Will had liked and admired Rachel for almost as long as he'd known her, and the liking part, in particular, had been growing increasingly strong. Days when he expected to see her after school were better than days when he didn't. Evenings after he'd seen her were better than evenings when he hadn't. It wasn't scientific, but he believed the correlation was strong. He found her sexy, as he knew every straight male faculty member still capable of an erection also did. He saw how they looked at her. Recently, he'd had a few unsettling sex dreams with her in a leading role. One day she wore her hair up and when he stood behind her in an empty choir room he contemplated kissing her neck. It was on his mind for days. And a few nights.

Her relationship with Finn bothered him in some vague way. Had it been because Finn was his boy, his project, and he knew she'd eventually break his heart? Then why was he a tiny bit pleased when she did precisely that? Actually he'd been a tad closer to euphoric than pleased. He commiserated with Finn, as a mentor should, but on this issue his heart wasn't in it. Will articulated all of these things and tossed the ingredients like a Caesar salad in his mind, over and over. But what did it mean? What should he do about it, if anything? She was seventeen and his student. His career could be at risk. She would soon be going places no boy at McKinley could follow. Could any man at McKinley? Could he?

I could have kissed her. She would have kissed me back. A real man would have just grabbed her and done it and that would have been that. But would a real teacher? Which am I? She'll come back, on her own. It has to be completely on her own. It'll be today, sooner rather than later. She has to, out of ego and pride. She has to if she wants me to think she's a woman who's not afraid to take what she wants, and she has to want me to think that. She has to if she's really Rachel Berry. I can wait. I can wait all day.

Rachel strode briskly down the hall and out the door to her car. She had no thoughts, her feelings were an incoherent jumble, her eyes couldn't focus. Her limbs and their controlling organs were dedicated to a single purpose: forward locomotion until she hit an immovable object. That object turned out to be her car, which refused to move without a key being inserted into the ignition and turned. That simple act was beyond Rachel's ability to perform, so she just sat there staring out the window at an empty parking lot in the gloom of a gray-brown near-winter morning, occasionally turning to look at the school door to see if Will might be running after her. He wasn't. Her car's engine wasn't turning over, but her mind slowly started to kick back in.

You wanted him. You thought of him a hundred times a day. Dreamt of him. Daydreamed of him. Masturbated to him. Thought of him when you were lying under Finn. But when he said yes, you froze, then ran from the headlights. Like a girl, like a child, like a deer. Girls can't ask to be with men. You idiot, you stupid, fucking idiot.

She banged her forehead hard against the steering wheel rim three times. Tears welled up.

Don't you dare cry. Bloody, stupid girl. You want a man? Be a woman. Go for twenty-two, graduate student, affair with a professor. Either age five years in the next five minutes, yes, a year a minute, or forget it. Forget him. Do it or forget it.

What would a woman do? Have the courage of your convictions. Go back to him. Walk, don't run. Give him the kiss he wanted, you wanted, make it better than he could have imagined. Then control yourself. Be a woman. No sex in the choir room between lead soloist and director. Oral counts. It would violate Ohio show choir Rule 4.2a. Good one. That's better. Smile. What will I say? I need a speech. No. Just say what you think, what you feel. The simple truth is mature, it's twenty-two. It's what a woman would say. And don't you dare cry.

Rachel applied some lipstick, dried her eyes, and practiced an air kiss in the rear view mirror. She took a glee group picture that included Will out of the glove compartment, told herself aloud that he wanted her, kissed his face in the photo, and got out of the car. The return trip was a march in 4/4 time, steady and deliberate. When she entered the choir room, Will was still sitting on the piano bench where she had left him. He looked up unsurprised, rose, and embraced her when she came to him and pressed her opened lips to his. The passion of the kiss permeated their skin, spread like an internal hemorrhage through their bodies to their loins and their brains. Will's palpable arousal was no embarrassment, rather a source of pleasure and some amusement for both, and Rachel reminded herself of Rule 4.2a to maintain a semblance of decorum. The Kiss was repeated several times, and when both parties became convinced they had gotten it right and that a bed was a more suitable and comfortable place for complete and repeated consummation, they held each other upright in a secure and locked position. Rachel took his left arm off her back, kissed the palm of the hand and put it on her right breast, then kissed his mouth. She thought it's what a woman would do. It turned out to be what Will wanted.

"What happened to your forehead?"

"I accidently hit a… I was hitting it against the steering wheel. There was a screw loose. In my head. I'd been a stupid girl."

"Emotions can do that to anybody."

"Love and sex?"

"Especially."

"I wanted to be a real woman for you."

"That would be a first."

"That I'd behave like a real woman?"

"No, that I'd have one."

"Watch what you say about my mother."

"I didn't have her."

"It was a closer call than you may have known. Then there would have been nothing left for me. You'd have been roadkill."

"No offense, but she was a little scary."

"Then look out, mister, I'm a lot like her."

"I know. Should I be afraid?"

"No, just careful. I know it isn't easy for you, but try to be a little selfish. And thanks for waiting for me today, for trusting in me and not running after me. Did you expect me to come back?"

"Yes."

"Because you're irresistibly adorable?"

"Because you're Rachel Berry."

"And if I hadn't come back?"

"I was planning to wait ten more minutes before I called Tina. I guess I have a thing for cute little ethnic girls."

"Call her all you want, you bastard, but if you give her one more of my solos I'll kill you. Now come to my house. I'll make you dinner and breakfast."

"Your dads?"

"In Columbus until tomorrow."

"Your neighbors?"

"You're my choir director. They'll think we're practicing. We will be."

"What?"

"Love duets. Park your car in my garage. I'll have it open for you. Then come upstairs with me and do the same thing."

"You have a dirty mind, Rachel Berry."

"Oh, Will, you have no idea."

Author's End