Chapter 2! Thanks to all who reviewed!

I don't own Glee, I KNOW x(

Jesse St. James walked through the halls of Carmel, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. He was in such high spirits that not even the glares of the kids who he had egged could bring him down (he felt guilty about egging them, of course, but it's not like he had a choice). He opened his locker, still smirking, before acknowledging Giselle.

She, too, was in Vocal Adrenaline. Having excellent dance and leadership skills, she made an excellent second in command. She had great power over the others- granted, not as much as him, but still enough to keep them in control, and it was useful.

"I have terrible news," she said gravely, the bags under her eyes more pronounced than usual. Jesse rolled his eyes; usually Giselle's terrible news had something to do with the something stupid, like their costumes being 'the wrong shade of blue'.

"Please, Giselle, do tell," he said sarcastically, shoving his Economics book into his locker. Giselle paused dramatically before saying, as grave as could be:

"We don't have a female lead."

Jesse fought back a gasp, leaning against the locker next to his as he stared, wide-eyed and accusatory, at Giselle.

"Don't joke about those kind of things!" he snapped, slamming his locker shut. Giselle sighed and placed her hands on her hips, leaning in slightly; it was the pose she usually took when she was about to dish some dirt.

"I would never joke about something like this, Jesse!" She tossed her hair annoyingly and glanced around suspiciously, as if expecting someone to jump out and arrest her for spreading gossip. She took a deep breath before continuing. "I was staying a little late at practice to get down that complicated move with the one-eighty... And I overheard Coach talking to a mom from booster club about how all the audition-ees sucked and if we didn't find a good enough person soon, she would give the role to Melissa!"

Jesse's eyes widened and he rested his head against his locker, panic flooding his body. "Melissa?" he demanded, his voice dripping anger. "She sucks! She couldn't keep up with me if her life depended on it!" Suddenly, an image of Rachel humming along with Streisand popped into his head, and Jesse straightened, looking Giselle in the eye, his gaze intense.

"What about Coach Corcoran's daughter?" he suggested. "I mean, they're so alike... She must have gotten her talent, right?" Giselle beamed at him like he had just told her that she was going to be sole captain of Vocal Adrenaline.

"That's perfect! She's an amazing singer! How could I have forgotten? She's so great, Jesse! Just as talented as you are!"

"How do you know?" Jesse asked, stung that she thought someone's talent rivaled his own, and jealous that she had heard Rachel's voice before he had gotten to.

"I was at Coach's house, helping her with the choreography for the Highway to Hell routine, and I overheard her singing Don't Rain on My Parade. It was amazing, I just stood there staring for like, two minutes before she turned around and caught me. We have to get her to join, Jess, we would blow them away even more at Nationals!" Her face slowly sagged and she gave an annoyed sigh. "But she hates Vocal Adrenaline. She told me that about a thousand times when she was telling me off for eavesdropping. She'd never join, she despises us."

Jesse smirked and slung his bag over his shoulder, a plan already formulating in his devious mind as he whipped out his phone, composing a text to Shelby.

Hey, where does Rachel take jazz/ballet?

Rachel walked into the ballet studio, making sure to wave goodbye to her mother as she drove away.

Taking in the familiar surroundings, Rachel waltzed over to her favorite spot on the bar, right under the air conditioner and at the corner, so she could get two perspectives as she danced. She placed her hand on the golden rail, lifting her leg to stretch her hamstrings. She heard a quiet, familiar voice in her ear and jumped, almost falling flat on her back.

"Well, if it isn't Rachel Berry. What a pleasant surprise."

"Jesse," Rachel gasped, placing her hand over her heart, which was beating twice as fast as usual. Jesse chuckled, smiling innocently down at her. The young ingénue rolled her eyes and continued to stretch, trying to ignore him. Unfortunately, her nagging curiosity got the best of her.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, standing gently on her toes, her arms stretched out in front of her to form a circle. She watched his expression carefully, looking for a reason to be suspicious.

"I needed a place to learn ballet and jazz, so here I am," he said simply, stretching as Rachel had before.

"You're a beginner?" Rachel asked incredulously, standing flat on her feet as she leaned down to touch her toes. She came back up to see Jesse smirking smugly at her.

"Yes, I am. But I'm such a terrific dancer that I can keep up," he said surely, copying Rachel's actions easily.

"Jesse, this is a very advanced class. I've been learning ballet for ten years, and I still have trouble keeping up." This was a lie; Rachel understood the moves and executed them perfectly, but Jesse would make a fool of himself if he tried. Rachel's eyes widened and she smiled; this might be a once in a lifetime chance to see Jesse St. James, golden boy of Carmel, look like a fool.

"I can handle it, Rachel," he said, a little patronizing. Rachel grinned wickedly and took a sip of water as the teacher started setting up.

"We'll see," she said in a sing-song voice, still grinning like the Cheshire cat. Jesse smirked, looking excited to take on the challenge.

"Bring it, Berry."

By the time ballet was over, Jesse was a violent shade of red and Rachel was nursing an injured foot, though she had a highly amused look on her face.

"I told you that class was advanced," she giggled, limping over to the crosswalk. Jesse ran up to her, his brow furrowed with concern as he watched her walk carefully on her injured ankle.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, stopping her by placing a hand on her shoulder lightly. She turned to face him, an exasperated look on her face.

"I'm going to my jazz dancing class, Jesse. It's right there," she pointed a to a studio about one block away, "And I can handle the two minute walk just fine. She tried to keep walking, but suddenly her legs were knocked out from underneath her. She fell into Jesse's waiting arms, and it took her a moment to realize what had happened: Jesse had literally swept her off her feet, and was now carrying her bridal style.

"Put me down!" she demanded, slapping him on the chest. Jesse rolled his eyes and tightened his grip a little, though he looked highly amused.

"Rachel, I dropped you. You probably sprained your ankle. I refuse to let you walk, much less participate in strenuous activities."

Rachel could tell he wasn't going to let her go, so she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, making sure he didn't drop her again, though she highly doubted it; he was obviously strong, carrying her as if she weighed ten pounds. She studied his face and her face sagged a little; he looked upset.

"I'm not mad, you know. Some ibuprofen and a bit of rest and I'll be fine," she assured, resting her head on his shoulder and smiling up at him. He smiled down at her, though he still looked a little guilty. Rachel realized how couple-y they must have looked, and Noah's face flashed in her mind, and her stomach twisted with guilt when she realized how little that affected her.

"You should be," he said with a bit of humor in his eyes. "If someone dropped me, I know I'd be pissed."

"I guess I'm just more forgiving than you," she teased as Jesse set her down lightly on the bench, sitting next to her and lifting her feet to rest in his lap. She smiled gratefully at him and got as comfortable as possible on the hard stone bench.

"I guess you are," he chuckled, shaking his head slowly. He seemed to be getting over his embarrassment. A mischievous glint entered his eyes, and he smiled casually, resting his arms on the back of the bench. "You're a pretty good dancer."

Rachel stiffened slightly, suspicion creeping up, but she smiled proudly and nodded. "Dancing is my passion. I love singing, too, and I plan to be on Broadway someday."

"Are you any good at singing?" he asked, that glitter in his eye growing more pronounced as Rachel's suspicion grew stronger. She ignored it, though; she was just being paranoid, and she loved getting the chance to tell people about her dream.

"I'm wonderful, actually. My star qualities are the most important thing in my life. That's probably what drew me to Puck; a fellow star is always good in my books. Though," she sagged a little, "He isn't serious about it. He doesn't care about being a star, and it's such a shame, because he has a good voice. Not as good as me, but he has potential."

"If you want to be a star so badly, why not just join Vocal Adrenaline?"

Rachel's eyes widened and she gasped, standing up and crossing her arms in anger. She ignored the pain in her ankle and stared him down, her chocolate eyes glaring into his with such fierceness that she was surprised she wasn't burning a hole in his head.

"My mother put you up to this!" she snarled, her eyes wide as she bit back the curse words dangling on the tip of her tongue. "You stalked me to convince me! I bet you didn't even need a ride!"

"Rachel, calm down," he said slowly, looking surprised at her reaction. "Your mother didn't put me up to anything, and the idea just popped into my mind. I'm sorry I brought it up, I didn't know it was such a sore subject for you."

"It is a sore subject! You Vocal Adrenalites egg people, mock them, deride them because they're not exactly like you! I want nothing to do with that," she said stiffly. Her ankle screamed in protest as she turned on her heel and stormed away, walking normally even though she felt like she was going to pass out from pain. Dialing her mom's number on her phone, Rachel pressed the phone to her ear, waiting impatiently for her mother to answer. Jesse caught up with her and wrapped his arm around her waist to support most of her weight, making sure she didn't hurt herself further.

"Mom, can you come pick me up? I hurt my ankle in ballet, so I can't really go to jazz anymore. Jesse won't let me," she pouted like a petulant child, causing Jesse to laugh quietly before snatching the phone out of Rachel's hand.

"Sorry, ma'am, just making sure she doesn't injure herself further. She's walking around, but it's obvious she's in pain." He paused and listened to Shelby speak for a moment before continuing. "Yes, ma'am, I'll see you soon."

Jesse grinned devilishly before picking Rachel up again and carrying her to the bench, sitting her in the same position as before. She glared at him as they sat in stoic silence for what felt like eternity before Shelby arrived. Rachel and Jesse climbed in the car, making sure Rachel's feet were elevated properly in Jesse's lap, before Rachel broke the silence.

"Thanks for being so caring, Jesse," she said, though it looked like she had tasted something bitter. He chuckled and shrugged easily, and Rachel relaxed a little.

"It's the least I can do after I dropped you," he laughed, though he looked a little guilty. Rachel grinned softly at him. "Besides, I needed some excuse to go through with your mother's wicked plans for me to seduce you into joining Vocal Adrenaline." Rachel pouted at his obvious teasing.

"You're infuriating," she told him petulantly. He snickered.

"You love it." Rachel opened her mouth to retort, but her mother said something before she should to stop their teasing.

"Who wants some non-dairy ice cream?"

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