying I've lost my passion. It's not my passion that's lost, but the muse to which it was inspired from. I shake my head to rid any thoughts that may ruin a potentially pleasant evening and open the door.

The pub is small with no more than fifteen tables surrounded by mismatched chairs scattered throughout the room. It's not very well lit, but there's enough light to see some heads turn to look at me as I make my way to the bar. A few eyes continue to linger on my body and I'm not sure if they are checking me out or if I have just overstepped my boundaries and came into an invite only high class club. As I glance around the room taking in the setting, most of the people turn their focus back to the groups they are sitting with. The only person still staring at me is a cute blonde bartender, so I flash her my paparazzi smile as I sit down and order a 7 and 7 (the shots can wait for a bit). I continue to take in the ambiance of the place, it seems like the "run down look" is more of a facade, because with almost every table filled on a Tuesday night business must be doing fairly well.

"Don't worry bout them honey," the bartender says as she sets my drink down. I turn my attention back to her and after scrunching my eyebrows in confusion, she leans on the bar to get a little closer to me.

"They're just not used to attractive women coming in here by themselves," she states as I dig my wallet out of my purse to pay. She reaches across the bar and stills my hands, "Drinks on me tonight," she husks out seductively then turns away to help another customer. No more than fifteen seconds later, as I'm still staring at her in awe (hey, it's been a while since I've been hit on), she catches my eye and winks at me.

It's moments like these where I wonder if I have a big 'lesbian' stamped across my forehead. Or perhaps all bartenders that work at this pub have to be overtly friendly and flirtatious. Either way, I'm not going to complain, though I'm not short of money, it's always nice to have free drinks. Plus the prospect of doing something, Lord anything, with this new woman is extremely appealing. It's been long, far too long, and it's time for me to move on. I mean… I already have moved on. Yes, I absolutely have. She most certainly has moved on, why else would she have left. Shit, no. I'm not getting into this, not tonight. Tonight is going to be a fun night for me. I'm going to flirt with that hot blonde bartender who in no shape, way, or form reminds me of her. Dammit! It's over, plain and simple.

As I sip on my drink, I look towards the corner of the room where the mic is set up. Currently no one is singing, and I am extremely tempted to go up there and belt out "On My Own." Not only is it rather insightful into my current predicament, but once the blondie behind the bar hears my voice, there is no way I won't be going home with her. However, being new to this place, I'm unsure if there is a certain procedure that must be followed such as a list of singers already signed up with certain time slots in which they are to perform. I'm not even sure what time the mic is technically open for the public. Blondie keeps making eyes at me from the other end of the bar so I motion her to come over in order to get my questions answered.

"Hey…" I look down to her name tag conveniently located on her left breast which allows me to linger on her cleavage for a few seconds, "…Kelly?" I ask returning my wandering eyes to her face. She nods in approval waiting for me to go on. I smile at her figuring she must be a least somewhat attracted to me because she doesn't need to flirt for tips since I'm not paying. Knowing I'm already half-way in (the other half coming after my superb singing), I skip out on any playful banter and get straight to the point.

"I am new to this place, obviously, but I was curious if there are any regulations in regards to your open mic performances. I notice it is currently empty, but I'm unsure if it is acceptable for me to step right up and start the night off with a bang or if perhaps there is an order of events or maybe even a sign-up sheet?" Kelly looks back at me with wide eyes as it took a minute for her to process everything. I have to bite my tongue to not continue on with my rambling, just another curse I have yet to outgrow. I bow my head slightly, hopefully my long winded way with words wouldn't scare Kelly off. Finally her brain seems to process everything.

"So you want to sing?" Kelly asks raising one eyebrow suggestively. Oh God, how many times had I seen that on a completely different blonde.

"No," I state confidently, "I don't want to sing, I do sing. And I will be singing tonight, at whatever time is deemed appropriate." Kelly smirks at my answer then turns around to look at the clock that is on the wall behind the bar. She grabs my empty glass and began mixing me another drink.

"Well there are usually a couple local bands and solo artists that come in around this time. They'll play a few songs each, no more than twenty minutes apiece I'd say. Most of the time the mics open to anyone around 11. At which you can steal the show and impress me." She places my new drink in front of me waiting for my response.

"You will be impressed, trust me," I reply with a cocky grin. "So are there any good acts coming in tonight, or is it normally different groups every week?" I am curious not only about my competition, but also it's been a while since I've checked out the local music scene.

"Um every week is different. Sometimes we'll get a band that's in here for a month straight and sometimes someone will just come in off the street for one night and we'll never see him again." She begins to wipe the counter in order to look busy as we carry on our conversation. "But there is this one chick, super sexy, who's been playing here every week for the last three months. Just her and the piano, I think she writes her own music too cuz I never recognize any of it."

"What's her name?" I ask wondering if I've heard of the woman. It's not uncommon for people in my business to do a little song writing and performing on the side for fun.

"No clue," she says shaking her head. "I would totally be into her if she didn't seem so hung up on the chick she sings for. Don't get me wrong, her songs are amazing, but there's only so much of her depressing love life that I can take. But maybe you're into that kind of stuff…" Kelly trails off looking at me questioningly.

"Mmm, guess I'll just have to wait and hear it for myself," I state back mindlessly as I'm still wondering who would be playing in the same pub for three months. If they were truly dedicated to their music, wouldn't they want to expand their fan base by playing in different venues?

"Well if you're not into that, but maybe looking for something else…" Kelly says as she flows a pen over a napkin, "here's my number. Feel free to call at any time." She leaves with a quick wink as I look at the napkin before shoving it into my purse. I won't need that number because she will still be working when I go up to sing. I will hold my position at the mic until she gets off work, then she will take me home…or I will take her home, I'll work out the logistics later…and I will get a well-deserved night of uninterrupted adult fun. I smile to myself thanking my sixth sense for bringing me here tonight.

I finish off my second drink when the first group starts to play. They are some college garage band that did a lot of oldies covers but mixed in some top 40. Not exactly my cup of tea, but I guess I can't expect them to pull out any Broadway with their mix of instruments and vocals. I decide to slow down on my drinking since not only would it be easier to outshine the other performers if I wasn't completely wasted, but when I get lucky tonight I want to be on top of my game. It will be just water for me from here on out (maybe tequila shots next time I come here…if there is a next time).

By the time the second band starts playing, I am quickly losing interest. I begin to look at the other patrons in the pub and make up stories about their life, but even that loses its appeal after a while. Finally I settle for watching the clock tick as the minutes slowly pass while I occasionally let my gaze fall on Kelly. She is a rather pretty woman, even if Kelly reminds me of her. Maybe I just have a thing for blondes.

"Hello again everybody." My head snaps to the mic corner so fast I feel my neck pop. My hand shoots immediately to the back of my neck to try and ease the pain, but it's just one of those stingers that will go away in a minute. My heart is thundering against my chest, and it's not from the unintentional pain I just inflicted upon myself, it's from that voice. I could recognize that voice anywhere.

"Hope you all have had a good week since I've last seen you. Um, I've got a couple new songs for you tonight, but I think I'll just start off with my usual ones. Just in case," the voice pauses for half a second, "…just in case there's someone new in here tonight."

I get up off my bar stool to get a better view of the next act, though I have no doubt in my mind who it is. Her short blonde hair is as messy as ever; looks like it has been a while since she's gotten it cut or styled. Her faded jeans seem a little too big on her, with holes in the knees and a paint stain on the left front pocket. Her baggy dark green shirt leaves a lot to question about what is underneath though I already know the answer. Taking in her appearance, I wonder if she's taking the poor beat down musician to heart, but her skinny arms and slightly sunken cheeks lead me to believe that's it's not just a front. And yet even looking completely broken, this woman is still breathtakingly beautiful.

Had I known when Kelly was talking about the 'super sexy' chick that it was her, my ex-girlfriend, I would have high-tailed it out the pub without looking back. I shut that door on that part of my life, and I sure as hell didn't want it to be thrown open just from the mere presence of her. I didn't even know she wrote her own music; perhaps it was something she took up after the break up. I want nothing more than to march right out of the pub, but my feet are glued to the ground, my eyes stuck on her body, my ears waiting to hear her voice.

She plays a short intro of chords, mostly minor ones with a dark tone, before she opens her mouth and starts to sing.

"I knew from the moment I walked away that I had it all wrong
Can you really blame me for being scared when love has tagged along
Blinded by the unknown these feelings I didn't know how to share
I stopped and looked back one more time but you were no longer there
Wish I could rewind, go back in time, fix my mistakes one by one
What I would give, for you to forgive, for the things I should have done
My friends all say, go my own way, they tell me soon I'll be alright
But not tonight"

I stand completely transfixed. This is not happening. I mean, this song could definitely be about anyone. I'm sure she's been with plenty of other women since we were together. Of course that doesn't stop me from having flashbacks of the day she left. As if the last seven months never happened, I can see her back as she walks down the street leaving me standing there wounded and confused. There wasn't a fight or yelling, she just gave me one last hug while saying she couldn't do it anymore. I didn't know what she meant by that, but her retreating body made her statement quite clear.

She had seemed a bit withdrawn the few weeks before, but she was never one to speak her mind so I thought nothing of it. I wanted to yell out to her, do anything to make her come back, but in the back of my mind I always thought that our relationship was too good to be true. It was only a matter of time before she got annoyed with me or wanted to move on to something better. She was made for great things even if she didn't know it. Knowing that her decision was made, I turned and ran. I ran, ran, then ran some more. I didn't stop until my lungs were gasping for air as tears streamed down my face and my legs gave way. I shake my head to erase the image; that is not a day I ever want to relive.

She has moved on to what I assume to be the chorus.

"Because tonight, I'll be alone just thinking about you
And tonight, I pray that I'll be on your mind too
Your breath upon my skin, my hands in your hair
Replay the memories, my thoughts everywhere
And sometimes, I deny that what we had was right
But not tonight"

God, how many sleepless nights did I spend with images of her relentlessly teasing my mind? It was damn near impossible to sleep without her warm soft body to cuddle with; her strong arms keeping me close. It took almost a month for me to finally sleep through the night without waking up in tears.

She keeps her eyes focused on the piano as she continues to the next verse.

"I make my way through crowded streets every sight reminds me of you
Stolen kisses in the alley next to the bar where I saw you
The bartender makes my usual drink knows I'll be there for a while
Been there every night since I left, still can't work up the nerve to dial
Another drink to dull the pain cuz I can't live like this no more
I remember you in my bed all our clothes scattered on the floor
Your crooked smile, your dark brown eyes, you whispered we would be alright
But not tonight"

My cheeks flush and I quickly look around at the other customers, I can't believe she just sang about our past sex life in public! No one seems to be bothered by it, and I suppose none of them know that I'm the "you" in this song…or at least it sure as hell seems that I am.

Again my mind flashes to over a year ago when I was leaving a bar just down the street from my apartment. I had been chatting with a castmate and opened the door without looking, smacking a beautiful blonde right into her perfectly straight non-Hebraic nose. I quickly apologized profusely and when she looked up I nearly fainted in shock. I didn't even know she was living in New York let alone frequented the area that I lived. And Lord, five years did nothing but enhance all of her physical features in all the right ways. We exchanged numbers, had our first date three days later, began dating exclusively after two weeks, became girlfriends after 27 days and consequently broke up five and a half months later- which was about seven months ago. Not that I have been keeping track.

She has finally looked up from the keys to scan the audience, but I immediately advert my gaze to the floor much too scared to make eye contact with her as her voice reprises the chorus.

Is she really still thinking about me every night? This seems almost dramatic and that's coming from me. I can't decide if it is pathetic or extremely romantic, though I'm leaning towards the latter. But still, she was the one who left me- if anything, I should be hung up on her! Which I'm not, not at all. I've moved on just like she expected me to when she walked away, and I've got Kelly's number in my purse to prove it.

The chords change and she focuses once again on her piano playing as she approaches the bridge.

"Stumbled out in the night, liquid courage in me
Lost my phone so I walk to the place I know you'll be
Three knocks on the door, you open it just a crack
Begging like crazy for you to please take me back
No words said, you shake your head, then you're out of sight
Looks like you're moving on without me in your life
I walk away, wondering if someday, I will ever get it right
But not tonight"

That was the worst. It was maybe four months ago, 2:33 in the morning when I heard the pounding on the door. I had rehearsals the next morning at 7, so I was less than pleased to get rudely awoken at that hour of night. I threw on my robe and hurried to the door, not even checking the peephole before I opened up with all intentions of giving the slumber intruder a piece of my mind.

There she was, piss drunk smelling like a pub, tears streaming down her face staining her shirt, her hand still in a fist almost imbedded in my door. When she saw me her face lit up for a moment before she began sobbing, telling me how much she missed me and wanted to be with me and couldn't live without me. And I wanted her words to be true. I wanted them to be true so badly. But that's all they were. Just words. All of her actions had told me otherwise. I was the one confident in the relationship. I told her everything would be alright. She was the one who doubted. She was the one who left. And she was the one who couldn't even work up the nerve to talk to me unless she was completely wasted.

As much as I wanted her back, I didn't want her like that. I needed to move on, I needed to get over her, and I couldn't do that with her trying to bust down my apartment door whenever she felt lonely. So I shook my head sadly and closed the door on her before climbing back into bed staining my pillow with tears from another puncture wound to my heart. Four months later the stains have long been washed but the wounds cannot be erased.

I smile ever so slightly at one of the lines, and if we were still on talking terms I would tease her for using my song title in her lyrics. By now I know it's no coincidence and there is no other girl. She wrote this song for me, about me…and about her.

As she gets to the reprise of the chorus again, she lifts her eyes from the piano and scans the crowd. This time I will myself to watch her, to see her lips form the words she wants me to hear, to listen to her soft, smooth voice sing the thoughts she couldn't speak.

Her voice trails off as her fingers hit the final chord and her eyes sweep right past my direction. I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding. I can't decide if I should listen to the rest of her set or just book it out of the pub before she notices me. My feet stay planted as my brain wages a war on itself and I continue staring at the stage where she is sitting.

She's drinking out of a water bottle (wise choice to keep your throat hydrated during performances) and sets it on the floor when she's finished. She looks around the pub and opens her mouth to speak when I finally make contact with those sober hazel eyes after seven long months. My breath hitches and I know I should have left when I had the chance. Her mouth stays open as she stares at me and the other patrons shift uncomfortably as they are confused by her seemingly awkward manners. I can't handle the intensity in her eyes any longer and I finally connect my brain to my feet forcing them to turn me around and head towards the door.

"Wait!" The blonde singer has apparently found her voice again. My body stops abruptly, she always had so much involuntary control over my actions. I turn just my head so I can see her and notice the other customers looking around in confusion, some of them staring at her, some staring at me, and some are just too drunk to notice or care. She still has her eyes focused on me, but has yet to say anything of consequence that would compel me to stay. Just as I'm about to make my exit, she speaks up.

"Sorry guys but I'm gonna have to cut it short tonight." She states as she looks at the various customers. "I've been waiting for this night for three and a half months, and I've already let too many great opportunities pass me by to let this one slip away too. Have a good night, and if I'm lucky you guys won't have to suffer through my songs next week." This earns some light laughter from the crowd as she steps off the stage and basically jogs to where I'm standing. I turn my body so my neck isn't craned awkwardly and by the time she makes it to me, I am fully facing her.

"Rachel," she breaths out softly as if she can't believe I'm there, which I suppose might be accurate of her thoughts.

"Quinn," I reply with a slight nod of acknowledgment. I don't make any effort to further the conversation. I need to stay strong. Just get through the pleasantries and some small talk then excuse myself politely. I can do this. I can show her I've moved on even if apparently she hasn't.

"I can't believe you are here." She states while running a hand through her hair. It makes it even messier than before and yet I still find her completely adorable. Damn her effects on my heart.

"I saw the open mic sign, so you know…" I trail off thinking about the countless times we went to karaoke or open mic nights in various bars throughout the city. A small smile plays on her lips and I know she's thinking about them too.

"How are you?" Her question seems genuine, but I have no desire to answer it. No answer I could come up would be suitable anyway.

"I didn't know you wrote songs," I state. She doesn't seem to be put off by my change of subject, though perhaps she's just happy to be talking to me at all if her farewell words on the mic are any indication of how she feels.

"Yeah I started after," she pauses searching for the right word, "you know." I nod and she continues, "It's easier for me to express my thoughts through music, like you do with singing, but I couldn't find any songs that fit what I wanted to say, so I wrote my own." There's a hint of glimmer in her eyes, like the one I saw back in high school when she talked about her future at Yale or the one I noticed when she asked my on our first date and I said yes.

"It was good." I reply simply. She smiles at my compliment knowing that it's hard to get any sort of music approval from Rachel Berry.

"Thanks." She ducks her head shyly then looks up at me through her eyelashes. Damn her for knowing all of my weaknesses. I tear my eyes away from her, knowing it's my turn to respond in proper conversational etiquette.

"You could at least pay me some royalty fees for using my song title in your lyrics. I know you were referring to one of my more brilliant original songs." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and she starts laughing. Her laughter is so lovely and light-hearted that my body physically aches from how much I miss hearing it. She shouldn't be having this effect on me and yet since the first day we met in high school, her ability to cause me so much joy and pain simultaneously seems inevitable.

"I'll give you 50 percent of my earnings once I make it big." She works as a middle manager of a theater production company so I highly doubt she plans for her music career to take off.

"I demand no less than 75," I retort quickly with a smirk. I'm impressed with my ability to keep my cool. As long as we keep it light, I'm positive I can leave this conversation without scars. And maybe sometime in the future, the far future, we could be friends. I almost shudder at that thought. I'd be kidding myself if I ever thought just being friends with her would be enough. It would be better and easier on both of us if we just went about our lives separately only to meet at random high school reunions and glee member's awkward weddings.

"Well, I never could say no to you," she says in a playfu tone. And was that ever true. She controlled me with her actions and I controlled her with my words. Not in a dominating or threatening way, but in a I can't help what I do because I'm so in love with you way. Except she wasn't in love with me. Or so I thought. But whether she loved me back then or not didn't matter because right here and right now, she was worming her way back into my heart even after I promised myself I wouldn't let her do that again. If my heart got broken one more time by her, I was positive there would be no way for me to put the pieces back together.

"I should get going," I say to bring our conversation to an end. She takes a step towards me concern etched in her facial features as I step back to keep our previous distance.

"I was hoping we could catch up," she stated as her lips form a small frown.

"We just did," my mouth speaks out monotonously. The war once raging in my mind has now become a battle between brain and heart. The brain wants me to leave, immediately and never look back. Save myself from the inevitable heartbreak when she leaves me. The heart is screaming for me to hear her out; give her a second chance, everyone deserves them. I have only felt my happiest, my most complete when I'm with her and no one could ever compare. It seems my brain is winning at the moment.

"But you haven't told me about yourself. How's the musical going? I heard you got a part in the revival of RENT. Are you enjoying it?" Again her eyes light up as she talks about my career and it saddens me to think that I don't get that excited about it anymore. It's my life after all, if anyone should be thrilled, it's me. I can feel the tears start to build, and I silently curse myself for not being able to control my emotions in front of her. The stress of the situation and complexity of our entire relationship is too much to handle at the moment, and I do not want her to see the effect she still has on me.

"Sorry, but I have to go." I turn my back to her just as she did seven months ago and let the tears begin to fall not bothering to wipe them away. I make it out the door and five steps down the street before I hear my name being called.

"Rachel!" I feel a hand on my shoulder and I quickly turn around shaking it off. She pulls her arm back as if to show that she means no harm.

"Rachel, I made a mistake when I left you. I was stupid and scared and confused. I had all these feelings for you that I never had with anyone else I had been with, not those idiot boys from high school or other people I dated before you smacked me in the face with that door." She smiles at this hoping to get a positive reaction from me, but years of acting allow me to keep my face void of emotion, so she moves on.

"I didn't understand what was going on or why it felt so perfect being with you. I knew it must have been too good to be true. Then one morning, I woke up with you in my arms, your head resting on my chest, your arm gripping my hip, holding me close to you and I knew I wanted to wake up that way for the rest of my life. That's when I realized I was in love with you." She pauses to catch her breath and I can't ever remember a time when she has been this long winded.

"But God, I couldn't be in love with. Everything good that I've ever loved in my life has been ruined and I just couldn't do that to you. You deserved so much better than me, you still do. I wasn't going to be the one to hold you back; I just couldn't do that to you anymore so I left. But not a day goes by that I don't regret that decision, because even though you have no reason to love me, I can't help but to still be hopelessly in love with you." She finishes her thoughts and by this time I'm not the only one crying. I have absolutely no idea how to respond to that confession. Although the idea was there in the song, hearing her say it out loud, the words that I never once heard while we were together, makes me ecstatic and sick at the same time. Why now? Why did she have to wait until after we broke up and after she drunkenly begged me to get back together to finally tell me how she really feels.

"Why now?" I ask as it is the only sensible thought I can come up with at the moment.

"Sorry?" She asks so I clarify myself.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"It may be the only chance I have." She takes a step closer to me and this time I don't back away. A soft smile appears on her face at the small victory and I can tell that in my internal battle, my heart has begun to conquer. "I don't want to spend another day of my life without you in it." She reaches out to brush a stray hair behind my ear and her thumb grazes over my cheek. I close my eyes relishing her touch and our close proximity. My mind has all but given up the ability to form coherent thoughts on why I shouldn't just jump back into her arms. I take a half step back, far enough so that I can focus but close enough that she won't be offended by the action.

"How do I know you won't just leave again?" My resolve to stay detached and move on is all but broken and she can sense it. She takes another step forward leaving barely six inches between our bodies. This is the closest I've been to her since the hug she gave me before her last goodbye.

"I never make the same mistake twice when it comes to you. I can't walk away from something I need, and I know now that I need you." She reaches her hands out and places them softly just above my hips. It the comfort I've so desperately yearned for in her absence yet it is completely overwhelming- too much, too fast. Again I take a half step backward and she drops her hands to her sides.

"It won't be like it was before." I state figuring she will understand my vague statement. She smiles before replying.

"I know. It will be better." I'm not sure how accurate her statment is, but I hope it will, and I think it might. A taxi honks loudly on the street right next to us; I turn my head in sudden reaction to the sound and I feel a smack on my forehead as it collides with her face.

"Ow shit! My nose." She's bent over with her face in her faces.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Are you bleeding?" Even though it wasn't completely my fault I still feel guilty. Until she looks up at me and I see a smirk on her face. Luckily I'm smarter than my high school boyfriend and catch on quickly.

"Quinn Fabray! What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Well I was going to the bar, but I suppose a trip to the ER is now in order." She replies still holding her nose with one hand.

"Is it really that bad?" I was more concerned the first time, but judging by the slight ache on my head I am slightly worried for her this time as well.

"Nah, nothing a little nose job can't fix." She winks at me and I chuckle knowing that she secretly adores my nose.

"I can't believe I ran into you," I say as she coughs 'literally.' "What are you doing in New York? Are you her on vacation or …" I trail off not knowing what other options there could be.

"No, I work here. Moved to the city after I graduated from Yale." I nod with a smile etched on my face, I had been so pleased to hear she graduated top of her class.

"Oh." I distinctly remember being displeased with that statement the first time around, but true to my acting profession I stay in character.

"Yeah," she replies. We both smile shyly at one another. At that point, we had exchanged phone numbers in order to elude any awkwardness, plus I needed to get home and sleep before my early rehearsal. Seeing as we already have each other's contact information, I make an artistic decision and cut those few lines.

"Well, I should get going, early rehearsal in the morning. But it was really good to see you Quinn." I step forward to give her a hug, but stop halfway. A hug was definitely in the script for this scene, but I just can't handle that sort of intimate gesture at the moment. So I settle on grazing my hand lightly from her shoulder to her elbow. She shudders slightly or perhaps it was just a shiver, but I am pleased that I can still cause that reaction in her. As I pull my hand back, she reaches forward and takes it in her own completely breaking character and throwing the whole damn script out the window.

"Do you want to go get some coffee?" She asks softly her eyes begging for me to say yes. Of course I want to, but I know I can't. I need time for everything that just transpired to settle. I wasn't moving on, I should have known after the first month that my efforts would be futile, but I wasn't going to rush back into things with her and pretend everything was perfect.

"Not tonight," I reply and my heart wrenches as she slowly lets go of my hand and drops her head. I can't see her eyes so I have no clue what she is thinking, but I can only assume that she's gone to the worst case scenario in her mind. Not tonight doesn't mean not ever. "But maybe you can call me next week; I'm usually free on Mondays." She looks up and gives me the brightest smile I've seen on her face all night and that look alone causes my lips to tug upwards. She nods in acceptance and I take that as my cue to leave. I'm about ten paces away when I hear her voice again.

"You could at least pay me some royalty fees for using my song lyrics in your answer." I look over my shoulder to see her smirking at me.

"I'll give you 50 percent of my earnings once I make it big," I respond.

"Pssh, you already made it big. I demand no less than 75," she counters.

"You drive a tough bargain Ms. Fabray. 60 percent, that's my final offer," I humor with another reply.

"How about we barter? I give you my song lyrics; you give me a second chance." She is still a good fifteen feet away, but I can feel the tension in her body as she waits for my answer. I pause for a moment pretending to think about it. But my decision had already been made after the first nose slamming incident on the streets in New York. I couldn't live without her in my life and I didn't want to.

"Deal," I say and she pumps her fist in the air which makes me laugh. As I walk the streets back to my apartment, I can't help but to think that sometimes my sixth sense is a pain in the ass. And then sometimes it is blessing in disguise.