A/N: This was written for a Drabble a Day challenge ... even though I definitely haven't been writing a drabble a day.

Rating: PG-13
Warning: Sexual implications.
Word Count: 400+
Word Prompt: Denial
Characters: Quinn Fabray/Sam Evans.

Quinn tells herself that she has every right to be cautious, to reject Sam without batting an eyelash and move on with her life. After everything she's gone through, with Puck and Beth and nine months of a swollen belly, she's determined not to fall into another relationship for at least a year. She has too much time to make up for, too much to get done and more important things to focus on.

And yet, as much as she tells herself that she doesn't need him, doesn't want him and definitely isn'tattracted to him, she finds herself in the same position every day without a single complaint or rejection falling from her lips.

He meets her at her car after school, leaning against the passenger door with a dopey smile that certainly doesn't make her stomach flutter.

He puts on a voice and does a cheesy impression that certainly doesn't make her eyes sparkle with laughter.

He gets in the car with her and lets her drive him to the Fabray household, hand resting comfortably on her thigh in a way that certainly doesn't make her skin tingle with anticipation.

And then she leads him inside, tugs him into one of the many rooms with an inviting smile, closing the doors behind her before pushing herself up onto the tips of her toes and kissing him.

It's always the same but it always feel so new. They kiss, they moan, they explore, but Quinn always stops Sam before he can reach between her thighs and feel the heat that definitely isn't pooling in her cheerleading spanks.

Because she wouldn't get wet around Sam, not when she's not attracted to him, not when she doesn't enjoy kissing him at all. But deep down, even if she won't admit it to herself, she knows that she does enjoy kissing him, too much to be healthy, too much for her to handle.

His lips aren't chapped like Finn's and his kisses aren't rough like Puck's, the soft pressure of his mouth on hers just right. It doesn't feel like he's pushing her into doing anything, but his tenderness doesn't come across as inexperience either. and it's something that she soon comes to crave.

But she doesn't actually crave it, or so she tells herself. Because craving it means she needs it, needs Sam, and she doesn't need anybody. Especially not him, with his lopsided grins and gentle kisses, with his stupid impressions that she never understands and wandering hands that never make her shiver beneath him (or on top of him, or beside him, or in front of him, ever).

No, Quinn doesn't need him.

Or want him.

And she most definitely isn't attracted to him.

… Except she really, really is.

FIN.
Feedback is appreciated.