Author's Note: Thank you so much to those of you who've commented on my story so far, it means a lot. I'm working on chapter four at the moment, so here's chapter two (chapter three will follow shortly), then after that you'll have to be patient with me as I'll probably only be able to update every few days... hope you continue to enjoy the story!
Chapter Two: New York State of Mind
Quinn was brought rudely out of her reverie by a furious banging on the bathroom door.
"Quinn, did you drown in there?" Rachel demanded, unleashing another volley of pounding that caused Quinn to rush for the door before she invoked the wrath of Santana again. She took a deep breath and hoped that she looked natural before turning the catch and pulling the door towards her. Rachel stumbled in and Quinn staggered backwards against her weight.
She grabbed Rachel's forearms to steady her then smiled sweetly and side-stepped around her, catching Kurt's amused smirk from his vantage point in the living area out of the corner of her eye.
She looked around at the huge open-plan loft curiously. She'd seen it before but she'd barely had chance to take it all in before Rachel had dragged her off to NYADA, desperate to show off the school, and by the time they'd gotten home that night it was so late that they'd all just crashed. She'd taken the first train back to Connecticut in the morning to get back in time for her first class. And Santana hadn't been living here then, so things had changed a bit. Quinn could see evidence of all three personalities in the décor and it made her smile. The place felt homely, far more so than her childhood home ever had, and she began to feel confident that she'd made the right decision not to go home to Lima.
Rachel was anxious to get Quinn unpacked so she could start playing tour guide, so Kurt was roped in to help fetch and carry things from the car. Rachel grumbled endlessly about the lack of help from Santana but after innumerable trips they were done and everything Quinn owned lay in a heap on the living area floor. Rachel had magnanimously (as she was quick to point out) cleared some closet space for Quinn, but after much discussion it was decided that the only option for Quinn's multitude of boxes of books was to stack them on the floor by the wall.
Santana emerged just as they were finishing up and, from the smirk on her lips, Quinn suspected that it was not at all coincidental.
"So, are you sleeping with Berry or Lady Hummel?" Santana queried pointedly as she sat on the kitchen counter eating a piece of toast, ignoring Rachel's glares and pleas for her to please find a more appropriate place to sit.
"Um, I guess I'll take the couch," Quinn said, her cheeks coloring slightly. "Blaine's here next week so Kurt's bed will be um… occupied… and Rachel needs her rest for her big Broadway debut."
Santana chuckled to herself and Quinn realized that she was being teased.
"Don't pay any attention to Santana," Rachel chastised. "She doesn't begin to become anything like human until at least three in the afternoon these days. There's no point engaging with her until then." She turned away from Santana and rolled her eyes, and Quinn had to fake a coughing fit to cover up the giggle that escaped her lips when Santana made a particularly rude gesture behind the other girl's back.
"Bite me, Berry," Santana muttered, but her eyes were playful.
"You wish," Rachel shot back. Quinn felt a pang of loneliness to see that her friends had all become so close whilst she'd been trying to forge a new life for herself at Yale. Sure, she'd made some friends, and been on a few dates, but it was all superficial and she hadn't found anybody worthy of letting her barriers down for so far. Letting people in didn't come easy to Quinn, but this group of people had seen her at her best and her worst and they still wanted her in their lives. That meant a lot to her.
Feeling like she'd caught some of Rachel's earlier energy and enthusiasm, Quinn suddenly jumped to her feet and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress, and announced that she was now ready for the Rachel Berry New York tour.
Santana snorted and shook her head.
"You're going to regret that, Blondie," she sing-songed, before swinging her long legs, leaping lightly down from the counter top and stalking off in the direction of the bathroom.
Five long hours later, Santana's prediction had been proven accurate. Quinn's feet hurt, her back hurt, and the dust and fumes from the traffic were beginning to make her contact lenses irritate her eyes. She'd been to Times Square, received a guided (and detailed) tour of the outside of several Broadway and off-Broadway theaters, and visited a tiny diner somewhere in mid-town where Rachel swore blind she'd seen Robert Downey Junior a week earlier. As she trailed behind Rachel on the fifteen block hike up to Tiffany's, Quinn began to question exactly what Rachel felt constituted the "real" New York. So far, as interesting as everything was, Rachel had only taken her to the regular tourist traps. What was worse was she insisted on them walking everywhere so that Quinn could see the city.
Now, Quinn was tired, hungry, and dirty, and seriously regretting ever having accepted Rachel's offer to play tour guide. The only things that kept her from snapping at the brunette were Rachel's obvious child-like delight at showing Quinn her favorite sights, and the knowledge that Rachel had an evening rehearsal so their tour was coming to an end anyway. She'd also convinced Rachel to stop off in a bar for a short time, mostly so that she could rest her aching feet, but she'd also made good use of her fake ID to order herself a Manhattan – well they were in Manhattan after all and it really did help to take the edge off.
Quinn knew she had the next two months to explore the city so she could afford to indulge Rachel just this once. She'd clocked a couple of interesting looking second-hand bookstores that she planned to return to as soon as Rachel let her off the leash.
When the girls arrived back at the loft, Kurt was out at a birthday dinner for a friend of his, and Santana was nowhere to be seen. Rachel had taken one look at the clock, squealed, and dived for the bathroom to take a shower. On the subway ride back to the loft, Rachel had apologised profusely for leaving Quinn on her own on her first night in New York.
"Sometimes a young Broadway ingénue just has to make sacrifices," she'd explained, and then glared huffily when Quinn dissolved into giggles.
Quinn had reassured her that she'd be fine.
"I just want to get an early night," she'd said truthfully. "I haven't been sleeping too well lately." Luckily, Rachel accepted her comment at face value and didn't question what had been keeping her friend up at night.
Quinn settled down on the couch with her book and by the time Rachel emerged from the shower, she was so engrossed in the plot that her friend's voice made her jump.
"I brought you some blankets," Rachel was saying when Quinn looked up from the page. By the look on Rachel's face, she'd said it at least once already. Quinn accepted them with an apologetic smile and luckily Rachel was in too much of a hurry to get into a sulk about Quinn ignoring her.
She'd perfected the art of drowning out the world by getting lost in a book, way back in Sophomore year in Glee Club, telling herself she was using it to avoid getting caught up in the inane lives of her fellow Glee Clubbers, but somewhere along the way she'd realised that she really did love to read. Other people's lives always seemed somehow preferable to her own, even when she'd been at the very top of the high school pecking order.
"Kurt and I are usually pretty quiet when we come in, but Santana is… well, Santana," Rachel explained with an apologetic shrug.
Quinn nodded knowingly.
"The pizza menu's on the fridge," Rachel continued, as she straightened her dress and searched for her keys. She paused by the front door. "Are you sure there's nothing else you need?"
"I'll be fine," Quinn assured her with a grin. "Just go, break a leg, okay!"
And with that, Hurricane Rachel swept out of the building, humming a tune that Quinn didn't recognise at a somewhat irritatingly loud volume. Quinn shook her head and sighed; then she picked up her cosmetics bag and rummaged in a box she hadn't yet unpacked to find some pajamas before heading for a long overdue shower.
Thirty minutes later, Quinn emerged with dripping hair and aching rather than throbbing muscles. She searched her bag for the glasses she almost never wore, except for reading before she went to sleep. Her eyes were still scratchy from traffic pollution and lack of sleep over the last few days.
She was past the point of hunger but she shuffled into the kitchen and was studying the pizza menu absently, when a noise behind her suddenly made her acutely aware that she wasn't alone.
She turned with a start to see Santana emerging from her sleeping area, and instantly cursed under her breath as Santana took in her less than pristine appearance. Even at teenage sleepovers, Quinn had always dressed immaculately, choosing pretty cotton pajamas and choosing a night of blurred vision and vanity over admitting she needed her glasses. Santana had never seen her wearing slouchy sweats and glasses before, and Quinn was bashfully aware that the wet patches on her cream-colored vest from her dripping hair verged on indecent.
Santana on the other hand was wearing the shortest gold shorts Quinn had ever seen, coupled with a flowing black off the shoulder top that seemed to accentuate all of her impressive curves. Her sandals were delicate and stiletto-heeled, and her hair was lose and flowing down her back in soft waves.
"Rachel said you were at work tonight," Quinn said stupidly, as she crossed her arms across her chest in a vain attempt to regain a shred of modesty.
"I'm going now," Santana explained, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I'd invite you but, well, you're not really dressed for it."
Quinn flushed scarlet and prayed for the floor to swallow her.
"I came home to change while you were in the shower," Santana continued, as she checked her lipstick in a tiny compact mirror that she'd somehow managed to extract from a pocket in her shorts. "I called to you, but I guess you didn't hear me." She shrugged and, satisfied with her appearance, tucked the mirror away. "Gotta go, don't wait up," she said breezily and skipped lightly to the door. Then she paused and bounded back over to where Quinn still stood with her arms still folded over her chest. With gentle fingers she reached out a tucked Quinn's damp hair behind her ear; then she leaned forwards and brushed her lips nonchalantly against Quinn's cheek.
"I love the glasses, Q, they're cute," she said, wrinkling her nose, in a way Quinn guessed was meant to convince her that she was teasing rather than mocking her.
Then she was gone and Quinn was left to agonise over the brief exchange, all thoughts of an early night suddenly out of the window. Every time that Quinn thought she had her feelings towards Santana all rationalised out, she wound up right back where she started and more confused than ever. She touched the spot where Santana's lips had grazed her cheek thoughtfully, revelling in the memory of the caress. She didn't know why Santana had such a hold over her, but she knew one thing for sure… there was no way she could continue to fight it.