To GLEEKnessSite, Yes, yes it is. It is set after Special Education and onward. :)

She corners him one day in the cafeteria a week after the auditorium invitations. He just grabbed his lunch and was about to head over his usual spot where he eats with Mike when suddenly she came out of nowhere and stood in front of him, blocking his way.

She glares up at him, her mouth set on a thin line as she straightens up her stance.

"Hey uh, Rachel . . ." he says awkwardly as he shifts from foot to foot.

"Finn." She says his name sternly. "You've been avoiding me all week long," she tells him, pursing her lips after every few words. "I have sent you notes and I refuse to believe that you did not get the chance to read all of them." Her voice is deadly calm and cold that it kind of makes Finn wince. When did she start to talk like this? He's pretty sure he's ever seen her this cold before.

"I . . . Uh, I . . ." He struggles for a valid excuse, but he realizes that he has none.

She grabs him by the arm and pulls him to a slightly isolated corner and crossed her arms across her chest once they sat down on a table opposite each other; face-to-face.

"Admit it, Finn," she says, and her voice is now quiet and soft. "You've been trying your hardest to stay away from me." She refuses to meet his gaze as she ducks down a little and taps her forefinger on the table, all of a sudden sounding so lost and nervous."I just . . . I feel frustrated, Finn. Aggravated. I've been trying hard to reach out to you and resolve things so we can build up a friendship again — or maybe even just have closure — but you keep on turning me away!" She's not yelling, but her voice is very prominent in the atmosphere between them and as it echoes around him, he feels a bit remorseful.

"And I need to know why, Finn," she continues. "I'm trying so hard but you just won't help me." She sounds like she's whining now, but her eyes are still focused on the table as he looks at her with wide, taken aback eyes.

"Rachel -"

"It's – It's almost like you're creating this barrier between us and no matter how hard I try to break it, it just won't budge because – because you're too strong and you – you still have this silly little effect on me," she admits. He sees a few tears drop onto the table and she quickly wipes at her eyes hastily.

He moves his tray onto the far left side of the table as he reaches out his right hand to put atop her left one. "I - I'm sorry," he bids. It's sincere but short, he knows, but at the moment that's all he can offer — all he can manage, because he's still so, so hurt, and he thinks that as they speak, the wounds she had caused him are opening up and are being raw again.

She looks up and studies his face, seemingly looking for something there as she stares at him expectantly.

And then she shakes her head sadly, stands up, turns, and leaves.

He wonders what she was looking for in his face, because whatever it was, it seems like she didn't find it at all.

For a change, she is the one doing all the avoiding all throughout this week. The worst part is that she isn't exactly being very subtle about it. Like, whenever he tries to talk to her, she pretends as though she doesn't see nor hear him. It's really annoying, to be honest.

And one more thing — each time they see each other in the hallway, she will purposefully turn the other way so that she doesn't come across him. It's starting to confuse the fuck out of him.

What is her problem?

One moment, she's the one chasing him around like a lost puppy, and he's the one pushing her away. And then another moment, he's like the dog chasing the cat — her — around. He doesn't miss the irony of it all.

But then it hits him like a train on a track.

That's it.

Maybe she's tired of going all over him and pursuing him — tired of following him and begging for his forgiveness and attention.

Except there shouldn't really be any 'maybe' in that statement. He knows it's true; she's tired of playing this silly cat-and-dog chase with him.

After all, they're not kids anymore. They're grown-ups that have grown-up problems.

He can't believe he's doing this, but the next week he finds himself scribbling down a note on a piece of paper, ready to slip the piece to her locker. (Yes, he also knows her combo. He used to get her the spare clothes she brings for whenever she gets slushied.)

He soon opens her locker and slithers the small piece of paper in her planner, right where she's sure to see it.

Hey Rachel. (He refuses to call her Rach, because he actually gave her that nickname right after they labeled each other as boyfriend-and-girlfriend.) Are you avoiding me? –Finn

The question is stupid, he knows, but it's what he put anyways.

He closes her locker then, and leaves for his next class.

(*-*)

He has Chemistry with her, and her seat is right next to his.

She passes him a note as Mr. Henry writes something on the board.

Frankly, yes.

He winces and asks, Why? and slips the note to her.

She doesn't get to reply because Mr. Henry is now facing them and discussing whatever topic they are currently tackling.

He finds her reply in his locker after football practice.

I'm tired of our routine, Finn. I'm tired of me chasing and you avoiding.

He cringes as he reads the note again on the way out of the school building.

She's tired. Now that he's finding it in his will to talk to her, she's tired.

He sighs and walks to his truck to get home. He's stressed out; football practice and Rachel-and-Finn dilemma all in one day don't mix quite well.

He and Rachel really screwed up, didn't they?

He actually wants to fix everything between them, too; he wants to start at least a small friendship.

He just doesn't know how.

Again, I don't know if I am gonna finish this one. Feedback is the basis!

I was basically waiting for at least five reviews before I post this one, so that means I'm gonna wait for a specific number of reviews again before the third one!

In other news, check out my other stories if given the time :)

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