Disclaimer: I don't own the characters just their thoughts and actions.
I didn't mean to fall asleep. I completely blame my exhaustion on the plane ride back to Lima, where Kurt was unsuccessful in his attempts to be discreet while he mused whether Blaine would have a date or not. Meanwhile, Santana complained that though she would be the hottest one in attendance she would be shamefully dateless as she refused to accept our offer, stating she'd rather slit her neck with one of the razor blades in her hair than go on a triple date with the Hummelberry twins.
Of course then there was the stress of the failed wedding that everyone had gathered back in Ohio for, which probably added to my exhaustion. Along with seeing my ex-boyfriend, where our conversations were seemingly repetitive and again exhausting. Add that to sleeping with my ex-boyfriend, which was meant to spark the ever flickering flame in my heart and yet was unsatisfying and inexplicably exhausting. The whole ordeal was just…exhausting.
Naturally I didn't mean to fall asleep next to Finn, when I felt more at home thousands of miles away than I did lying in his arms. I certainly didn't want to give him the wrong idea, especially since last night was rather anti-climatic on my end. The spark couldn't be ignited and I finally felt that maybe it had blown out once and for all. But I definitely did not want to break that revelation to Finn right now and face the awkward morning after, wherein he would predictably try to tell me why we are meant for each other. Although this sort of conversation should probably be done face to face, I will admit that my main concern at the moment is getting as far away from this hotel as possible. Then I can formulate a plan for confronting Finn and explaining why what happened last night was a mistake. But first I need to get out of bed without waking him.
His arm lies lightly on my lower back as I lay stomach down on the bed, my head facing the outer edge and when I open my eyes, I can barely make out the first rays of light trying to peek through our closed curtain. Fortunately, Finn has always been a heavy sleeper so I'm quite positive I can sneak out while he remains peacefully asleep. I turn my head to take one last look at him, just to convince myself I am making the right decision. What I see, or rather who, causes an inadvertent squeak to come out of my mouth.
Lying in bed next to me with her arm slung carelessly on my back is Quinn Fabray. The sheets are covering enough (or hardly anything at all) for me to know that she is undoubtedly naked.
I am in bed with Quinn Fabray.
And she is naked.
I stare at the frown and scrunched eyebrows over closed lids that appeared on her face from my short squeal, when the whole absurdity of the scenario finally hits me. I frantically roll away, falling off the side of the bed, all efforts of stealth completely forgotten. There's a moan coming from the bed, which sounds entirely inappropriate for situation I am in and the lack of clothing my friend is wearing.
A head appears over the side of the bed, "You okay down there?" Quinn asks. Her hair is mussed and sticking out all over the place, but I can't decide if it is adorable or sexy. A smirk forms on her face when I don't respond immediately and from my position on the floor with her looking down at me like that, it's definitely sexy. I decide to file that thought away for further analysis at a more appropriate time.
I slowly push myself onto my feet as my brain is flooded with questions. How did she get in my room? Where is Finn? Does she always look this good in the morning? But the only question I manage to squeak out is, "Why are you naked?"
If Quinn is affronted by my question she hides it well, there is merely a slight lift in her right eyebrow before she replies, "Well after we made it a five-time thing, I was a bit too tired to put my clothes back on." She slowly drags her eyes down my body before darting them back to my eyes, "Apparently so were you."
I gasp at her accusation knowing full well I put my negligée back on after Finn and I had finished because no matter how much confidence I may have in myself, I hate being completely exposed for any length of time longer than absolutely necessary. However when I glance down at my body to prove her false, I find that Quinn's statement is in fact accurate.
Looking down, I see finger and toe nails both different colors than I remember, skin a few shades darker than my own, a heart shaped tattoo near my right hip bone that I don't remember getting, and a pair of breasts that grew nearly two cup-sizes overnight. Not only am I naked, but apparently I'm not actually me. It's not hard to guess based off of their drinking and dancing together all night, but one glance in the mirror on the sidewall confirms my thoughts; I am in the body of one Santana Lopez.
It's quite simple to deduce what happened here last night. Although how I came to arrive in Santana's body is alarmingly mysterious, there are far more important concerns to be address. Like the fact that Quinn and Santana had sex. With each other. And apparently multiple times. Santana's actions don't surprise me in the least, but it's the 'Quinn' of it all that has me thrown through a loop. Quinn slow danced with a girl. Then left the reception holding hands with a girl. Then apparently got naked with a girl. Then had sex with a girl.
"So you're gay?" I blurt out without enough consideration to phrase my question in a more appropriate way. Quinn's eyes harden for an instant before her face relaxes and she lets off a short laugh.
"Just because we," she makes an unintelligible hand gesture to explain herself, "you know," it's all sorts of adorable that she blushes as she can't even say the word sex, "multiple times, doesn't make me gay Santana. Contrary to your belief, you are not the lesbian whisperer."
Quinn's non-answer brush off and harmless insult to her friend gives me the impression that she wasn't taking my question seriously. Perhaps she already discussed her sexual orientation with Santana, which would make sense seeing as Santana would be the most logical choice for Quinn to confide in about her newfound attraction to the fairer sex. And yet I still feel as if there is something missing. It just doesn't make any sense; Quinn has never even shown interest in women before.
"Right, of course not," I reply. Quinn stares at me with her eyebrows scrunched again and I wonder what she is trying to figure out. It feels like she is trying to get a read on me and I realize that she thinks I'm Santana, which means I need to act like Santana. Our quick-witted friend would never simply accept an insult whether it was playful or not. Unfortunately I don't have a running monologue of inappropriate words, nicknames, and insults at my disposal even if I'm in her body.
"I'm just confused," slips off my tongue before I can catch it, which really could sum up my whole situation. However from Quinn's perspective, I can understand why her eyes narrow into a glare.
"You're confused? How the hell do you think I feel?" She asks back with a fierceness of barely contained anger. She pulls the sheets tighter around her so that the only skin showing is from shoulder up, while I still stand at the side of the bed completely bare (although Santana never did seem like one for modesty so perhaps I am at least in character for one aspect of this exchange).
"Okay so you're not gay, you're just confused?" The glare Quinn shoots me is enough to let me know I should have kept my mouth shut.
"What the hell Santana? You said," she points directly at me as she gets out of the bed with the sheet wrapped around her, "that I didn't have to worry, that it wouldn't be awkward or different between us." She walks over to the chair where her dress is strewn carelessly over the arm. I know I should look away when she drops the sheet, but I can't tear my eyes away from the expanse of bare skin that is exposed while her back is turned to me. Quinn quickly slips on her dress before pivoting and positioning her hands on her hips, her ever prominent battle pose.
"You of all people should know what it's like. Yet here we are the morning after and you're giving me the Spanish Inquisition. So glad I could trust you as much as my other sexual partners," Quinn sneers as she strides over to the desk to grab her purse.
I know I should speak up for Santana, since I'm almost positive I am failing this acting exercise. Santana would have been more likely to wake up and engage in another round with Quinn as opposed to falling out of bed and getting into an argument over the gender preferences of her best friend. Unfortunately instead of coming to Santana's defense, all I can think of is: who else has Quinn slept with besides Noah, and well now Santana? Quinn is halfway to the door and I know I'm a second away from completely ruining their friendship, when I get saved by the bell. Or more accurately the blaring of Bootylicious from someone's phone.
Quinn stops mid-stride and turns to face me, she fully dressed ready to leave this supposedly sham of a friendship, me still naked standing on the side of the bed completely unaware of how to repair the damage without proper background information on the two's seemingly complicated history.
"You going to get that?" She asks, letting me know that it's Santana's phone that's going off. I only need to take half a step to reach the nightstand where the phone lays. When I read the name that appears on the screen I'm not sure whether to laugh or be offended that Santana has my personal ringtone set to Bootylicious. On the positive side, unless for some weird reason there are two of me running around the hotel, Santana may have figured out that I'm in her body. And no doubt she must be having a fit about being stuck mine. I hit the ignore button, knowing there is a more urgent issue to deal with.
"Brittany?" Quinn asks in a neutral tone. I can't tell if there is anything underlying in the question and like usual, her face gives away nothing.
"No, Berry," I reply feeling weird using my last name without my first, but knowing it is the least insulting yet still acceptable name Santana would use. Quinn's eyes widen before she quickly composes herself and gives a curt nod. Apparently it's typical for Santana to ignore my calls, which I put that on my mental list to bring up to her at our next family loft meeting. Quinn turns to finish her exit from the room, but hesitates from actually moving forward. Her shoulders drop slowly as she lets out a deep breath before continuing her turn, making it a full circle. I think Santana would tell her that move made her look like a complete idiot, but knowing I've screwed up enough for one morning I decide to stay quiet.
"Is this about what I said?" She asks while eyeing the floor. She slowly raises her head when I don't immediately respond, "You know, during." Quinn still hasn't made eye contact, but at least she's speaking to me and not the carpet. I have no idea what she said, but it's obvious that she's either ashamed or nervous about whatever it was. What could Quinn have possibly said during sex that would make her act this way? Perhaps in the heat of the moment, she had a slip of the tongue and said something that she never meant to escape her lips. Everyone knows the three-word phrase that often spills out unintentionally during the throws of passion.
"I already apologized last night," Quinn interrupts my internal musing. I nod quickly, thinking Santana accepted the apology or else she wouldn't have stayed in bed with Quinn all night. The only logical explanation is that Quinn said she loved Santana. However, Santana must not have returned the statement, thus most likely does not feel the same way. Shocking, yet definitely plausible given recent events.
"I mean I thought we were on the same page. You seemed fine about it last night, so I didn't think you would be so weird this morning. Especially since we both know you were thinking in similar fashion even if you didn't say it out loud." Holy crap, this definitely thwarts my previous hypothesis. So Santana does love her back! Quinn and Santana are in love… with each other. No offense to Santana, but Quinn can definitely do better than her. Maybe I should tell her that; is that something a believable 'in love Santana' would say? I have no clue, but I do know I can at least try to mend this situation.
"You're right," I reply. Quinn tilts her head, no doubt at my concession. "I know it rarely happens," I throw in hoping to at least up my acting performance to B material. I glance down and bite my lip, a practice most individuals do when they are nervous, "but you were right about the last part. I had to bite my tongue to not say anything, pretty sure I bled." I hope I didn't take it too far, but the sad smile on Quinn's face tells me that my lines were given with perfection and the audience bought them.
"Yeah," she sighs out crossing the room to sit on the end of the bed. Thinking I may have somewhat repaired the damages I caused, I sit sideways on my legs, my body facing her as she stares at our blank television screen. I'm hoping that Quinn's indifference to my state of undress is due to seeing Santana naked multiple times in the locker room over their shared Cheerios' career and not because she has seen Santana in this form for other reasons. Either way, I've decided that modesty is much less important when you're in someone else's body.
"About this morning, I didn't mean to-" I start before I get cut off.
"Don't worry about it," she says still looking straight ahead. Her profile is even more beautiful when I can look at her without worrying how she will feel about my visual exploration. Quinn continues, "I obviously get it." She lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. I secretly urge her to explain herself and she unknowingly fulfills my wish.
"It really does suck seeing them here with other people." Seeing whom here? With what other people? I'm trying to think of the best way to ask while still maintaining that I know what Quinn is talking about, when a loud pounding comes from our door.
"Gay Berry, I know you're in there! Get your tiny ass off the hot blonde and open the door afores I knock it down myself!" My voice rings through the room, the door doing little to tone down the belting Santana is using. I'll be surprised if she didn't at least try to run a few scales just so she could appreciate my vocal range whilst in my body. I hop off the bed and nearly sprint into the door in my haste to open it before Santana attracts any attention.
"Put some clothes on!" Quinn snaps as she scurries behind me, but I've already opened the door and pulled Santana inside.
"Rachel, wha- what are you doing here?" Quinn asks as Santana's eyes roam me appreciatively. I don't know why, it's not like she's never seen her own body naked. Quinn shuffles awkwardly from her left foot to right when Santana doesn't answer.
"It's not what you think, Rachel," she says as she grabs a hotel robe from the closet and throws it at my face. I miraculously catch it, wondering why Quinn doesn't want me to know that she and Santana slept together. It's hard to imagine that she would be embarrassed as Santana is quite an attractive woman and with my background she knows I'm tolerant of all types of people.
As I begin to slip on the robe Santana finally pitches into the conversation, "Don't bother," she says to me, "nothing I haven't already seen." She winks before turning her attention to Quinn who has her mouth gaped open.
"She's seen you naked?" she squeaks out in a flustered voice as she shoots me a glare in accusation. Santana opens her mouth to reply, but I step in between them, robe fully on and ready to take charge of the situation before Santana ruins my friendship with Quinn.
"One bathroom in the loft, and you know how I like to air dry," I state. Santana is doing a poor job of looking as uncomfortable as I would have been had that situation actually occurred, but fortunately Quinn accepts this answer.
I add on, "The more important question is when did Gay Berry start referring to herself in the third person?" I shoot Santana an admonishing look. "With an ego that big, it's hard to imagine how I was able to yank your inflated head through the door." I wince at my own self-deprecation, but the small smirk that arrives on Santana's, or more accurately my, face shows that I'm finally getting the hang of her insults, at least when they are directed towards me.
A slap on my bicep shows that my other friend is not as happy with the comment.
"Santana!" Quinn harshly reprimands me. What is it with Quinn and slapping? Although, I can't help the slight smile that forms on my lips from her coming to my defense.
"It's fine Quinn," Santana replies. I can't help but to be pleased that her name rolls off my tongue just as nicely from a third-party standpoint as it does when I'm in my own body. "After all, without Santana's continuous constructive criticism," I roll my eyes at the blatant exaggeration, "I would never have made it to New York and be well on my way to my inevitablestardom." Santana adds a smug smile and though I want to praise her on the accurately verbose word choices, she definitely overplayed my confidence while portraying herself in a much better light than I would have.
Santana glances over at Quinn before smirking at me and continuing, "Of course had I listened to Santana, I would never have woken up in bed this morning with my lousy ex-boyfriend after what was no doubt-" I grab Santana by the arm and pull her out of the room while talking over her to Quinn as we exit the room.
"Berry needs her morning coffee, be back in a minute," I say over my shoulder before the door shuts.
" – a God awful, vomit inducing, eye burning sexcapade you two had last night. Seriously Berry, what the hell were you thinking?" Santana finishes as I escort her down the hallway. Fortunately, her body is stronger than mine and the task is much easier than I had expected.
"I could ask you the same thing. You and Quinn?" By the time we reach the stairs, she's able to yank her arm out of my grasp and I let it go as we begin to descend.
"Oh please, you definitely got the better deal out this. I woke up with a still sweaty giant half on top of me, crushing my no longer voluptuous twins. I thought for sure it was a nightmare from sophomore year only to find out I'm in a completely different nightmare of being stuck in your body. Still haven't decided which one is worse." We reach the bottom of the stairs and head through the lobby to the continental breakfast where the coffee machine is calling my name.
"What I do with Finn is frankly none of your business," I state as I grab a cup. "But Quinn is my friend, and if you intend on dating her I expect you to treat her right or I will-"
"Whoa there," Santana interrupts grabbing two cups, "who said anything about dating? We just had sex. Really great, really hot, sex." She adds with a self-satisfied smile. My stomach coils at her words and the casualness of her thoughts on what happened.
"Right. Still playing by the sex isn't dating rule?" I ask, pouring myself some of the hotel's already brewed coffee. Santana doesn't answer as she pours coffee for herself and some into the third cup. She puts a lid on one and leaves the other open, taking a sip out of the unlidded cup.
"I see you have extra caffeine to recover from your late night activities," I state hoping Santana might give me details of what happened between her and Quinn, preferably details on the emotional and mental side, not the physical side. Santana turns her head to look at me as we walk back across the lobby toward the stairs.
"One's for Quinn," she answers plainly as she pushes the lidded cup into my hand. So Santana wants it to look like she brought back coffee for her best friend, but she is still being rather nonchalant about the whole ordeal. Perhaps she doesn't want me to know she has feelings for Quinn. Of course Santana doesn't know, that I already know about the pair's feelings for each other and Quinn's slip of the tongue last night.
After Santana's last failed attempt at forming a relationship with her best friend, perhaps I should at least let her know I support her and am available to give advice. Then of course I can also perform my duties as Quinn's friend and warn Santana about the retributions she will face if she ever hurts Quinn.
"Santana, you don't need to lie to me." I follow her up the stairs as she passes the first landing completely ignoring my words. "I know how you feel about each other," I state louder trying to catch up to her. She pauses on the second landing and turns around to face me.
"What?"
"Quinn told me this morning," I answer and Santana takes a step toward me, her eyes boring into mine.
"What exactly did she say?"
"She simply apologized for what she said last night and alluded to the fact that while you didn't return the sentiment, you felt the same way." Santana comes another step closer essentially closing what little distance was left between us. The coffee cup that she holds tightly in front of her waist serves as the only barrier.
"And what did she say last night?" Santana asks in a low almost threatening whisper. The question causes me to hesitate for a second because Quinn never clearly stated what words were said, but the facts have stacked up heavily to provide evidence for my speculation.
"That she loves you," I reply confidently knowing it is the only plausible option. I don't back down from her gaze nor her presence in my personal space. Santana's eyebrows rise at the statement as she bites her lip.
"And you think I love Quinn too," she looks down into her coffee cup and continues, "but I didn't say it back?"
"Quite obviously that makes sense," I answer as I side step around her so we can continue up the last fight of stairs now that my suspicions have been confirmed. "And now you want me to bring her coffee to show that you care about her. Although I must confess, I don't think it would be right for me to tell her I love her while I'm in your body. It might be best to wait until we switch back." Santana lets out a laugh that sounds more like a bark.
"You have know idea how ironic that statement is," she says as she skips the last step and reaches the floor our rooms are located on. "Living with you is going to be so amusing."
"So we are in agreement that I should give Quinn the coffee, but hold off on the proclamation of love?" Santana rolls her eyes as she holds the door open me.
"Yeah Berry, that sounds like an excellent plan. And once you're done playing a completely pointless game of matchmaker, why don't you put your impressive deductive skills to good use and figure out a way to get me back into my sexy body." We arrive at the room we left Quinn in, but Santana continues to walk down the hall. I grab her arm before she gets out of reach.
"Where are you going?" I whisper intensely unsure if Quinn will be able to hear us through the door.
"Your purse is still in the room with the blubber boy. I hope you didn't plan to wake up snuggling in his arms because that's not happening," she gives me a pointed look as I drop her wrist.
"No, I had all intentions of leaving before he woke up."
"My, my. Miss Rachel Berry doing the walk of shame. I couldn't be prouder," Santana replies with the first genuine smile of the morning. "But seriously, he's not worth it," she adds on.
"I unfortunately came upon that realization last night, and must deal the consequences of said realization. Just try not to wake him, I'd rather deal with that later."
"It's like you read my mind," Santana says and then grimaces, "This is getting creepy. Imma get your stuff and find Britts, she's always been good with supernatural shit." She turns away and heads toward the room I went into last night with Finn. Before she enters the room I have one last question for her.
"Wait!" I whisper yell down the hallway, "Why do you have my ringtone set as Bootylicious?" Santana smirks at me before giving me a wink and shaking her, or I suppose my, butt once as she opened the door.
"You better not be checking out any of my body parts unclothed!" I hiss down the hall, but the door shuts before I finish my sentence while the door to my right creaks open and Quinn's upper body peaks out the doorway.
"Santana?" She questions as I turn to meet her gaze. "Who are you talking to?" There is clearly no one else in the hall anymore, but I refuse to let Quinn think I was standing outside the door mumbling like an idiot. That in no way would help Santana be in Quinn's good books and progress their blooming relationship.
"Just giving Berry some advice on how to execute a stealthy walk of shame," I reply as I gesture towards the doorway, both hands filled with coffee cups. Quinn gets the hint and opens the door all the way so I can enter.
"Knowing her, it will probably be more like a stride of pride," Quinn states. Although back in high school that would perhaps have been a rather accurate phrase, I choose to ignore her comment. Instead, I hand her a cup of coffee.
"A peace offering," I say as she takes it from me, "For my crazy ass behavior this morning." She smiles and mumbles a quick thanks before taking a sip and sitting gracefully on the same chair that her dress had been discarded on last night.
While she silently drinks her coffee, I decide to put some actual clothes on and slip into Santana's dress from the wedding. It's a bit too tight for my taste, but I don't have any other options to choose from. I move over to sit on the bed facing Quinn and intend to finish my coffee in silence as I am unsure what Santana would deem an appropriate 'we should start a relationship' conversation.
"What did Rachel want?" Quinn asks so softly that I reply with a quick, "Huh?" before I even try to comprehend what she asked.
"Rachel. What was she banging on our door for earlier? She, um, never actually said what she came to our room for," she replies in explanation.
"Oh just some pointless roomie stuff. I tuned out halfway through the conversation," I answer in what I assume would be a typical Santana response. However in character I should be, I refuse to use improper or vulgar language to the extent that she does. Quinn smiles slightly at my response before shaking her head and downing the rest of her coffee.
"So she slept with him again?" she asks while playing with the empty cup in her hand.
"Unfortunately," I answer honestly. The styrofoam cracks loudly when Quinn pushes the two opposite sides of the lid too close together.
"Figures," she mutters back, squeezing the other sides of the cup until another crack sounds and there are four breaks in the cup's lid. Even though I regret my actions from last night, Quinn's disapproving tone at my decision puts me in a defensive mood.
"She was in love with him. Can you really blame her for getting caught up in the moment?" I send her a pointed look with raised eyebrows.
"Jesus Santana, who's side are you on?" Her voice raised just enough to show that I hit a nerve. She tosses the cracked cup at the trashcan by the wall, and it hits the rim before falling softly right in front of it. Neither of us moves to pick it up.
Quinn exhales and slouches back in the chair much less graceful than her original posture. "And will you please stop bringing that up, I'm done apologizing to you about it," she huffs almost childishly.
"I'm sure you don't want to talk about it and I usually could care less, but you're my best friend and I really think we should. You know, talk," I state then add on, "or whatever," for a more realistic dialogue performance.
"There's really nothing more to say than what's already been said," Quinn replies examining her fingernails as if she is already bored with the conversation.
"Or not said," I add in hoping to keep the discussion moving in the right direction no matter how unhelpful the blonde across from me is being. Quinn's lips curl slightly upward as she looks up from her lap.
"Right, well we don't all have your restraint abilities. Must have been from all those years of hiding in the closet." She throws out the playful jab with a smirk. I have no idea if Santana would take offense to that, but seeing as Quinn seems to think the comment is okay, I let it slide.
"It sucks you were hidden so far in the back that I never found you," I reply, "We could have figured this out so much sooner."
"You just didn't look hard enough," she snaps back with no bite. "Not that I blame you of course. You were rather distracted with your own blonde."
"And now I've got a pretty new blonde." I gesture to Quinn sitting in the armchair in all her glory. Even lounged comfortably in day old clothes and an unfortunate sequined jacket she must have stolen from her mom's closet, the girl still looks impeccable. Of course even in high school I knew that her supposed flaws were much more mental and emotional than they were physical, though I've always believed that 'flaws' were just unique personality traits that made each individual more intriguing.
"Don't you know that you're supposed to flatter the girl before you get into her panties? What kind of lesbian are you?"
"Obviously the best one if I got you," I answer with a wink and Quinn shakes her head with a smile playing on her lips. I'm surprised at my flirtatious banter, but am more than happy to see her so receptive to my words. Maybe Santana and Quinn could make a good couple. A beeping noise comes from Quinn's purse and she digs out her phone before reading the screen.
"It's my mom," she explains as she types out a response, "I promised I'd have lunch with her before heading back to school." I nod in acknowledgement before gathering the rest of Santana's belongings knowing our conversation has come to an abrupt halt, but hopefully not a final ending. I follow Quinn out of the room and down to the main lobby, trying to come up with the best way to bring up a discussion about her and Santana's future.
It isn't until we leave through the front doors of the hotel and head into the parking lot that I realize I have no idea how Santana got to the wedding. I follow Quinn to her mom's car hoping that I can catch a ride with her and then lay some groundwork for her relationship with Santana.
"Do you mind taking me home? My ride totally bailed," I say as we approach the car. Quinn stops pulling the keys out of her purse and turns to me with furrowed eyebrows.
"I was your ride," she replies in a condescending tone that I've heard directed at all of her ex-boyfriends.
"Right. But um yesterday I was talking to Rachel and she was going on about furniture in the loft and some extra chairs she had in her basement that we had to look at to see if they were compatible with the living room style and since I would have to go over there anyway, she said she would just give me a ride to her place but uh then she, you know, ditched Finn this morning and ran off." The lie spills out faster and more extravagant than I intended in order to cover up my mistake. Quinn still has the car keys in one hand as she stares me straight in the eye, squinting as if that will help her to understand what is going on.
"Are you okay?" Quinn asks taking a step towards me. "You've been acting weird all morning and you just said Rachel and Finn's names without an insult or any trace of malice." She reaches her arm out and puts the back of hand on my forehead. Her eyes open wide as she lets out a gasp.
"Just as I expected," she says shaking her head, trying hard to stop the smile from forming on her lips. "After living with Rachel for only a week, she's already started to rub off on you," finishes Quinn with a laugh as she turns away from me. I try to form a reply but Quinn has already unlocked the car and climbed into the driver's side. I let out a sigh and move to the passenger side.
"Should I be worried about a PowerPoint presentation the next time we Skype?" she asks as she turns the engine on.
"Fuck off," I reply in my best impression of Santana, even adding vulgarity to increase the effectiveness, but the statement lacks the bite my roommate would properly give it.
"I can just imagine it," Quinn says with a bright smile on her face, "Ten reasons why Santana Lopez is too good for the New York girls."
"Well that's true." Although Santana has yet to bring any girls home, in the short time she has stayed with us the types of girls she raves about when we go out fall well beneath the standards she should have for herself.
"Or I'm in love with my best friend: how to survive heartbreak and find happiness," Quinn states whimsically.
"What?" I'm not quite sure how that statement applies to Santana unless it was referring to her break up with Brittany back at the beginning of the year. But clearly Brittany had moved on and I was under the impression that Santana had as well. Especially now that she's trying to start something with Quinn.
"You're right, that one probably suits me more," she lets out with a nod of her head as if she's confirming her own thought. "Though the finding happiness is, as always, proving to be difficult."
"Well, it may be closer than you think."
"Oh really?" she asks, doubt evident on her tone. I can tell she's not taking this conversation as serious as I am.
"Come on Quinn, I know you said you didn't want to talk about this, but I really think it's important." I have a hard time thinking Santana would let the subject drop easily, especially after her experiences with being honest and open with Brittany. What a nightmare that was for glee club during junior year. "You know New York and New Haven aren't that far away," I add on hoping she can get the hint and maybe take some initiative herself.
"Tell that to Rachel," she scoffs and my neck snaps to the left at the mention of my name. "God, I didn't think I could be more obvious when I gave her those Metro tickets." Obvious about what? I have to bite my lip to keep from asking because if it was obvious then surely Santana already knows.
"I know you guys aren't that close, but did she ever say why she never used them?" I feel a tiny ping of guilt creeping in at her question. I honestly wanted to visit, but with all the drama with Finn and then Brody, the first semester just got away from me. Besides, if she really wanted me to come, wouldn't she have extended an invitation? Regardless, I never discussed any of this with Santana, so I try to answer honestly from her perspective.
"No, but you're getting side tracked here." This is about Quinn and Santana, not me, and I need that to be the focus of the conversation.
"I don't see how that's true, but continue."
"I know neither of us has the best track record, but I really feel like this could work out between us." We've turned onto my street and I know I have very little time left to make sure Quinn is open to the idea of dating Santana. Since I haven't gotten anywhere by letting her control the flow of the discussion, I decide to get straight to the point, "With a little effort on both our parts, I think we could begin what could be an amazingly hot and sexy relationship."
I end my logically sound claim with a confident smile only to have my friend burst out laughing next to me. She leans her head back, taking her eyes off the road briefly, as the car is filled with the sounds of her near delirious laughter. Well, I'm afraid Santana will not be very pleased with that reaction. I can only hope that Quinn will enlighten me as to the reasoning behind her outburst.
"Thank you for that," she says, her shoulders still shaking slightly as she tries to calm herself, "Definitely just made my weekend. Can you imagine the two of us together? That relationship would be doomed from the beginning. What with you thinking about Brittany and me moaning Rachel's name."
Quinn pulls into my driveway behind my car, so I know Santana is most likely inside, hopefully with Brittany in tow, but those two are the least of my worries. I turn the upper half of my body to fully look at Quinn and the smile that once graced her face has disappeared. Her jaw is set and her eyes are fixed to the front door almost as if she is yearning for something or…oh shit. Quinn's words and the implications of them finally hit me. She's not yearning for something; she's yearning for someone. She doesn't have feelings for Santana; Quinn has feelings for…me.
I can't even respond to her statement let alone see the look upon her face as she gazes wistfully at my house. I yank on the door handle and nearly tumble out of the car in my attempt to escape. I don't even have the decency to thank her for the ride; I am too caught up in my thoughts as my brain works on overdrive replaying her words while flashes of our interactions from high school flit through my mind.
"Santana!" Quinn calls through the open passenger window. I haven't even made it but two steps from the car, my mind too busy from this revelation to perform any simple tasks such as walking. I turn my neck and stare at her chin, unable to look her straight in the eye.
"Look," she glances to the front door then back to me, "this was fun, but we both know it won't happen again." I nod still unable to form a proper response.
"I know you think Brody is a sleaze and we both know Rachel can do better than both him and Finn. But please, Santana, please don't tell Rachel about this." I'm not sure what exactly she doesn't want me to know, the fact that she slept with Santana multiple times or that she apparently said my name during the process. I have a feeling it's the latter since Quinn saw 'me' come into her room this morning and the implications of what happened last night would be easy for anyone with a usable brain to understand.
I know I should nod my head and walk away, letting Quinn know I will abide by her request. But I already know too much. And I've always wanted everything too much. I thought I knew Quinn's motivations for her previous actions, but was I perhaps completely inaccurate the entire time I knew her? While it may be deceitful of me to take advantage of the opportunity, I may never get the chance again. I take a step forward so I can rest my hands on the windowsill of the car and finally gather the courage to meet her gaze.
"Why didn't you ever tell her? Or why not tell her now? We don't live in Lima anymore Quinn, it's different out there," I say nodding my head back toward the elusive 'there' as if we aren't in Lima right now, but I'm sure she gets the idea, "No one cares."
She rolls her eyes at me before glancing back toward my front door and responding, "We both know it's not about that. I could care less what people think of me anymore."
"So then what's stopping you?"
"She is!" Quinn shouts before clamping her mouth shut. She pulls her eyes away from me, running her right hand through her hair while her left grips tightly to the top of the steering wheel. She's staring at my front door again before she continues, "God, she's just," Quinn turns her head to meet my gaze again, "you know how she is."
Her head shakes as an almost amused smile plays on her lips; her eyes while on you are clearly lost in thought as she goes on, "She needs to be the center of attention and I would love to give her the attention she deserves, but we all know how that goes."
The smile begins to dissipate and I get the sinking feeling that Quinn has paid more attention to me than I ever noticed. Once any trace of lingering hope has disappeared from her face, she resumes her explanation, "As soon as someone is interested in her, she gets that tunnel vision and that lucky guy is all she ever sees. Finn, Jesse, this Brody guy, even Puck, they all showed Rachel they could like her so of course she clings to them like they are the answer to her problems. She worships the ground of any guy that gives her the time of day."
"Then tell her how you feel!" I say half demanding, half pleading. What is so wrong with me focusing my energy on the person I'm in a relationship with? If Quinn has feelings for me then isn't that what she wants?
"If you really believe that," I continue pushing my head through the open window keeping eye contact with the blonde, "then she would want you, be with you," I drop my gaze and softly let out the last part, "maybe even love you."
"You don't understand," she replies now desperately gripping the steering wheel with both hands. She is no longer looking at me or my front door; she is staring straight ahead her jaw clenched as one pinky twitches against the wheel. Her neck snaps suddenly in my direction as she stares at me, her unwavering gaze leaving me anxiously awaiting her next words.
"I don't want her to want me just because she knows I have feelings for her. I want her to want me because she has feelings for me," Quinn grits out before closing her eyes and turning her head forward again.
A soft "oh" falls off my tongue without me even being aware of it. I'm slightly perturbed by the fact that the only words running through my mind right now are the lyrics to I Want You to Want Me, which would be completely inappropriate to start singing at this moment especially in Santana's body. I'm even more concerned that I don't know if the lyrics playing in my brain are being sung by Quinn or by myself.
"I have to go," Quinn says abruptly, interrupting my thoughts. A resigned sigh escapes her lips as she glances at the clock on her dashboard. "Just keep this between you and me," she states, only this time it's not a request but a demand.
"Of course," I manage to choke out before stepping back as she rolls up the passenger window. She puts the car in reverse and gives me a nod in farewell before backing out of the driveway. I move quickly into my house, thankful that my father's are out of town this weekend so they won't be questioning the oddities that are no doubt occurring in my bedroom.
When I get to my room, the door is already open and Brittany lies across my bed with books piled around her while Santana has her laptop out as she searches the internet while sitting at my desk.
"Oh hey Rachel," Brittany says with a smile. At least one of us isn't completely thrown by the events of last night and this morning. I ignore her greeting and walk briskly over to the head of the bed to grab a pillow before moving towards the desk chair Santana sits upon.
"Took you long en-" THUMP.
The thwacking sound of my pillow hitting Santana's face cuts her off mid-sentence. She immediately stands up to defend herself, grabbing at the pillow, but I don't relinquish my hold.
"What the hell was that for?" She asks tugging on the pillow trying to get it out of my grasp. Brittany sits up on the bed, but remains quiet as she watches us in amusement. I can't pull the pillow from Santana's grip so I let go and grab another one from the foot of my bed.
"You let me think Quinn was in love with you." THUMP. Direct hit to her hip.
"You let me believe that you wanted to be with her." THUMP. Direct hit to her shoulder.
"Calm down, pillow monster," Santana says as she successfully snags the pillow after the second hit. She's biting her lip in a way that I know is to hold back her laughter, which only infuriates me more. Brittany wordlessly hands me another pillow, clearly amused and Santana sends her ex an acute frown at the act of betrayal.
"How could you let me make a fool of myself?" I throw the pillow at her this time, but my aim is so poor Santana doesn't even need to dodge. I reach my arm behind me, and Brittany places the last pillow from my bed in my hand.
"Well technically it's myself since – " THUMP. Knee.
"You knew the whole time!" THUMP. Stomach.
"You knew and you didn't say anything!" THUMP. Face.
"You should have told me!" Santana ducks my last strike and grabs one of the abused pillows off the floor by her feet before quickly swinging up with both hands. SMACK.
"Told you what?" I stagger a step back, dropping my weapon as Santana finally retaliates with a pillow smack to my jaw. "Hate to break it to you Berry, but Quinn's been my girl way longer than you have. When it comes to sides, I'm definitely on hers. Now what exactly do you think I should have told you?" She kicks the pillow I dropped so it's out of my reach, though it's not like I did any physical damage to her during our altercation.
"That Quinn didn't – doesn't, she doesn't want to be with you," I stammer out as I point at Santana accusingly, "She wants to – Quinn wants to be with me."
"Well yeah," Brittany states not even bothering to look up from the book she's gone back to reading now that the action has ceased.
"I just don't understand," I sigh out, the rush of adrenaline quickly leaving my bloodstream. I let my body slide down to the floor with my back resting against the bed.
"There could be a whole encyclopedia on shit you don't understand," Santana replies as she begins to grab the pillows littered on my floor, throwing them one by one back on the bed.
"Or are too oblivious to see," Brittany adds in while easily catching the pillows Santana is throwing without even looking. The smooth nature of their movements makes me think they've done this before and I almost want to apologize for completely downplaying the extent of Santana's relationship with Brittany and her feelings about their subsequent break up.
When the girls finish their routine, Santana sits back down on my desk chair. She swivels until she is facing her computer screen and states, "Either way, your two-years past due revelation is not going to help us with the major problem of getting you the hell out of my body." I nod in reluctant agreement though neither of them are looking at me.
"Here," Brittany hands me a pile of books on superstitions and witchcraft. "We haven't found much yet, but we're thinking there are only two solutions."
"And what are they?" I ask when she doesn't continue. She flips a page in her book before answering.
"You'll switch back automatically after a day, so it's just like a 24-hour bug." Well that one doesn't sound too bad. According to my alarm clock, I only have about fourteen more hours to go so I'm sure I could survive. When Brittany doesn't continue I question her again.
"And the other solution?"
Her eye scrunch as she reads over a passage, before she answer, "You both have to complete a task that shows character growth and then you'll switch back."
"So what happens if it's the second one?" I ask hesitantly. How am I supposed to have character growth in Santana's body, when I have a hard enough time progressing and moving forward in my own body?
"We just hope it's the first," Santana answers.
My neck is strained at the most uncomfortable angle as my ear digs into a hard, cold surface that could in no way be my pillow. I open my eyes once, twice then sit up straight, my back cracking in the process from falling asleep bent over my desk. As I gather my bearings, I see Brittany sprawled on her stomach taking up my whole bed with half of the books she had been reading laying carelessly on the floor. Santana is asleep on the floor, with her head using on of the books as a pillow.
I rub my eyes to make sure I'm fully awake. When I look again, it is clearly Santana on my floor. I rush to my closet door where my full-length mirror resides and let out an excited shriek when I see myself staring back at me.
"Berry," Santana grumbles rolling onto her back with her eyes still closed. "I have your signature on our roomie contract that there will be no squealing before 10 a.m." Brittany stirs on the bed, but also remains half asleep. I walk over to Santana and nudge her with my foot.
"I think you might negate my breaching of the contract if you open your eyes and greet the day."
"Jesus Berry," Santana mutters, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sits up. "I might have to reconsider this whole roomie thing if you insist on yapping at me this early every morning." She opens her eyes and then slowly blinks once.
"You're you," she states plainly. I hold back from rolling my eyes, knowing that it is an unattractive quality.
"Very astute," I reply.
Santana looks down at her body and then cups her own boobs before exhaling a quiet, "Thank God." She shoots me a glare, which I assume means I shouldn't mention what I just saw. After getting up quickly, Santana proceeds to lean over the bed and gently shake Brittany awake.
"Come on Britts, let's bounce," Santana says as she helps Brittany off the bed. The two gather up the books and Santana's laptop throwing them in a couple backpacks they brought over. They begin to exit my room before I finally speak up.
"That's it?"
"That's what?" Santana asks back. Before I can reply she continues, "Our plane leaves in a couple hours. I need to get Britt home then swing by my house to at least say hello to my parents. I'll be back in time for Kurt's dad to pick us up to go to the airport, no worries."
Santana's calm approach to the aftermath of our body switch unnerves me. How can she act so casually when something crazy and supposedly scientifically impossible just happened to us? Santana moves to stand in front of me and places her hand near my shoulder, before she thinks better of it and drops it back down to her side.
"Rachel, I really just want to forget this ever happened."
"What if I don't want to forget?"
Santana holds my gaze with a steady stare before biting out, "Then do something about it." She pivots on one foot and leaves my room without a backward glance. Brittany gives me a quick hug, but offers no words of advice before she follows Santana out.
I gave myself three weeks. One week to call up Finn and apologize for what happened at the wedding. That week was used to purge his relationship and the girl I had become for him from my life. The second week, I sat Brody down and discussed how an open relationship wasn't working for me. I explained that I didn't think there would be a place for him in my life when I didn't even want to stay faithful to him.
The third week was for me. I had become someone so far from myself that I couldn't even recognize who I was or what I wanted. I tried to focus on myself, but I couldn't keep Quinn's words from replaying in my head. In fact, during the last three weeks I had a hard time getting Quinn out of my head. But was my obsession with the girl merely because I found out she was interested in me or had the thoughts always been there, lying dormant under a blanket of insecurities and fear of rejection?
I couldn't blame Quinn for never telling me about her feelings, when her reasoning behind doing so was not only logical, but also rather romantic. However, seeing as I already know the truth and this knowledge is not something that can be undone, there is really no point wasting my time trying to determine the reason behind why my thoughts tend to linger on Quinn. The fact of the matter is that they do and though I don't know what exactly I feel for her in return, I'm determined to find out.
It's at the end of the third week, exactly three Saturdays after the wedding, that I finally reach out to Quinn.
To Quinn: Are you busy next weekend?
Her text reply comes almost instantly.
From Quinn: Hello to you to. Probably just some homework and studying. Why?
To Quinn: Sorry, hello! It's been a crazy semester and I could really use a break. I have these Metro tickets that I'd really like to use…
From Quinn: You want to come to New Haven?
To Quinn: Yes, if you don't mind and you'd want to see me.
Unlike her first two responses, her next one is not as fast. I lay on my bed staring at my phone willing her to reply. Six whole minutes go by before my phone alerts me of a new text message.
From Quinn: No, I don't mind at all.
Well that certainly shouldn't have taken six minutes to type out. Perhaps I'm overstepping my boundaries by inviting myself to visit her. This is why I never did it in the first place because I didn't want to intrude. If Quinn refuses to extend the invitation due to supposedly romantic noble causes then I will have to take the reigns instead. But I have to make sure she actually wants me there.
To Quinn: So you're okay with me visiting next weekend?
From Quinn: Yes, of course.
Her response is almost immediate and another text comes nearly seconds after the first like it was added on as an afterthought.
From Quinn: I'd really like that.
I smile to myself as I debate whether to answer her or not. I type out my response and stare at it as my finger hovers over the send button. I close my eyes and push send, letting my words fly through the wireless network and allowing myself to be open to whatever else may come with it.
To Quinn: Me too.