Rachel swung an arm out, blindly reaching for the alarm. The sound was ringing through her ears, and after only ten seconds of hearing the sound, she was carelessly pressing buttons until finally, she silenced the device, rolling onto her back to a small huff.
She'd arrived home from Las Vegas late last night - to an empty house, of course - and when Brody did arrive home, after a weekend of partying, he barely acknowledged her. It was no surprise when all she got from him, was a few drunken slurs, before he passed out next to her.
Rachel had to remind herself, why she had chosen this man, over the man she'd married only three days ago; the man, who seemed to be the prince charming she'd always dreamed of. She was doing this to make her fathers proud, and to finally achieve her dream of playing Fanny Brice. She had convinced herself that eventually she could learn to love Brody. He wasn't always so bad, and there had been an attraction there.
After taking a moment to think to herself, she let go of a yawn and carefully rolled out of bed. She could still feel a small ache from between her legs, and her mind instantly went back to Quinton. Since she'd left him, she constantly had small flashbacks of their night together, each memory showing the most erotic experience of her life.
"How is it possible to miss a stranger?" Rachel sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Since she'd walked out of that hotel room, she couldn't get Quinton out of her mind. Her clothes still held a hint of his intoxicating scent, and the darker shades of skin over her neck still excited her.
"Snap out of it, Rachel. He's gone, you're getting married," she mumbled to herself, tying up her robe as she made her way through to the bathroom.
Today was finally the day of her first rehearsal, now that they had a new director. She didn't know why Brody had been the one to interview him, after all, Brody didn't know a thing about Funny Girl, good directors, or how to put together a Broadway show. She simply relied on him, for his funds.
Deciding to put a little faith in the man she was going to marry, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, and turned on the hot water, slowly peeling off her clothes, until she could step under the hot spray of water; engulfed in a cloud of steam as she relaxed under the stream.
She went through her usual morning routine; singing her three favourite songs in the shower as she cleansed herself, before she slid out and dried off her body, followed by her extensive moisturising routine - just about the only thing she had in common with her future husband.
Finally, once she was ready, dressed in her favourite winter attire, she made sure that the erotic marks over her neck were covered with a sufficient amount of make-up, before she left; leaving her hung-over fiancé groaning and grumbling in bed, while she went off to collect her breakfast from her usual café.
Rachel tried her best to push thoughts of the blonde to the back of her mind, focusing on the script in front of her as she sipped on her coffee; the smell of steaming coffee invading her scenes. She knew the script from the movie almost by heart, but she simply wanted to be brilliant. She wanted to impress this new director, and of course the audience on every night she performed.
"So are you still going to ignore me? Like you did since you came back from lover boy's hotel room?" Santana asked, sipping on her own coffee.
"It's not like you even cared. You were too busy with your new girlfriend," Rachel responded.
Santana blushed; enough that Rachel could tell, despite the Latina's ethnicity.
"How is Brittany by the way?" the brunette asked.
"Good," Santana replied, hiding behind her coffee cup as she took a sip. "She doesn't actually live too far from the city, so I can visit her."
"Good for you. I may have been in my own little world, the last few days, but I have noticed that she tends to put a smile on your face."
Santana merely nodded in response; the two of them staying silent for some time as Rachel read through her script and the two women sipped on their coffee.
"So, did you tell Brody?" the Latina asked curiously.
"No, and I'm not going to," Rachel said, finally looking up from her page at Santana. "We all know what Brody's like. I don't really think I need to. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?"
Santana's perfectly manicured brows rose and she tilted her head, before Rachel continued.
"Quinton told me he's going to take care of it. He's going to get a quick, and quiet annulment, and then it won't count, I can still marry him."
"But it's so obvious that you two aren't right for one another, and this just proves it."
"No, Santana. We might not be, like you and Brittany, who despite being together, for only three days now, are overly affectionate, but we'll work. Like I said, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."
"Okay, okay. No need to bite my head off," Santana retorted, shaking her head. "I won't say a thing."
Rachel gave Santana a thankful smile, finishing off her coffee, before she looked up at the clock. She gave Santana a long goodbye hug, and started walking to the theatre, looking over the script as much as she possibly could, causing her to collide with several people on her short walk from the café to the theatre.
When she arrived, she greeted her cast, most of which she'd already met through chemistry readings and settled in the front row of the audience, smoothing out the script in her lap before she heard the familiar sound of the theatre door creaking open backstage.
Every cast member held their breath in anticipation, waiting to see who their new director would be. Everybody wanted the production to be perfect, and with the hope that they had the perfect cast, they simply needed a perfect director. It was when Rachel heard the sound of applause resonating from the cast on the stage, that the brunette let go of a relieved sigh, more than happy that they seemed to have a good director, if the reaction from her cast mates was anything to go by.
The brunette rose to her feet, making her way up onto the stage to meet her mystery director, offering to polite smiles for those men and women who separated to let the petite girl though. When she'd finally made her way to the front of the crowd, Rachel froze.
There in front of her, stood the very same man she'd woken up to two mornings ago. With the perfect dirty-blonde hair, the golden eyes and a light layer of stubble that almost made her go weak in the knees.
"It's great to meet all of you," Quinton announced, glancing over the room. "I'm Quinton Fabr-"
The man cut himself off. There, in the middle of the entire cast, stood the girl he'd married. His wife. He was sure he'd never see the girl again, but sure enough, there she stood, ten feet away from him.
"F-Fabray," he corrected, shaking his head of all thoughts. He had to at least appear professional. "I... I hope we can all work well together, and that this production comes out the best way possible."
Rachel was sure her mouth had gone dry, looking over at her cast mates as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was almost positive that it was written all over her face, and when the group broke; everybody wandering off to retrieve their scripts, Rachel almost stormed over to the blonde.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She whispered.
"Working," Quinton answered, with a roll of his eyes.
"You're a director? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did. You obviously don't remember though, since I told you before we were married." Quinton muttered.
Rachel shushed him, bringing her finger up to his impossibly soft lips. "Keep it down."
"Oh... Yeah, I forgot. I'm your dirty little secret, God forbid anybody finds out."
Rachel sighed, deflating as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can we at least be civil? I have nothing against you, and I actually quite like you. I don't want to argue like-"
"A bitter divorced couple?" Quinton interjected. "Because you are going to marry somebody you clearly don't love?"
"You don't know a thing about me," Rachel growled.
"You're right, I don't. I'm not all too sure why I married you."
Rachel surely shouldn't have been so affected by those words, after all, she'd convinced herself that it was all nothing but a drunken mistake, even if she had a connection to this man. But the blonde's words made the girl falter, and Quinton saw it; he immediately felt guilty for his words, but before he could even think about apologising, Rachel had walked away.
"Rachel..." Quinton called after her with a small frown, only to be met with a raised hand from the diva, who had already started on reading her own lines.
Quinton pinched the bridge of his nose, letting go of a heavy sigh. For the past two days, he hadn't been able to get Rachel out of his mind, and now, he'd upset her, after only a few minutes of talking to her - this job was not going to be easy.
He decided to distract himself by gathering a portion of the cast to the stage, to rehearse, trying his best throughout his time in the theatre, to get the girl alone, and attempt to apologise, but Rachel merely walked away whenever her got close.
"You are being ridiculous," Quinton grumbled, when finally, it was just the two of them left inside the theatre.
"Is that yet another reason, why you don't know the reason for marrying me?" Rachel raised a brow, turning around with her arms over her chest.
"I'm trying to apologise to you, but you're too stubborn to let me," Quinton growled.
"You hurt my feelings," Rachel spat. "What do you expect?"
"Why do you care what I say? You're engaged to somebody else."
"Then why do you care, if I hear your apology or not?"
Quinton was left speechless, while Rachel simply walked out, and back home to Brody. He thought over that question again, and again. He had no clue why he cared, if he thought about it. He'd constantly tried to reassure himself that it was simply a crush, or rather nothing more than an attraction; that there was no way he could develop feelings for somebody, over the space of a few hours.
"Just a crush," Quinton whispered to himself, holding the photos of both him and Rachel, that he hadn't bothered to throw away, before those photos were hidden away, back in his wallet, while the blonde made his way back through the city to his apartment.
"You're kidding?" Santana gasped dramatically.
"He's being a complete asshole too, I don't get it. I didn't do anything wrong," Rachel whined, taking the glass of wine that Brittany offered her. "Thank you."
"You mean, besides marrying him?" Santana asked. "I mean, of course, you were both drunk out of your mind, but obviously there was something there. He's probably just bitter that he'd not going to get a chance."
"Okay, I am so lost, could you catch me up?" Came Brittany's voice, tucking herself into Santana's side.
Santana offered up a soft smile, before nodding. "Thursday night, Rachel and I went to Vegas, for a long weekend, for her bachelorette party, just me and her," Santana explained. "On Friday, after a day of shopping, and a nice dinner, when I met you, Rachel also met this Quinton guy, who she happened to marry, and sleep with, despite the fact that she's already engaged."
Brittany raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips in thought as she quietly listened to Santana.
"It's complicated, babe. I'll explain the engagement another time," Santana said, and Brittany simply nodded."Anyway, the next morning, when they woke up, both hung-over, they had a little talk, and they parted ways, after agreeing that blondie was going to get an annulment," Santana said. "They thought they'd never see each other again, but it turns out, that Quinton is her new director."
"Oh, well that has to be awkward," Brittany nodded, offering Rachel a sympathetic smile. "But don't you think it's best, if you're going to be spending a lot of time with him, to be civil? Like, I know it's awkward with him and everything, but it'll be easier if you get along, rather than fighting like-"
"An old married couple," Santana added, with a teasing smirk.
"God, you're already finishing each other's sentences," Rachel rolled her eyes.
"Well, we are married, technically speaking," Santana replied.
"Excuse me?" Rachel responded, as her jaw dropped.
"Like you and lover-boy, when we were in Vegas, Brittany and I kind of... Got married," Santana explained.
"And you thought to only tell me this now?" Rachel asked, in disbelief.
"Well, you were kinda having a crisis of your own," Brittany smiled.
"Well, that's no excuse. Are you both happy about this? I mean, I know it's soon, but you both seem perfectly happy together."
"I think it was meant to happen," Brittany answered for the both of them. "I mean, I wouldn't have said yes, if it wasn't. So, we decided today, that I'm going to move out here."
Rachel was speechless. She was in awe of the trust the two of them had in each other, after only knowing each other, for just three days. It was then that she thought about Quinton. It should have all been this simple with him, yet it was completely complicated.
"Well, I think I'll leave the two of you to it. I have to get home to Qui- Brody. I have to get home to Brody," Rachel breathed, shaking her head.
The sympathetic smiles of both women didn't go unnoticed as she let herself out. It was ridiculously obvious how conflicted she was, but she knew she'd have to both choose Brody, and swallow her pride, so that she could at least get along with Quinton, though as the night went on, Rachel couldn't be sure why she'd have to choose Brody. He barely even looked at her, so it was no surprise, that even after she'd washed her make-up off, he didn't spot the large hickeys. She simply put it down to him being busy, or stressed.
It was the next morning, during her walk to the theatre, after her usual morning coffee with Santana, that Rachel decided to take the bull by the horns, and try to be civil with Quinton. She'd made a point, to arrive at the theatre, before anybody else, so she could simply talk to the blonde alone.
"Quinton, can I talk to you?" Rachel asked, her voice small and almost timid as she stepped up to the man.
"Yes, Miss Berry?" Quinton replied, coolly.
"I wanted to apologise. A-about yesterday," she murmured, offering out her hand politely. "I was thinking maybe I could buy you a drink, as an apology."
Quinton paused for a moment, staring down at Rachel's hand, before he met those deep, mocha orbs that he'd stared into on his wedding night. I appreciate it, but no thank you."
Rachel's brows furrowed in confusion. She'd swallowed her pride, and apologised, despite the fact that he was the one, who'd hurt her feelings, and now, her apology hadn't even been accepted, and when Quinton walked away, leaving Rachel alone on the stage, while the rest of her cast mates filed in, she couldn't help but wonder, what had happened, to her Prince Charming.
A/N: Wow, thank you for all of the feed back, from my first chapter. I do appreciate it a lot. I'll always try to update as quickly as possible, and your follows/favourites are always appreciated. Reviews too.