She arrives at the café Puck had told her to meet them and a table full of teenagers immediately catches her eye. She looks around and the only blondes she can find are either at Puck's arm, chatting away in an incredibly annoying voice or having breakfast together in a more secluded part of the table. She rolls her eyes behind her wayfarers while contemplating going all Lime Heights on Trouty's ass, but decided not to; Brittany seemed happy and her own jealousy breakthrough on Thanksgiving still made her feel guilty and, most of all, embarrassed.

She just sat as far away from the loving couple as she could and growled at the poor busboy. Her head was demanding some strong coffee.

"Beg your pardon." The busboy offered a smile in an attempt to please the costumer. The guy wore a stupid knit hat that didn't even cover the top of his head because half of the cloth was hanging loosely at the back of his head. There was a lot of white people shit that made Santana mad, but hipsters were just begging to be bitch slapped.

"I said I wanted some coffee." She glared down on the boy. "Or is it too mainstream for you?"

The guy stared at her for a moment and opened his mouth to reply. She raised an eyebrow – waiting for the hipster to give her a reason to destroy him. He just turned around and went back to his work.

"Snarky!" Puck remarked with an amused grin. "I see someone didn't get laid last night."

"Shut up, Puck." She spat.

"So I was right. Your bitchy temper always gets better when you have sex, you know." She decided that the bitchy temper wasn't an insult, after all. "That's what happens when you don't follow Puckzilla's Guide to picking up chicks."

"I don't remember shit about last night and there was nobody in my bed this morning, so I really hope I didn't have sex." Santana shrugs.

"Now that's more like it." Puck laughs heartily.

XXX

The blonde makes her way to the place Rachel had texted her. Just a nice diner, yet the jewish girl had to call it a deli. She chuckles to herself, wondering if Rachel had rubbed her new-yorkness on Santana. There. She was thinking about her again, but she couldn't help herself, she desperately needed to know how much the other girl remembered about the night before.

She easily spots the latina talking to Puck, both turning away from her. She approaches them, mustering up all of her confidence. Might as well deal with it like an adult, just like a band-aid; grip and rip.

"I don't remember shit about last night and there was nobody in my bed this morning, so I really hope I didn't have sex." She overhears Santana saying. Well that was some serious band-aid ripping. For a moment she just stood, too confused to do anything at all. What was that she was feeling?

She thought she would probably feel relief upon discovering Santana didn't remember anything. After all, their friendship would be saved and her own life, finally getting back on the tracks, wouldn't be turned upside down. Things were going so well for her at Yale… Good grades, invitations from sorority clubs, even though she was a freshman, and an adult, mature relationship –though a little adulterous -with a 35-year old professor. All she needed now was a fucking white picket fence and she would be the perfect, idealized Quinn: the person that had killed Lucy in order to rise above. Not the Quinn that got pregnant and kicked out and disowned, not the Quinn that didn't bother to wash her pink hair for days and smoked under the bleachers with all the high school skanks. No.

How dared Santana make her feel so confused and frustrated? And not even remember anything about it! Fuck relief, she felt angry.

Before she could do anything, a guy about their age wearing offensively skinny jeans got in the away.

"I'm sorry my colleague forgot to ask, how would you like your coffee?"

"She likes her coffee black," Quinn says nonchalantly, but with spite lacing her sweet voice. "But it doesn't have to, as long as it's lesbian and with no self-respect."

The man just gapes at the blonde. So that was the 'mean bitch' his friend had ran away to the kitchens from.

"Wanky." Santana says with a smirk. "Now chop-chop, before I have to breathe and smell whatever is in that hipster beard you stole from a middle-east dictator."

So there were two of those?! That was his cue to get out.

Hazel eyes stare at Santana's for a few seconds and Puck realizes he does not belong there.

"What is this, HBIC competition? I'm out." He says before leaving the two girls alone and going back to Kitty, that was talking enthusiastically to Rachel and Kurt, followed by respectively Finn and Blaine.

"So, really, Santana, no memories about last night?"

"None."

Quinn gets closer to Santana, so that nobody else could listen.

"You do not get to fuck me into oblivion and forget all about it." She says, fire in her eyes. She was not sure how the latina would react, but that cocky smirk was definitely unexpected.

"Into oblivion, huh?"

"So you do remember… Everything?"

"Everything." She pronounces the word while shooting the blonde a knowing look.

"You actually fooled me there, S. This way you're gonna get my place as the deceitful, scheming bitch."

"So I guess college did teach me a few things."

Quinn chuckles lightly, glad to see their friendship was not ruined.

XXXX

A/N: Hey guys, thanks a bunch for the reviews! I'm sorry this chapter took longer than I expected.

Next chapter will no longer be set in Ohio...

Thank you for reading and please leave reviews. ;)