Hi frens! Overwhelmed. You guys are so awesome. I know the first chapter was Quinn's pov but we're back to Rachel's...Quinn will have the occasional chapter or two when it calls for it. Thanks for reading, hope you all had great weekends! :)
This place sucks.
I hate it here and I want to leave right now, but I promised Quinn that I would at least try.
Currently I'm trying to think of ways to get out of here without alerting the therapist that I've even left. It's not like I'm even talking, this guy has been going on for ten minutes about his credentials. Like I even care that he went to Princeton.
I wonder what Quinn is doing right now.
I haven't seen her at all today, she's adamant on me taking this therapy thing seriously. It's kind of endearing. I find it's still taking some time to get used to the fact that she actually cares about me, that she's not the person I thought she was. She's way better.
Sometimes I wonder if I've slipped and hit my head, landing me in this alternate reality where I'm entirely smitten with Miss Fabray. Maybe she drugged me. It would make sense; no one could be that perfect and still be single.
Unless you're Quinn and you've been hung up on the same person for years.
I don't let her forget it either.
"Would you like to hear why I decided to become a therapist?"
I flash my perfectly white teeth as I give him the fakest grin I can manage, "Sure!"
He goes off on some tangent and I'm free to continue my thoughts, which I've been finding are always on Quinn.
It's not that I'm obsessed with her; it's that I'm overly obsessed with her. She's kind of like my crack. I'm utterly addicted to every aspect of her. Her meaningful words, her lingering touches, her stunning looks, her contagious laugh, her bright eyes, her brilliant smile, her ongoing legs, her soothing voice… just everything.
She kisses me as if she's never tasted something so good, she holds me as if I'm about to disappear for a year, and she watches me like she's never seen a human being before in her life. There's just no way to explain it, everything she does is everything to me.
I don't enjoy sneaking around with her but we both need to figure out what's going on between us before we make any rash decisions.
"Can I leave yet?"
I'm growing impatient, I need to see her.
"Y-you still have another half hour."
I study him. He's an old-fashioned man, probably has tons of grandchildren, and I'm probably the first person that's ever intimidated him to the point of stuttering. He tugs on his collar and pulls the pocket watch out of the inside of his brown jacket before glancing back at me. He pats his forehead with the white handkerchief that came from the front of his suit before tucking it back where it belongs.
I've lasted longer than I thought I would and I consider it a small victory. I've put in my day's work and I'm ready to get the hell out of this office. It smells like his lunch and his lunch was definitely tuna. This doctor should be counting his blessings that he made it thirty minutes without one insult.
"I have more important things to do," I tell him.
I'm already up off his couch, which might as well be a leather bed. My sunglasses are on and I didn't even bother taking off my jacket this time. He shakes my hand and tells me that he'll see me on Wednesday. Doubtful.
Lauren gets smarter as the days go on and the town car is still parked outside of this man's building.
"Hiya Chuck," I greet the driver.
He nods his hello and opens the door for me. I've recently learned that he has a toddler and another baby on the way. He's actually really nice and he's always up to date on politics, I've learned it's his forte.
"New record," he chimes as he puts the car in drive.
I grin and look out the window, "How long would it take you to get your doctorate in Psychology, do you wanna be my therapist?"
I wouldn't mind laying in the backseat while he drives me around the City, asking me whatever questions his little heart desires.
He chuckles and shakes his head. I guess he thought I was joking.
"Where are we going?" he asks as we roll to a stop at the light.
I glance at my watch, "Take me to that sandwich place on 6th."
He smiles in the rearview mirror and continues to drive.
Quinn refuses to admit it but I know she's under a lot of stress, and I don't really blame her. She's having a bit of an identity crisis and as many times as she's had to try and convince me it isn't my fault, I know it is. She had romantic feelings for a patient under her care, I was said patient, and I'm the reason that she's reevaluating her entire life. I've yet to find Jocelyn Rogers, the sleezy receptionist that broke the news of our affair to the tabloids, but my people are out there and they will find her. No one screws Rachel Berry and then screws her figuratively. That's just rude and inconsiderate of her. Not to mention that she's screwed with Quinn's life, I just simply cannot have that happening under my watch.
"Hi Rachel!"
I smile at the cashier as I take my sunglasses off, "How are you, Jessica?"
Jessica nearly had a panic attack when I walked into this deli almost a month ago. Quinn had mentioned that it was her favorite place to eat one weekend but it was too far away for her to leave her office everyday in order to get it. I liked to surprise her with a random sandwich every once and a while, I've learned that she'll just about eat anything with meat and cheese on it.
"I'm great!" she's always so chipper when she sees me and it makes me feel good about myself.
Jessica is a sophomore at NYU and works at the deli part time during the days before her afternoon classes. She waitresses at night and already has an internship lined up for summer credit. She's a hard worker and reminds me of myself when I attended the college. I haven't told her yet but I consider her my little prodigy. I rarely take an invested interest in someone's life but her smile is contagious and she's also made it out of a small town of losers.
It's amazing what you can learn about someone when you actually converse with them. I suppose it could also be a testament to how much I'm actually in here, too. Regardless, she's good people.
When Quinn texted me earlier in the morning I could tell that something wasn't right with her. I've always been thankful for my sixth sense and it seems that my Quinn sense is much stronger than I know what to do with. I can tell when she's not her usual self and I've been thinking of ways to rectify the situation since our earlier conversation. I know that a sandwich from this place is a step in the right direction.
I tell Jessica the order and we chat idly for a bit while she pounds the extra meat on for Quinn. Today I learn that Jessica lives with her boyfriend, he's an aspiring singer.
I throw Charles the sandwich that I ordered him and he protests until I playfully put up the divider that separates the front seat from the back seat. I hear him say thank you before it slides fully shut.
He knows where we are off to next.
I throw Erin the receptionist the bag of gummy worms as I pass by, she seemed like a gummy worm type of person.
"Hello Darling."
I kick the door shut with my foot and it closes softly, I've managed to perfect the right amount of force to use in order for it to fully close without slamming. She's staring out of her 19th floor window with one hand wrapped around her chest as the other one plays with the cross around her neck. I find her in this position quite a lot. She tends to daze off, deep in her thoughts while she shuts out the world.
There's such beauty in the way she's so serene and calm all of the time, it automatically makes me want to be a better person.
She laughs to herself when she turns to greet me, "You shouldn't be here," she reminds me, "But I'm glad you are."
I smile as I approach her; I lean up and give her a small kiss on her cheek. She can be so shy sometimes.
"I thought you'd be hungry," I hold up the white bag as if it resembles a peace offering.
She has a warm smile and her eyes rake over my face, I feel like I'm under a spotlight when she looks at me. I'm only aware of the blazing heat her hazel orbs offer me. She finally takes the bag from me and peers inside.
"It smells like you left your session early."
I give her a teeth baring smile and she rolls her eyes before gesturing towards the light tan couch. I plop down and bounce a few times, testing it out. I still don't know how I feel about it. It needs to be broken in.
"I don't like this couch, we should—"
"No. Don't even finish your sentence."
I jut out my lower lip and she just laughs as she sits next to me. She dumps out the contents of the bag and her eyes double in size at all the fun goodies I brought us. It's rather fun picking out teeth rotting types of candy and snacks. Quinn has sort of a sweet tooth, for candy and for disgustingly mushy sentiments.
"Why are you so good to me?" she asks as she reads the labels on the wrapped sandwiches before handing me mine.
She knows that I would never eat a sandwich with three different kinds of meat.
"I kind of like you."
She moans as she takes a bite of her sandwich and I force myself to think of the hotdog vendor that always whistles at me when I walk by. I need a distraction. I can't possibly be turned on by her reactions to food that she thinks taste good.
"I know what you're doing," she says after she takes a large gulp of her diet coke, "You're trying to butter me up so I won't yell at you for leaving yet another therapy session."
Actually I just did it because I wanted to. But now that I think about it, buttering her up is a nice added bonus.
"You don't yell," I remind her.
She laughs and takes another bite, "I suppose you're right."
Lauren's been texting me all morning, she's on one of my missions and is keeping me updated.
"I mean, you do shout sometimes," I reply as I throw my phone into my oversized purse of unnecessary crap. I mean honestly, there is no reason to have 5 different flavors of gum. I just know that if I try to downsize my gum inventory that I'm going to want the flavor I get rid of. I digress.
I try to give Quinn my undivided attention at all times, even when she's housing deli meat into her mouth like it's about to become obsolete.
She gives me a puzzled look but her eyes are back on her sandwich. She seriously must have been starving. I smirk to myself.
"Words like harder, or oh God, and sometimes even right there," I drawl it out and I find that I actually do an amazing impression of her, "I enjoy when you scream my name as you come."
She coughs furiously and holds her chest as she reaches for her drink. I laugh to myself as I delicately open the white wrapping around my sandwich. It always takes me a good minute to decide what half I want to eat first. Do I want the bigger half now because I'm hungry? Or do I want the smaller half so that I can have the bigger half later? Ugh, I hate decisions like this. It can totally affect the rest of my day. It took me five minutes to even decide what kind of drink I wanted to wash down the Panini. Did I want something with carbonation or did I want something smooth like iced tea? These issues seriously trouble me sometimes.
Quinn's still coughing but she'll be fine in a few minutes. I could have done much worse to her. Some of the things she says in bed? Hot damn, I'm getting heated just thinking about them. It's her own fault really, she should know by now that I have no shame. Little ol' Rachel Berry with no filter from high school grew up.
"Why do you have to do that?" she asks, her face bright red from choking—or embarrassment—and her eyes watery. She coughs a few more times.
I shrug, why wouldn't I? She should've seen that coming.
"I should have seen that coming."
We're such a married couple and it makes me feel giddy. I can't believe that I've gone so long without her in my life this way.
Not only does she voice my inner thoughts most of the time but she continues to set me up for more jokes. She really does love me.
I time it just right; she takes another swig from her soda.
"You should see you coming."
She coughs again and this time pounds her chest with her fist.
"Stop that!"
I feel bad for her so I bring my hand to run circles around her upper back as she coughs away the soda that went down the wrong pipe.
"But you're so pretty when you're flustered," I smile and tap her nose with my other hand.
"We need to find you another therapist," she changes the subject.
"Can't we just break up and you can be my therapist again?"
She tenses but recovers quickly, "I didn't even know we were dating to begin with."
She's teasing me now because I tend to give her a similar response when she brings up the D word. I mean, we're exclusive and I suppose we're officially dating each other and there's really no reason why we couldn't consider each other our significant others but it's kind of fun to tease.
I do believe that was Quinn's motto once upon a time. She sure has graduated from that.
I think I'm waiting for a grand romantic gesture from her end and it's only because she seems like the kind of person that would make it extravagant and tear inducing. Then again, she's kind of been doing it since high school I just haven't been made aware of it until recently.
Truthfully, it's the one thing we haven't talked about since our hot and heavy sexual rendezvous. I think we just kind of assumed without really stating it out loud.
"You're right. One would have to take the other on a date for that to be considered true."
Her jaw drops open and I lean back into the corner of the couch, my fingers dancing across the top of the cushion.
Now I'm just messing with her. I know that she's been dying to take me on a date. An actual first date because it's like the only thing she's wanted to do for a month.
"You know I want to."
"Soon we can."
It's actually one of the other reasons that I wanted to see her, I have wonderful news.
"Look, I know that you're stressed out over everything that I caused."
She levels me with a warning glare and I hold my hands up in surrender this time because we've spent countless hours going back and forth on it.
"A press release is being issued soon."
"What kind of press release?"
She looks nervous. Have I ever given her a reason to be nervous?
"Well the people on my staff work extremely hard to protect my image and to protect the images of the people I interact with on a daily basis, mainly you."
"You can't just sweep things under the carpet, Rach."
"I'm a celebrity. I get other people to sweep for me."
She's trying not to smile because she knows that if she smiles then I immediately take it as her approval. Little does she know, I consider her trying not to smile as approval, too. She's basically always approving of my ideas and it's a win-win situation for me.
"That's not what I meant and you know it."
"Basically someone else came forward and is claiming to have actually been my therapist during the time of our alleged secret affair," I whisper the last part for dramatic effect.
She's trying not to smile again.
"Willingly or forcefully?"
I choose not to answer.
"How does that even work, my signatures were on all of the documents."
"Well you were supposed to be my therapist but once the conflict of interest was discovered I sought out someone else. We reconnected after learning we were both in New York and that's why we were seen out and about."
"That's lying."
She's pretty. She's pretty. She's pretty.
She's not slow. She's not slow. She's not slow.
"Furthermore," I continue, "There was no official complaint made and you won't be investigated."
"Rach…"
"And if you'll recall, I never signed that dumb contract you read at the first session. I was never your patient."
She surveys me, "How do you know all of this?"
"My lawyer is actually doing her job."
"You met with your lawyer?"
Puh-lease.
"Lauren is there now, she's been sending me updates."
She nods as if it makes sense to her now.
"I met with the judge yesterday and I know of all this," she tells me as she sits back into the couch.
"You knew the judge that sentenced me to death?"
She arches an eyebrow.
"The sweetest death possible," I quickly correct.
"She's a family friend. I told her the entire story, save for the love part, and she agreed that it would be beneficial to you if I was your therapist."
"Great, this is even better news. So we're on the same page with this?"
"You still have to do thirty hours."
Ugh, that sucks.
"Done."
"Before you commit to a decision—"
"There is no decision to make Quinn, it's settled already. You won't get reprimanded and I won't—"
"I want you to know that I'm turning in my license anyway."
"What the fuck for?"
"Rach, I broke a ton of laws with what I did, you may not have been my patient when we actually got together but that doesn't really matter. I was emotionally involved with you and I still am, even if there are loopholes, I can't consciously continue as a therapist."
I stand up from the couch and gesture around the office, "But you love doing this."
"I love a lot of things."
"But this is your job, your life," I remind her.
This is her second home. If she's not at her apartment, then she's here and if she's not here then she's at my place.
"Priorities change."
"But you're an amazing therapist, people need you!"
All those poor crazies would be devastated if their number 1 shrink just decided to wave the white flag. Think of the crazies, Quinn!
"They'll find someone else they can depend on."
I shake my head, "I can't let you do this."
I'm stubborn as hell and I can't possibly let her do this to her life.
"It's already done."
Excuse me?
"You didn't even talk to me about this?"
Quinn finally stands from the couch and attempts to approach me but stops when I hold my hand out, "I had to make this decision alone, you have to understand."
I hate when she pleads because her voice cracks and so does my heart. I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing in and out. There's no way that she can turn in her license because that means that I'm the reason it's happening. I'm to blame for this.
"No! I don't have to understand anything! This is bullshit, Fabray. I'm not going to let you just throw away everything you've worked for. Our situation was different, we were special."
"It doesn't matter."
"So now I don't matter? What I feel and what I think doesn't matter to you anymore?"
I can't take this anymore, I feel claustrophobic in this office. I might be acting childish but it's just a side effect of not getting what I want. And I just want Quinn to be happy.
She steels her jaw, "That's not what I was saying and you know it."
I glare at her, "I know what you were saying."
I turn on my heel and begin walking towards her door. I'm furious with the entire situation.
"Would you rather me slide by on technicalities or do the responsible and moral thing?"
"I don't know what morals are," I throw over my shoulder.
"It's better this way," she calls out as I pull the door open.
Once the door slams closed I begin pacing around the lobby.
"Everything okay, Miss Berry?"
Ah Erin, so innocent in her ways.
Happily munching on a red and green gummy worm without a care in the world.
"No, everything is not okay Erin," I tell her as I walk towards her desk, "Am I being irrational? Is this really what she wants? You would never go to the press, right? It's just, she's an amazing person and an even better therapist and I completely ruined this for her. I know I'm being selfish but I'm standing up for all those poor crazy people that will have to find someone else to dump their problems on, they'll have to find another couch to sit on. Trust me, comfortable couches are hard to come by! Am I overreacting? God, I'm so overreacting. This isn't about me, well technically it is, but this is her decision to make. She's not making a mistake, is she? What do you think, do you think that she knows what she's doing? Of course, she does. She's Quinn Fabray and she's always known what she was doing. I still don't feel right about this. Damn her for giving me a heart again! Damn her to hell! Good chat, Er," I knock on her desk and walk back towards the office door.
I throw the door back open and startle Quinn out of her own pacing.
"I thought you'd be downstairs by now."
I should have been.
She runs her hands over her face and I cross the threshold into her office, the door closes behind me and I take a few more steps until I'm standing directly in front of her.
"I just needed a minute to compose myself," I tell her softly.
She nods, "I understand."
Of course she does, because she's perfect and everything I could ask for and more.
She reaches out and grasps both my hands in hers, her thumbs run over the back of my hands simultaneously as her eyes run over my face.
I take a deep breath, and then another one.
"So you're going to give up something you love—"
"For something else I love."
"But I'm—"
"Don't you dare tell me you're not worth it."
"And if we break up?"
She smiles softly, "We're not dating."
"You know what I fucking mean."
"We won't," she assures me.
"We might."
"I'm going to ignore your blatant disregard for what we have together and tell you that I still wouldn't regret my decision."
"But—"
She cuts me off again, "Rachel, sweetheart, I'm only twenty seven, I can do anything I want. You really don't have to worry about me."
Well, when she puts it that way.
"Being a therapist was rewarding in the beginning and helping people is something that I'll always have in me but if I'm being entirely honest, I didn't feel whole and now that I've thought about it seriously, I don't think I even want to be a therapist anymore, even if any of this didn't happen."
"So what will you do?"
"Anything. For once in my life I can do whatever I want."
She has a genuine smile and it's the smile I should be happy for. She's excited.
She continues, "I can go back to school or I can sit around all day," she laughs, "I'm overwhelmed with all the possibilities, I just want to do it all."
"You will," I whisper, her excitement feels like it's seeping into my veins.
"So you're okay with this?"
I nod and bite my lip, "I'm happy that you're happy."
"I want to make it clear, if you're going to issue this press release still, it's for you and not me."
"What do you mean? It's for the both of us."
"The only reason I'm letting you cover this up is because I don't want you to have to deal with the negative image you'll get for dating your therapist"
"Right, when we start dating," I smile coyly.
"Yes, when we start dating."
"Fine."
"And because you're going to take therapy seriously."
"No, I'm not," I laugh out.
She's on crack if she thinks that I'm going to seriously do thirty more hours of therapy and learn something from it.
"Well what are you going to do with your life? I can't be friends with someone that bums around all day!" I scream, "It's bad for my image."
My apartment has wonderful acoustics and my voice sounds magical as it reverberates off the walls.
"Who cares! It's my life, if you don't want to be my friend than that's your problem," she counters.
She's getting better and better at firing back at me. She doesn't even miss a beat anymore, it frightens me a bit. She reminds me of fierce cheerleader Quinn and it turns me on beyond belief. I love riling her up just to unwind her later.
"Okay, both of you need to stop. I've known for a month that you've been sleeping with each other. It was cute in the beginning but now you just give me headaches."
"I hate her?" I try one more time.
"If by hate you mean love then sure, I know you do."
I narrow my eyes at Lauren, Quinn's laughter breaks me out of my stare down.
"Traitor," I sneer at Quinn, she holds up her hand as the other covers over her stomach.
"I'm sorry," she breathes after catching her breath, "it's just funny that we've been doing this for nothing."
I remain neutral towards Quinn's amusement at the situation and turn my attention towards my assistant. I love when Quinn laughs and if I keep watching her than I know a smile will break out onto my face and Lauren will never get properly reprimanded.
"You have video cameras around the apartment, don't you?"
I knew it.
Lauren looks around the apartment, "You really are delusional sometimes."
I choose to ignore her observation. Because honestly? How could I not be paranoid that people are spying on me? I recently learned that Quinn had my table bugged so she could tell my incompetent boyfriend what to say when he took me out to dinner. My apartment could be as wired as the oval office when Nixon was president.
I remind myself to thank my driver later because without his side passion for politics, I would have never been able to make that analogy. I rarely paid attention in my general education classes unless it directly related to my aspirations.
"No, I'm not. Right, Quinn?"
"Why do you think I buzz before I come up now?" Lauren asks before Quinn can answer.
I was kind of hoping that Quinn could answer. I hope she doesn't agree with Lauren's viewpoint.
But my assistant makes a good point. How did I miss that?
"I don't know how you could have possibly known."
Quinn's still on the other side of the room sitting on a barstool at the island. Lauren is still sitting on the couch nonchalantly flipping through a magazine. She tells me it's for research but I think she secretly loves tabloid gossip, even though she knows almost all of it is exaggerated or false. She also tends to get excited when celebrities do the same things she does.
"You're with her every free moment you have," she replies.
"That doesn't prove anything."
"I upped Charles' salary so he would tell me where he takes you when I'm not around."
That little!
"Who gave you authorization to do that?"
She laughs, "You did. In the middle of your fake fight with Quinn about what kind of Campbell's soup was the best for snow days."
Tomato soup is far superior to Quinn's chicken noodle. I was actually serious about that argument.
It goes without saying that we were obviously running low on topics for discussion that particular day.
She shrugs, "Well you signed the document, you should have been paying more attention."
Oh, I should have been paying more attention. She shouldn't have taken advantage of my absent mind. And my mind tends to be absent quite a lot when Quinn and I are in the same room.
"What else have you done?"
She looks down at the magazine; I see she's done answering my inquiries. Clearly she's guilty of something.
"I blame you," I point to Quinn who's been sporting an amused smirk on her face the entire time.
"Me!" she points to her chest, "This was your idea."
Lauren chuckles to herself. I turn my glare on her, she doesn't get to chuckle or have fun when I'm around.
"We have lots of hot sex on that couch."
"Ew!"
"Rachel!"
I shrug, "She deserved to know."
She didn't deserve to know, I just wanted to see her freak out. It was highly amusing.
Lauren flies up from the couch and moves towards the smaller loveseat.
"I wouldn't," I sing song.
She rolls her eyes before spinning around a few times, out of options of where to sit. She gestures towards the coffee table and I shake my head back and forth.
"Are you serious? The coffee table?" she whips around to Quinn who is burrowing her red face in her hands.
I'm finding this entire interaction rather memorable. Like I said, no shame.
"What can I say, she's that good."
Lauren huffs and begins to make her way towards the door; I guess she's had enough of me for one day. I'm sure she'll be back in an hour. Quinn sends her a small sympathetic wave. I'm positive that I'm going to be reprimanded for embarrassing her and announcing our sexual endeavors so I might as well milk it while I still can. I can claim ignorance after the fact.
"Laur," I call out to her.
She turns around, "I don't want to know."
I really don't care if she wants to know or not.
"We need to sound proof the apartment too, so, look into it."
Lauren rolls her eyes and turns to Quinn whose face has never been redder. I meant it when I said she's pretty when she's flustered.
"I blame you," she points towards the blonde who now has her hands thrown in the air; clearly she's surrendering and accepts full blame.
She can tame me but she can't hold me down. Unless of course I'm handcuffed, but that's a different situation entirely.
"Don't blame her, I just don't think the neighbors appreciate me screaming Quinn's name every night," I shrug innocently, "Well, basically whenever we're alone."
Quinn's eyes widen and Lauren shakes her head. I mean, she should seriously be used to this by now.
"I deserve a raise," she states.
"I'm sure you already gave yourself one."
She throws the door open and I don't miss the smirk she has when she slips out into the hallway.
"You," Quinn points once we're alone again. Her eyes are narrowed and she looks determined.
Is it entirely cliché if I audibly gulp?
"I don't know what you're talking about."
She gets up from the barstool and walks over towards me, I should have better anticipated that she'd want revenge for me completely exploiting our alone time in order to get back at Lauren. Why was I even attempting to get back at her anyway?
She doesn't say anything as she comes to a stop in front of me and she's completely in my personal space.
"So…Lauren knows. That's cool, huh?"
She raises an eyebrow; she's totally not buying my ploy to change the subject.
"You're in trouble," she whispers.
I sway towards her. It's like her presence just magnetically moves me closer to her. I close my eyes when I feel her hands slide under my t-shirt, her palms are still cold from resting on the marble countertop and I shiver.
"You gonna punish me?"
"I am."
She leans closer and her lips brush against mine as her nose lightly nuzzles my cheek; her hands are starting to grip my skin as they travel over my stomach. She begins to moan into my mouth and every sound she makes shoots right to my center. We're not even doing anything and she still makes me feel incredible.
I smile against her lips which are still lightly tracing mine.
"How?"
Images of her undressing me in the master bedroom flood my mind while electric jolts travel to my core. Her teasing would go on for a bit before she'd ultimately cave to my begging. She loves it when I tell her exactly what I want. She loves it when I whimper until she gives me exactly what I need.
She finally attaches her lips to mine and her hunger takes me by surprise. She can be particularly greedy on most occasions or she can be giving when she wants to be. There's something entirely different about this kiss and my mind is too clouded to realize what it is.
"You'll see," she growls into my mouth before pulling back from me.
It takes me a few seconds to open my eyes and it's then that I realize she's nowhere near me. She's smirking at me evilly a few feet away, like she's proud that she accomplished what she wanted.
"Oh, you are such a tease."
She shrugs, "Guess you won't be screaming my name anytime soon."
I open my mouth to protest, surely I can think of something to fire back at her. She just completely blue-balled me and doesn't seem the least bit affected.
"At least until your apartment is sound proofed," she taunts.
I think my jaw is opened, I feel betrayed. I run a hand through my hair in order to compose myself; I literally have no rebuttal for her unsportsmanlike conduct. She picks her coat up triumphantly and throws it over her shoulder.
"Where are you going?"
"I have things to do."
"Do me."
She laughs, "You sound desperate."
"You've seen yourself, correct? How could I not be?"
"And here I thought we had a deeper connection," she shakes her head and continues towards the door.
"Take me with you?"
She pauses and her smile is genuine before she gestures her head towards my coat, "Come on."
I feel like clapping. I throw on my coat and join her at the door.
She leans in and gives me a small kiss on the lips before she opens the door and allows me to walk ahead of her out into the hallway.
"So where are we going?"
She watches her feet as she walks and I find myself watching her feet as well, "Home Depot," she replies before glancing at me. My face must give away my confusion because she elaborates, "Sound proofing materials."
There's a flash to her eyes that lets me know she's kidding and I realize that I don't really care where we're going as long as we're going together.
