Her phone doesn't stop vibrating from the moment she turns it on. Every few minutes or so, it's like she's giving a detailed description of the five foot walk she just had. It's endearing. At least, that's what it's supposed to be, right?

She hasn't had much of a chance to talk to Santana due to their equally grueling schedules (Santana with cheer practice and Quinn with her classes and the show she auditioned for), so their time back in Lima is a reunion for the two best friends (as it is for everyone else who came back for the Thanksgiving holiday).

"I miss this place," Quinn reminisces, looking around as she leans against the piano.

She remembers sneaking off here during her sophomore year when things were just too much. She remembers how Puck would skip his classes and stay here with her, back before Finn had found out, rambling on about nonsense that would make her momentarily forget her troubles or the mess she had gotten him in.

"It looks a lot smaller when you're not the one here," Santana notes, picking up the sheet music to see what they're working on this week. "Ugh, I always hated this song."

Quinn's about to answer when her phone vibrates once more. It's a phone call, not a text this time around. She answers it. During this call, she once again assures him that she's fine, not with anyone, and merely walking around her high school.

"Third call this afternoon, Q," Santana points out as the blonde hangs up.

"He's just worried about me," Quinn answers. "He likes to know where I am, how I'm doing."

"My cousin dated a guy like that. Came home with bruises so bad that if my Tia Consuela wasn't so worried about her well-being, she would have bruise her then, too."

"It's not like that," Quinn retorts.

"You remember what happened with Beiste last year, too…"

"Stop." Quinn sends a glare over at her. "It's not like that. He just…hasn't had a great relationship before this one so he's worried."

Their conversation stops just as the students file into the choir room, all excited to hear and see what they'd be doing today with their mentors. She gets three more calls during that hour and four more texts. Santana shuts her phone off before she can protest and keeps it on her so she can't get it back.

"He's a douchebag!" Santana shouts at her once they pull up into the parking lot of Breadstix.

The graduates had all decided to have a dinner together. It was an informal reunion of sorts.

"Santana!"

"No guy mistakenly calls you by a different name with that kind of text!"

He had messaged her while Quinn was with Santana. In this message was something about how his girlfriend was safely gone for the holiday and he'd be free to do…stuff…without worries.

"Maybe it was one of his friends…"

"Bullshit, Quinn! He's cheating on you! God knows how long he has been! And you've just sat there and taken it all!"

She wipes the tears from her eyes and places her phone back in her purse, heading straight into the restaurant and to the booth where all her friends sat. When they all exchange hugs, she hugs him the longest. He doesn't pull away until she moves first.

Her acting pays off because all throughout dinner she's got a smile on her face. Santana excuses herself once they're all done and have all paid. While Quinn waits for her outside, Puck arrives and stands next to her.

"She left…" he tells her.

"What? She would…" she trails off, looking up at him.

He nods. "She told me she was going to leave you here. Even told me about your dick of a boyfriend back at Yale."

"He's not—"

"He cheated on you and you found out by receiving someone else's text," he finishes. "He's a dick."

She rolls her eyes but searches through her bag for her phone.

"She took your phone, too. I'm pretty sure she's gonna give him a piece of her mind," he ponders.

She turns and sits down at the nearby bench. "Could you just leave me here to be miserable alone?"

It's not that easy, she realizes. He's sitting down next to her soon after. "Mind if I sit here miserable with you?"

She shoots him a look. "But you've got LA going for you. Your pools, your girls…"

"I've got two other jobs just to keep my apartment," he admits. "My girls are…dammit, they're not you, Q! They never will be, no matter how many of them I fuck."

She's momentarily flabbergasted. That is, until she mumbles, "Maybe you'll have better luck elsewhere."

He replies back with a question. "What about New Haven?"