hello there pretty lady, do you know my name?
do you realize how far you are inside my brain?
Finn realizes that he's in trouble when he's kissing his girlfriend and the name shaping on his lips isn't hers, but the girl that sits two seats down in his Chemistry class. He pulls away from the kiss quickly, mind racing and heart pounding in its attempt to keep up. She frowns, her brow wrinkling, and all he can think is that her eyes are so different from the Chemistry girl. "Everything okay?" She asks softly, and he shakes his head. Get it together, he thinks, flashing her a half-smile.
"Yeah, definitely." He goes back to kissing her, but his thoughts are on the Chemistry girl, wondering if her lip gloss is peach, like his girlfriend's, or something new altogether. (He's been thinking about convincing her to get a new flavor, but their problems go way beyond Lipsmackers.)
A couple days later, Finn deliberately sits a couple seats down from his usual seat, knowing it's immature but innocent, and when she walks in, her eyebrows raise slightly when she notices him. He smirks into his notebook, pretending to write down what the professor has on the chalkboard. "That's my seat," she says simply, standing next to him. He glances up, putting on his best apologetic look, flashing her a crooked smile.
"I'm so sorry…" he says, standing up, voice trailing off expectantly. She smiles slightly, one side of her mouth curling higher than the other.
"Quinn." She replies, smoothly sitting down in her seat. He grins.
"It's nice to meet you." He walks back to his seat without a name, feeling like he could pat himself on the back for the seed he's planted in her mind.
Their next encounter happens at a party of a mutual friend. His girlfriend's off with her friends, probably complaining about him again, and he wanders into the kitchen, opening one of the ice chests and grabbing a Coke, turning around and coming face to face with her. Quinn. Her name has been bouncing around his head for the past week and a half, and even though they haven't spoken since he took her chair, she smiles with recognition.
"I know you. You're the seat thief." She says, her smile coy and teasing, and he grins.
"Most people just call me Finn." He replies, offering her the bottle. "Coke?" She laughs, taking the bottle and twisting the top off, shaking her head.
"I don't know, seat thief has a bit of a ring to it."
"Yeah, a criminal one." She laughs again, and he decides he likes it.
Two weeks later, she finds him in the library, head ducked into a book he's not really reading. His eyes are red, and when she sinks next to him, he glances up and quickly away again, hiding his tear-stained cheeks with a grin that comes out more like a grimace. She frowns. "Rough day?" He laughs without humor.
"You could say that." She exhales, standing up and tugging on his hand.
"Come on. Drinks on me."
Three weeks later, he glances over at her, and when he catches her eye, sends her a smile that causes her to blush and look back down at her notes, causing him to chuckle quietly, scribbling a quick note, sliding it down the desk like they're in fifth grade.
When she sends it back, the yes box checked, he grins to himself, realizing he's in more trouble than he thought. And surprisingly, he doesn't mind it.
(Three hours later, he's happy to find out her lipgloss tastes like strawberry, his favorite fruit.)