Hi there.
This is my first Faberry fic. So I apologize greatly if the characters are OOC(Plus all the spelling/grammar mistakes). When I started writing this I realized I had no idea how to write Quinn. My chapters are going to directly correspond with the episodes so this one takes place during the 12/6 one. Err 'Hold on to Sixteen' I think it was.
Anyways please read and review!
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or else a lesbian colony would've formed by now.
The confession suited Rachel Berry perfectly. It was brutally honest, abrasive, lengthy, and overly articulate. Quinn as an instinctive response was first irritated (a reaction that had lessened over the past few months though) before her brain scanned over the words Rachel was spewing at a breathless speed.
"Well you see, more recently, I have been experiencing some abnormalities in my feelings towards you. Not that they are malicious, no not that. But they are drastically different than before. I have considered the fact that you were raised in a more religious environment-not that you would have any stereotypical prejudice, but in general society," She took a deep breath of air. Her brown eyes lifted their gaze off of the tiles of the abandoned McKinely hallway. They searched Quinn's face for any signs of emotion.
She continued in her same steady matter of fact way, "Recently," she paused, "I have been experiencing a sort of sexual attraction towards you." Her smile was humorless, "I thought it would be rather perverse of me not to tell you and of course the matter of Finn comes into the equation bu-"
Quinn swiftly cut her off before the girl started to digress completely, "Rachel". Her head snapped away from her own rambles. Her entire body was still. From the tip of her brunette hair to the wedges of her shoes, not a single part of her was moving. The usual energetic, overzealous, star singer of McKinely was frozen. Quinn fleeting thought of how fascinating it was to have someone so transformed just for her next sentence.
Quinn had gotten dozens of confessions in her life. Never one from a girl, as the lesbian population of Lima consisted mainly of Santana and Brittany; but nonetheless she knew how to deal with these situations.
It did leave her a bit shocked. This was after all, Rachel, Rachel Berry, her notorious enemy and prime target for torturing for the majority of their high school years. Yet here she was. Bottom lip caught in between clenched teeth to suppress any outburst, and stare filled with such confusion and raw uncertainty that Quinn had never seen in her before. Her hands were fisting the black fabric of her dress, and her chest barely moving up and down with shallow breaths.
The cheering of their Glee club at the end of their performance had withered down to a dull roar. The winner had yet to be announced, and Quinn had slipped out for a breath of air. When she had seen Rachel on her heels she had expected the girl to give her last best attempt on a persuasive argument for Quinn not to reveal the relationship between the Troubletones' coach and Puck.
She hadn't expected this.
"I'm not particularly looking for an answer. More of…clarification of how I should interact with you in the future is my intention."
Quinn's expression was cold. It was a difficult face to form after the high from her sectional performance. But all she had to do was remember the Cheerio's face-pursued lips, and an unwavering retort, "Rachel, I have a lot going on at the moment," her tone lost its rough edge, "With Shelby and Puck and Beth." Other emotions were worming their way in, and her mind was being trapped in the same confliction it had been since her prior discussion with Shelby.
A conjecture with a pleading inflection brought her back, "I do not think it is a good idea to expose their relationship, even though it is gross and unprofessional. You must think what is best for Beth!" Her eyebrows were knitted together in an expression that reminded Quinn of a begging dog.
Anger was boiling inside of her again. A familiar occurrence as of late and now it had rose to the point where her entire body was being devoured in it. How could she know? How could she possible understand the reasons why? Quinn rolled her eyes as the girl continued to rant about the immortalities of what Puck and her birth mother were doing, but how much Quinn would regret telling.
"I don't know what I'm going to do right now Rachel." She didn't sound vulnerable, just stately, that left Rachel with no reassurance. There was a silence, and Quinn instantly knew that she had interpreted it as an application to more than one thing.
"Shelby could lose her job, and it would completely destroy your relationship with Puck." Her hands left the position on the bottom of her dress to clasp in front of her with fingers interlocked. "Something like that changes things, and makes it difficult to revert back to normal."
Quinn felt like the latter part was not about the Shelby situation. She had apparently not made her rejection clear enough, because Rachel was still standing their waiting for an answer. Her mouth curled in disgust. How did someone who was bullied to the point of what should be tears be standing here confessing this?
She opened her mouth to speak again, but the blaring noise of the loud speaker interrupted her.
The dull voice of some great birthday clown (who Quinn thought was a rather idiotic choice for a judge) was announcing for all performers to return to the stage for the results. A mass of Glee clubbers filed out of the classrooms and the eruption of noise drowned whatever Quinn could say.
Finn looked absolutely delighted to see his girlfriend standing in the hallway, not even acknowledging the odd occurrence of the two standing together alone. He would brush it off as girl bonding, if he even thought about the event after. He wrapped an arm around Rachel's waist, and Quinn was swept up in the crowd and cheers.
The two exchanged one last look. Quinn over her shoulder as she walked next to a chattering Tina and Mike, and Rachel pressed against Finn's chest. It could've meant a lot of things, but neither of them knew specifically.
For Rachel it meant that Quinn was considering an answer. For Quinn it meant a clear rejection. However, there was one thing both of their minds agreed on.
Quinn should've been shell-shocked, and repulsed to an extreme extent. But yet, she wasn't. Why, why in the world was that?
They two didn't talk. Or rather they didn't have an opportunity to talk.
Mr. Schue had ushered them back to his apartment for a congratulatory party. Apparently, he had been suspecting or incredibly hopeful of their win, because the apartment was completely decked in decoration. Streamers hung from his ceiling, and a banner stretched across the couch with blocky letter writing that read, 'Congratulations New Directions!"
Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester both had tears welled up in their eyes. The group tripped over their own feet to embrace each other. Normally Quinn would not think anything of Rachel next to her engaging in the same huddle like group hug. Well there may be a hint of annoyance and a bit of disgust in the past, but usually it was nothing.
For some reason even though she was squished between Puck's broad chest and Finn's large arm was wrapped around her shoulders, Quinn was more aware of the very minimum amount her and Rachel were touching. Her bare legs were hardly brushing against Quinn's nylons, and the skirts of their clothing collided when everyone pressed closer together.
She briefly wondered if it was during one of these, where their breaths were mingling, limbs coming in contact, and happiness racing through their hearts that Rachel first felt it. The attraction she was ranting about before. Quinn had been told she was pretty, more than once, even if Sam for some unbelievable reason shot her down, she still knew he thought she was pretty.
Is that what Rachel also believed?
They all pulled away from each other. They were laughing and giggling and repeating words of how much they loved life at the moment. Quinn looked over to Finn. He had his arm around his girlfriend and pressed a kiss that spread into a grin on the top of her head. Rachel leaned into him. Her face almost reaching his bicep and her cheek pressed against his chest.
She certainly looked as if she was pleased to be within his arms. As she should, after how she had persistently fought for him over the past years.
Rachel was laughing at something Finn said. Quinn's cherry red lips were in their own small smile of joy from the previous events. Then they made eye contact. They both knew they weren't directing their grins at each other; they weren't being that friendly with one another, it was something else that was making them both laugh and cheer.
Still, Rachel's delighted face struck a chord with Quinn, and both quickly looked away.
The party settled down. The only other dramatic event of the evening was their phone call to the Troubletones with an offer to join them. Mercedes had responded with a 'Hell No' in her are-you-freaking-kidding-me voice. Santana had told Finn that they should really be celebrating he didn't roll off the stage, and that she thought she may puke from being near him and his midget girlfriend who would only have a future of having kids that would be shoved into lockers for the combination of their Pillsbury Doughboy flab, and elf height'.
Quinn usually found Santana's insults amusing in a bitter, jaded sort of way.
They protested and offered multiple reasons why they should join them, but they were answered with yelling in Spanish from Santana followed by Mercedes hanging up the phone.
It didn't go on far into the night. They did have school tomorrow after all, and this party was being supervised by two teachers. They sent them home early. There wasn't too many grumbles or groans; they were still too high on winning to complain.
Quinn chose to drive home on her own. Usually she would've accepted Puck's offer, but the smirk that tugged at his mouth and the way he stared at her with such intensity meant that he wanted-something. Rachel was being escorted by Finn home. God knows what the two of them were doing, the very thought made her nauseas.
She was over Finn, he had made his decision; there was no reason for her to pursue him or have any sort of lingering feelings towards him. Why was it though that she couldn't wrap her head around that the two were together?
She stopped walking. Of course, Quinn really didn't like to lose.
Her car was only a few feet away from her. She had parked a ways away because of the multitude of vehicles. The night had settled in early, and the sky was almost completely dark except for the few stars that had begun to expose themselves.
She pressed her finger tips to the side of her head next to her throbbing temples. She shook her head as if trying to shoo away any other further thoughts. This is ridiculous, I simply haven't been able to…properly talk about this.
The quiet clicks of her heels were the only noises of the street. The other members were lingering at their cars and had yet to leave. It was easy to hear the running footsteps chasing after her. She knew who they belonged to before she turned around.
"Quinn!"
Rachel stood seven feet away from her. The dark color of her dress blended in with the night, but the white layer at the top stood out shockingly under the luminance of the street light. She was as dramatic as ever, and demanded attention in her short stature and determined eyes.
"You let the Troubletones perform…does this mean that you're not going to say anything about Shelby and Puck?"
She sighed, "Has anyone ever told you, you are incredibly meddling?"
Rachel gave a short confirming nod, "Yes, but I prefer to think of it as naturally inquisitive."
Quinn couldn't stop her lips from turning up into a smile, "That's one way to phrase it."
The calls of their friends drew near. Rachel shuffled through the autumn leaves falling from the tree branching over them closer to Quinn in order to whisper, "But do you think you're going to tell about them?" Even her murmurs were loud, and seemed to echo in the neighborhood street.
Then when it went another millisecond (which was a lifetime in Rachel Berry time) she asked her next question, "And what about the earlier discussion today? Not that I am provoking you to define how you reacted to it now, it's just while I have many virtues and admirable qualities, patience regrettably is not one of them."
Quinn said the first thing that came to mind, "Right now, I'm going to…hold on to being seventeen."
It wasn't really an answer. Quinn wasn't exactly sure what she meant by it, but for some reason it left her with a sense of satisfaction. The matter was still not solved, it hadn't even begun to be solved, but that phrase that she had been able to say aloud quelled a certain part of her.
At some point, she would have to elaborate, or give a more definitive reply.
But right now, she was seventeen, she was a senior, and she wasn't going to worry.
That feeling quickly dissolved. Now that she had inwardly settled the debate with Shelby and Puck fiasco she was left completely alone to her other thoughts.
Shock could finally settle in.
She paced in her room. The walls had been painted back to their cream after she had 'reformed' from her previous rebellion. It screamed good little Christian girl; the image that she had reinvented in order to reclaim her child. What was she supposed to do about this?
The old Quinn would easily use this as an opportunity to publically ruin Rachel, and steal Finn back. But that was old Quinn; the Quinn that hadn't been through child birth and had to spend the excruciating amount of time losing pregnancy fat.
Plus, Rachel had developed a following of people who could be referred to as friends. She knew that Kurt would use every power of gay against her if she destroyed her like that. Breaking apart the Glee club would do her no use now.
She decided to call up the only person she could think of.
"Wow, Quinn Fabray, what a rare call. The only thing I can think of is if your preggo again and want to stop me from telling anyone that your V got hit up with man juice, before I figured it out."
Santana and Quinn were sort of friends. Frenemies. They held a mutual respect for each other that did not need to be titled.
"I'm not pregnant Santana." She stopped walking and sat down on her bed. The ivory and gold covers were rumpled to one side, and the trim scraped against the carpeted floor.
"Then what is it? Because I have a lot of better things to do than talk to some member of a mediocre club that somehow tricked the pathetic judges into letting them win."
Unlike Finn, or mostly anyone, Quinn let the insults brush off her. It wasn't that she chose not to fight back. The unaffected calm tone of her voice was enough of a jab.
"If a girl confessed to you, what would you do?"
There was silence for around a minute. Then Santana snorted. "Are you asking for advice? Because there may be some difference between us that could affect that answer significantly." She emphasized the last part with a lisp of her tongue.
Quinn rolled her eyes, "I meant before you knew."
"I would probably end up banging her and then never calling her back." She replied, bluntly and with no hint of shame. "But I had hooked up with Brit before I was out, so I knew there was some lesbo in my lady loins before then."
Then before Quinn could say anything, Santana was laughing. "Wait, wait, do you think that you're into vadges? Because that's just damn funny."
"I do not like girls," She bit her tongue at how defensive that sounded, "I'm just not sure the appropriate way to respond."
"Do you want to fuck her?"
"No." Quinn answered immediately.
"Well then just shoot her down. I mean she's got to be pretty ballsy to go after you in the first place."
Quinn bit her lip. There was a delicate balance of information with Santana. Just a little too much would lead to her jumping to conclusions, usually accurate conclusions, and she did not need Santana to be sending her those smirking knowing stares in the hallway.
Right now, she could deny this. If anything further was to be unveiled than it would become progressively harder to.
"It's not exactly as simple as that." She retorted strongly.
Santana clicked her tongue, "The Fabray I know, would dump this girl on her ass faster than she could say dyke….Unless it's someone we know."
She could picture Santana's expression. The corner of her mouth lifted to one side, and her dark eyebrows arched downwards. If she was sitting, her legs would be crossed and she would be leaning backwards in the chair as if she had the world within her grasp.
"I didn't call to say who," She stood up off her bed and fiddled with scattered items on her desk, "and I have no intention of telling you who."
"Frigid bitch," Santana answered nonchalantly, "Well obviously if you've been thinking about this hard enough some part of you wants to screw her."
Quinn hung up the phone.
One the other end Santana was thoroughly intrigued with the current information. Brittany walked out of the bathroom in one of Santana's long button up shirts and joined her sitting on the bed.
"Who was that?" She inquired in her dazed dreamy way.
"Someone who may be considering a team switch." She placed her phone back on the night stand table.
"Oh, I didn't know you liked sports. Unless it's like a team of animals. Like a team of unicorns." She responded affirmatively.
Santana laughed, before leaning over and planting a kiss on her cheek.
Quinn sat with her legs crossed and hands folded in her lap in the navy blue chair of the councilor's office. Any moment, she knew Rachel would be coming in through those glass doors to speak about catching up on her school work from her suspension.
She was right. Rachel slid into the room, and with a jaded voice started, "Well my suspension is officially over." She shut the thick door behind her. "But it will still be on my transcript though." She stopped in front of the identical chair next to Quinn and crossed her arms over her black three quarter length sleeved shirt. She continued her into her agitated speech, "I'm just hoping the admission apartment at NYADA see it as a sign of my artistic rebellious attitude." Her eyes rolled at the last few words.
Quinn couldn't stop the smile from her face as the girl raved. She rose to her feet once she finished, "Good luck with that." She smoothed out any wrinkles on her white dress.
The councilor used her intuition from years of training, and left the two girls alone.
Rachel's voice turned more serious and softer than before. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the woman had left before continuing, "Are you going to go tell Figgins about Shelby? I just," Her eyes focused on the ground, "I think it's a really terrible idea."
Quinn's kept her words punctual and her stare steadied on Rachel, "I came here to talk to you, actually."
Rachel's eyes darted up from the ground to Quinn. There were so many emotions and questions riding on her gaze, that Quinn knew she should quickly clarify before the girl burst. She shook her head with a small shift, "To tell you I'm not going to tell". Her smile remained unchanging.
Rachel's eyes widened and her mouth opened agape in surprise. "Why?" She was shocked speechless.
"Because I love Beth, and I don't want to ruin her life." She nodded in confirmation, "I wanted to thank you actually."
If it was even possible Rachel's surprised face became more shocked. Not only that but it was combined with puzzlement, and misunderstandings. She blinked long eye lashes furiously and Quinn knew there were other thoughts flickering across the surface of her brain. "For what?"
"For keeping me from doing something stupid." She stated concisely, "Something I would have regretted my entire life."
Quinn could see liquid brimming on the bottom lids of her eyes, and she closed them to keep them from spilling. Her head tilted down and her glossed lips widened into a smile. Her voice was shaky whether with laughter or on the brink of tears, "We're kind of friends aren't we?"
Quinn wasn't sure if by the way her head tilted to the side and top teeth showed, if she was asking something else than just that question.
She returned her expression, "Kind of."
Rachel was still smiling, and halfly nodding back in return. Quinn used the dark wooden handles to ease herself back down into the seat with her legs back crossed.
"What do you think about Yale?" She bounced when she landed and her hands reconnected in her lap.
"Oh no I-I have my sights set on NYADA." Rachel pulled her own skirt under her to sit down. Quinn had noticed that the girl's style had improved since the first time they met. Sure, there was the occasional reindeer sweater here and there, but she had been dressing near acceptably for awhile.
Her skirt was tri-colored. The first stripe was yellow matched her beret hat nicely, the second a light grey that complimented her shoes, and the last a black that, mirrored her shirt. She had improved.
"No, for me."
Rachel turned towards her with her usual intensive look.
"I'm not the singer you and Kurt are, but Yale has an amazing drama program."
Rachel nodded and her lips lifted again.
"But I really do like to perform."
Rachel's expression read that it was the most amazing idea she had ever heard. Even though she wasn't jumping up and down, Quinn could tell by the way her eyes quivered, and could barely speak, was better than any lengthy speech. "Y-yeah."
"I'd definitely nail all the parts where the girl has to cry." Her laugh was breathy and filled with sad humor.
Rachel had turned ninety degrees to face Quinn. She was barely on her seat now, most of her was slid to the side. She returned with a similar giggle that scrunched her eyes up, and made the aura in the room a little brighter. "I think it's a great idea!"
She gestured to herself by pressing her sprawled fingers with long white nails to her upper chest. "I mean especially since you wouldn't have me to compete with."
A year ago, Quinn would've wanted to take a swipe at Rachel's face for a comment like that. Instead it just stirred amusement in her.
Than in a sincere voice that was laced with other meanings, "You're a lot better than you think."
The councilor entered again before the conversation could continue in any other direction. She sent Quinn a glare over the rim of her glasses. Quinn could take a hint, and stood up on her heels, "I'll see you at Glee Club."
Rachel's words came out panicked, "Wait Wait wh-where you going?"
She bent one knee, and relaxed her stance, "I've got a couple people I need to talk to."
Rachel continued her offers. "Okay well," She shrugged and twined her fingers together in front of her waist band and twisted them back and forth. She stuck her bottom lip out, "I don't know if you need help with your Yale application-"
"Not with my Yale application, but um," She took an intake of air, "there is something you could do for me."
For a second when Rachel stared at her with a look of total obedience Quinn felt a zing of something zap through her. It was the way Rachel's shoulders were squared and her mouth was pressed shut in full attention.
Then Quinn told her the plan. Her outburst was enough for the councilor to order them to discuss it outside of her office, and with a few conditional requirements that would limit but not cease her 'natural star ability' she agreed. And when she did, Quinn felt the warmth of bliss and confidence. Something about having Rachel Berry supporting her was enough to fill her with assurance.
That and the way the girl looked at her before as if she would do anything Quinn requested, made a certain feeling wrestle up from the pit of her stomach. Her mind traced back to what Santana said and-
She stopped her thoughts from furthering into something. Actually she was horrified at where they were leading. They were friends. Not even that, they were kind of friends.
Quinn wondered what the kind of could stand for.
If one thing could really convince the Troubletones to return to New Directions was one thing-a blow out party. Sure, Mr. Schuester's was nice, but not somewhere where they could engage in…illicit activities. Well only drinking and some sexual escapades were allowed in the Berry house. They mostly had learned their limits on the former.
Her dads had agreed to give them the entire house for the night. Quinn wasn't sure how she convinced them so quickly and with such ease, but she did.
That evening they all met downstairs in the Berry's Oscar room. She had only been in here once before and even then it was a very fuzzy memory. The furniture was decorative and modern. The island counter to the left of the room had a display of beverages and food on them.
The members were spread out across the room, some were on the stools, and others were on the leather couches and seats. Santana's hysterics were balanced out by the fact that Brittany was removing her clothing. Tina and Mercedes were laughing at something Damian had said(probably just his accent) and he blushed with such attention.
Kurt was keeping a keen eye on Blaine who had a tendency to confuse his sexual orientation while under the influence. He was keeping enough distance between him and Rachel as physically possible. Now Rachel didn't look completely wasted.
Completely being the key word in that sentence. She did look like she had been drinking too much, because she was swaying back and forth with wobbly knees.
Quinn, had a tendency to get…infuriated when she drank too much. Not only that, but when she had gone through her Skankss phase she had also discovered that she had a tendency to do irrational things. She was an angry, irrational drunk, that really shouldn't have been downing as much vodka as she had been.
But hell, it was her senior year; life for the majority was getting better. There was that matter of Rachel, but that could be dealt with easily. In fact she could take care of it right now if she wanted to.
Finn was passed out on the stage. His limbs took up the entire mass of it and onto the floor. Rachel was speaking flirty with Blaine and with Kurt wedged in between them.
Quinn had enough alcohol in her system to be able to slide across the room with her worries residing somewhere far in the back of her mind. If there was any time to let someone down was when they both had too much alcohol to have a huge effect.
Or maybe it would, but either way she was getting this over with now, before Santana started continuing her comments from earlier about how she could give Quinn tips on how to properly lick. It was a topic she was not willing to discuss with her, especially with Brittany also in the presence.
Rachel had changed from her school clothing. She was still dressed in a classic Berry outfit. An ocean blue skirt decorated with tiny magenta and lavender flowers. A white polo shirt was hidden under the looser v-neck purple one, and knee socks had slipped down to her calves from all of the motion.
One of Kurt's hands was placed on the sleeve of his boyfriend's burgundy cardigan and the other on Rachel's shoulder. He breathed a sigh of relief when Quinn approached them. It was much easier to keep the two apart if another person was added to their trio.
"Quinn, I haven't seen you much tonight." Kurt commented, directing the conversation away from Blaine and Rachel's battle of star-crossed Broadway lovers.
Quinn's lips were painted a raspberry color, and they showed off a row of white teeth when she smiled. She folded her hands in front of the yoke-yellow waistband of her dress.
"I've been making sure that Santana and Brittany are keeping things appropriate for the…Berry household standards."
Rachel's cheeks were flushed and they turned a vermillion red when she indignantly yelled "Brittany better not be removing any articles of clothing. I do not want a repetition of what happened last time!" She quickly pulled away from the two and started to march towards them when Quinn's fingertips caught her forearm.
"Rachel, can we talk?" Quinn's question was at the volume no louder than a whisper. But both Kurt and Blaine had overheard it, and their full attention was caught on the next interaction.
Rachel snapped her head back around. Brown straight hair went flying into her face, when she nodded in the same action.
"Yes. Sure?" Her bemusement was undisguised when her pitch rose towards the end. The two boys exchanged raised eyebrow glances.
She led Rachel through the room. She had begun to babble about something-Quinn wasn't listening and the way her words were slurring together made it difficult to distinguish even with Rachel's actress's enunciation.
Quinn thought of a lot of ways to deny Rachel. They were all very quick and there would leave no room for misconceptions. She had the plan plotted out in her head when she urged Rachel into the bathroom. She would find it ironically humorous how all of their serious conversations tend to happen in restrooms, but she wasn't thinking about that right now.
In fact Quinn's mind had gone completely blank. Almost immediately as the door handle had clicked shut and she took in the sight of the overly decorated room; all of her plans had disappeared.
The slate stone walls seemed to be closer than she last remembered, and Rachel, Rachel was radiating off some sort of drunken heat that as soon she leaned against the counter sink intoxicated the room.
She had this dopey, wide, smile on her face and she hiccupped in between her words, "What'd ya wanna talk about?"
Quinn's response was lost. Her brain signals of telling her what to do were coming across as completely incoherent.
"Ya know, I think it's a really good thing you didn't tell Shelby. That would've hurt everyone and…"
Does she every shut up? Quinn could feel the familiar surge of anger the combination of vodka and cherry juice sent through her. It was uncontrollable; even all the time she spent getting wasted with the Skanks, sooner or later her natural self would rear its ugly head.
Rachel on the other hand was just rambling away, and Quinn felt the need to either slap her or or-
Contrary to what people say, when you're not thinking you tend to move faster. Or at least for Quinn that was the case. She moved so quickly, that she almost stumbled in her tan heels and the one of the thin straps of her azure dress fell down to the slanted bone of her shoulder.
Quinn had had many first kisses.
With Rachel, it was awkward. Their chins clashed, forehead bumped, noses collided, and mouths brushed past each other that smeared lip stick on the opposite cheeks.
The second was better.
The third was even more.
But the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and everyone after were the best kisses Quinn had ever experienced.
With half of her body leaned over the porcelain counter top, and Rachel's back hitting the mirror, it wasn't the easiest position. It was difficult to balance, and they had to keep a stern grip on each other and the counter to keep from falling.
Quinn thought that maybe she was too busy thinking about that to realize anything else. She should've been thinking about a lot of other things. One major was to stop, and that this was completely wrong.
But for some reason the word 'stop' wasn't going through her mind. There were no particular coherent phrases that she was associating with her actions, except for the faint lyric playing in the back of her head.
Tonight, we are young.
Is this story about subtext entirely? Yes. Yes it is.
Please review and lemme know what you think, I'm very nervous about this one 'ere.