A/N: Like I said, not a Spanish speaker. :/

Thanks about the tip on anonymous reviews! :D

Chapter 3

I scowled brutally at the huge cafeteria, my arms crossed defiantly across my chest, feet planted firmly in the archway that led from one of the various hallways to this particular dining hall. In front of me, all I could see was a sea of blond – all those Euro-Caucasian girls, a veritable mass of perfect identical Disney princesses. The occasional glint of red or brown was accompanied by deathly pale skin and bright blue or gray eyes. It was even more disconcerting that they all were wearing the same purple and white uniforms; dark purple cardigans over crisp white shirts, white and purple plaid knee-high skirts, shiny black shoes with white stockings. Quinn and I were the only ones wearing normal clothes – a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts for the blonde, with a black t-shirt, and myself in snug flare-legged jeans and a white peasant top. Quinn had paused beside me to take in the sight, though I doubted she noticed the same thing I did.

"C'mon, Santana," she muttered, wrapping her fingers around the crook of my elbow, and tugging me into that mass of giggling, chattering golden-haired females.

"What is with this place? It reminds me of Children of the Corn," I said, bitingly, though my tone was low. My brows furrowed darkly at every passing body, each more flawless and cookie-cutter than the last.

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asked quizzically, pulling me in line for the breakfast bar. It sported high class organic options, like scrambled eggs from free-range chickens and vegan muffins. Barf. I scowled at the whole grain bagels and soy milk cartons. Berry would probably be in heaven right now if she could see this spread.

"Oh, you know, just that we left reality and stepped into a twilight world where all the future Stepford Wives are groomed." I sneered, and decided on a plate of toast with some jelly. Nothing else looked even remotely appetizing. Quinn had been stacking her tray with a fruit cup, yogurt, and a breakfast sandwich. I raised my brow at her choice, and she just shrugged. We made our way to a small table tucked in the corner of the huge hall, the wave of feminine voices rising around us like the buzzing of a million cheerful bees.

Quinn was scanning the crowd, and then her eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, you mean –"

"Yeah, everyone here is white," I muttered, ripping open a packet of low fat whipped butter to spread with a black plastic knife on my toast. Quinn was looking at me again with that guarded face, which annoyed me to no end. I couldn't stand not being able to guess what she was thinking. I jerked my gaze to meet hers and then tilted my head. She blushed and dropped her gaze.

"It.. I.. guess I didn't notice right away." She took a bite of the hot sandwich.
"You wouldn't, Barbie. You should fit right in. These are all tu pueblo." I sneered. I owned my Latina heritage, though for all intents and purposes my family was far from living without plumbing and in dirt huts in South America. My mother and father still spoke fluent Spanish, and so do I, but some of my younger cousins never bothered to learn. I usually didn't care about things like the ethnicity of a person or a group of people, but I stuck out like a black goat in a herd of milk cows. Or something. And it pissed me off.

"Santana," Quinn said quietly, her voice full of warmth. "You're going to be okay. I thought you liked being different?"

I huffed, glaring daggers at her. Of course I like being different. But whitebread Quinn would never be able to understand what it's like – especially in places like Podunk, Ohio. The way some people could stare at you like you were trash. The things they would say to you just because you looked a certain way. I bet Quinn has never experienced a moment of prejudice in her life (barring all that teen pregnancy drama). And because she never judged anyone based on their skin or heritage, she assumed everyone else was as accepting. Sweet, but naïve, Blondie.

"Just drop it," I said, my tone flat. I tore into my toast, but it was too dry and it clogged my throat, making it hard to chew. I strangled down one bite and then took a sip of Quinn's water.

Quinn sighed, looking at me over her fruit cup. I could tell she was thinking, because her gaze kept darting from me to all the other girls who surrounded us, in pretty little seamless blonde cliques. I didn't doubt that within a week, Quinn would insinuate herself with the biggest group of top bitches here, and forget my name. Oh well. I shrugged resolutely. I had no intention of hanging on to Quinn's coattails. Quinn's one of those girls who has an incessant need to be the most popular, most well-liked, most well-respected girl in school. It was kind of neurotic, actually.

"I have an idea." She said suddenly, and pushed herself away from our table. She reached down, collecting her tray – which still had half its contents unopened on it – and then reached for my hand, dragging me up. I started at the gesture, but allowed myself to be brought to my feet.

"What are we doing?" I sputtered, as Quinn quickly threw her garbage away and then led us out of the mess hall. I was totally lost in this labyrinth of a school, so I trusted her, following her blindly down marble-floored corridors with rose-filigree wallpaper and past dozens of doors that stood open or closed. Finally, we reached the staircase landing, and she began the long ascent up to the fourth floor, her hand clamped tightly around mine, making me take quick, hurried steps to match her stride.

I was slightly winded when we reached our dorm room, and extremely flustered. She bounded in the door and began digging around in one of her drawers, tossing things like hair ties and socks onto the floor haphazardly.

"I understand why you think you would need to work off that breakfast you just ate," I said between some airy breaths, "But exactly what are we doing here?"

Quinn ignored me, until she finally jumped up, turning to reveal what this treasure hunt had been all about. My eyebrow shot up, a look of confusion crossing my face. "What? Fabray, have you lost your marbles?"

She held in her left hand a pair of scissors, and in the right, a box of hair dye. It took me a moment to understand the implications, but I immediately pressed my lips together and frowned at her. "Okay, no. There is no way I'm going to cut my hair and bleach it so I'll fit in with all those sun-kissed bimbos down there. Soy orgullosa de mí-"

Quinn's face lit up in a broad grin, the biggest one I'd seen since – well, maybe since last spring, right before she had her baby. It made my heart melt a little in response, though my face was set with steely resolve.

"It's not for you, silly," She said, and then walked into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar in invitation.

"I've been wanting to cut my hair for a while." She studied herself in the mirror, brushing aside a few stray strands of honey that fell across her forehead. "And the dye, well – it was going to be a statement, kind of. Like 'here's the new Quinn, fuck off,'" Her lips pursed in amusement at her own bravado. "I never went through with it though." She fingered the shiny cardboard box, and I came up beside her, crinkling my brow as I noticed the color of the lettering. Strawberry Shortcake.

"Oh, no, ella loca," I said, immediately backing away from her. "No way I'm down with this. You can't dye your hair pink. I bet the staff would have a conniption."

Quinn grinned devilishly, a look I hadn't encountered on her before. I felt myself responding to the glint of mischief in her eyes, and I returned her smile.

"Let them." Quinn shrugged, and in one fluid movement stripped her t-shirt off. I gulped at the sight of Quinn in a lacy white bra, swallowing the gasp of shock that wanted to escape. I don't think she noticed my eyes widening – but then again, how would I know? Quinn was a closed book.

"You do the honors, Lopez," She said, handing me the scissors handle first. I stared down at them like they were an alien species with a tendency to bite without provocation. Quinn had sat down on the toilet and turned away from me, combing out her long hair with her fingers until it fell in one long wave down her back. I always envied Quinn her beautiful hair. Mine – well, it looks good, but it takes a lot of work to get it this way.

"Are you sure?" I stepped a bit closer, trying hard to peel my eyes away from the delicate curve of Quinn's waist, the chisel of her ribs against her creamy skin. There were no traces of the pregnancy left on her body, except maybe for the pale webbing of stretch marks along her abdomen.

Quinn just nodded, her posture ramrod straight on the porcelain toilet.

"Okay, Fabray," I said, sucking in a deep breath. "But if you end up looking like Ellen, don't blame me. I never claimed to be a professional." I picked up a lock of hair and experimentally snipped off over half of the length.

"I trust you." Quinn said, simply. It made my throat tighten and something in my chest squeeze. Resolutely, I began snipping at her hair in earnest.

xxxxx

I couldn't stop laughing, and neither could she. The bathroom looked like a beauty salon explosion, with tufts of wheaten hair everywhere, clothes piled in the floor, wet towels and the discarded hair dye kit scattered across the vanity. It smelled strongly like chemicals in the tight space, and my throat tickled from it.

"Strawberry Shortcake?" I said, musingly. "It looks more like Pink Lemonade." I smiled at Quinn over her shoulder in the vanity mirror.

"I actually really like it," Quinn said, tugging at the ends of her hair that now curved in right above her shoulders, framing her face. I had given her a tuft of bangs that settled neatly against her forehead. The pink only covered the top layer of her hair – who knew that girl had so dang much of it? – and reminded me of what it looked like when me and Britt colored Britt's hair with highlighters in fifth grade. I grinned at the memory.

"Now all you need is a badass nose piercing and a trashy habit," I teased, lowering my eyebrows in a grin. Quinn smirked.

"Let's not get carried away, Lopez."

"What made you decide to go all rebel chic, anyway?" I asked, stepping away from her reflection and glancing around the bathroom. I had to distract myself from peering down at her flat stomach or the slight muscle tone that rippled beneath the golden skin of her arms, the gentle curve of her breast. I always knew Quinn was a pretty girl. We had spent summers at cheerleading camp together, sleep overs in our bedrooms, even spent time in the same dressing room at the mall. But it felt different now, somehow – now that it was just us, without the bubbly, perky buffer of Brittany to keep things light and casual.

Quinn just smiled. "Now you won't feel so.. out of place. We'll both be freaks."

My jaw dropped in instantaneous shock, but I quickly hid it by snapping my mouth closed and furrowing my eyebrows. "Q, you didn't have to do that." I was, for once, genuinely stunned at something Quinn Fabray said. It was like being splashed with cold water – or, rather, like being slammed by a full on slushie facial after a hot shower. I had to press my lips together to stop myself from looking like an idiot. I felt a sudden rush of warmth overtake my body, starting somewhere in my chest and then radiating out to my fingertips and toes, tingling along my skin.

"I know." Her voice was soft, and her eyes met mine in the mirror's reflection. "But we're friends, right?" It wasn't a question so much as a statement. I gave a slow nod. "Well, now we're in this thing together."

"For better or worse, Tinkerbell," I said, smiling softly. "You'll probably get suspended when they take one look at you."

Quinn began cleaning up the discarded hair dye kit, and then searched for some way to clean up the hair mess. "I highly doubt it," She sounded bemused. "My father definitely won't agree with my having pink hair, but there's nothing he likes more than snubbing his nose at authority. I think he'll appreciate the gesture." Her lips quirked upward, gently, though the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"I guess." I shrugged halfheartedly. I didn't know what else to do for Quinn. I know her family is a very sore subject for her. Last year, when her dad found out she was pregnant, he kicked Quinn out. Eventually Quinn's mom separated from him, and allowed Quinn to move back in after she had the baby. But Quinn kept in touch with her father, even though her parents were estranged. And I was guessing he was the one footing the bill for this high class, all female education.

I decided to put it out of my mind. Quinn didn't need me worrying about her parents – she did enough of that herself. Still, the gesture moved me: I didn't think Quinn had it in her to be so selfless. I knew that it was only a shallow attempt to help me feel more comfortable, but it worked, in a weird way. Now maybe she'd get more attention for being the crazy punk girl than I would for being the dark-skinned Latina. We'll see.

"Well, thank you," I said, quietly, biting on my lower lip. Quinn's eyes darted around to meet mine like I had started speaking in tongues or something. Her mutedly dazed expression revealed just how out of character the phrase was. It made me want to slap my defenses back up and growl out some snarky retort, but I struggled against the instinct and held back the slew of insults that begged to be released at her openly astonished appearance.

Slowly, she bent down to pick up a wad of hair, and then returned to the standing position before she responded. "You're welcome." Her words were guarded, as if she expected me at any minute to assault her verbally. If I wasn't so overcome with gratitude, I probably would have laughed. I enjoyed this response in people – it was the one I tried to foster in so many of my classmates. And until about twelve hours ago, I would have done a giddy little jig at being able to put Fabray on such an edge.

But I could feel things slowly shifting within me, feelings and emotions shoving around inside my chest, rearranging themselves to make room for Quinn Fabray. It was odd. I hadn't felt anything like this happen since.. well, ever. Brittany and I have been friends since before I can remember, so there was never any adjustment to be made. She was simply immune to the wrath that the rest of the world was the target of. Quinn, during freshman year, had been considered an ally for a while, so she only got what I call kid-gloves Snix. Then she got pregnant, and she dropped off my radar. Now, though.. hmm.

I shook it off, resolving to think about it later. "I guess we should probably get around to seeing where we pick up our Japanese business man fetishist uniforms."

xxxx

The school supply store was called the Wildcat Den. Its cheesiness made me want to barf. We're the Atherton Wildcats – so there was a fierce, but feminine, looking wildcat logo all over the school in purple and white. The store reminded me of one of those hospital gift shops, everything exorbitantly expensive and practically drowning in Atherton logos, wildcat paraphernalia, and only in the colors of white and purple. Gag me.

I bought five identical plaid skirts and two purple cardigans with white lettering, and two white ones with purple lettering. There was an option to buy a jacket but I opted out. I also added a stack of crisp longsleeved white shirts to my pile of clothing, with stockings and knee high socks. I was fiddling around with a display of key chains and bumper stickers when Quinn walked out of the dressing room and made a casual gesture to catch my eye.

Okay, so.. I think most everyone in this school looks like a preppy Barbie or a teenage Shirley Temple in these uniforms, but whoa. Quinn Fabray rocked it. I'm not sure how or why, but something about her in that chaste little outfit made my mouth water. I had to swallow my saliva and plaster on an approving smirk, trying hard to ignore the little flutter in my chest at the sight of her. Her hair, radically bright and clashing against the demure colors, gave her a distinctly punk-rocker look. She wore her white shirt untucked, with only three buttons in the middle fastened. The cardigan was folded over her arm, so she looked less like a drone than everyone else. Her eyebrow quirked at my expression, but she made no comment.

I didn't trust myself to speak, so I silently followed her to the checkout counter. The girl looked Quinn up and down, pressed her lips into a disapproving line, and rang us up without so much as a "have a nice day."

I chuckled as we left the shop, both of us – more or less – fitting in with the hive of girls who swarmed the school. My first impression that this was a place where rich white kids came together to be tutored into future senators, doctors, and lawyers was still very much in place. I checked my phone and noted that it was barely 9:30 in the a.m. We had the rest of the day to figure out this school.

"What's next, Q?" I asked, glancing down the corridors. The rest of the student body was arriving today, so there was a constant stream of older kids coming in the front, from around back, lugging suitcases and duffle backs up those winding stairs. I even caught glimpses of the elusive staff, all of them – it seemed to me – were older women with grave faces and gray hair pulled back into a strict bun. I wondered if there was any testosterone to be had, and rolled my eyes. If I was actually a lesbian like Quinn accused me of being, this would be like some kind of paradise.

Quinn studied the wall of glass doors that were directly in front of the entrance, tilting her head quizzically. "Well, we need to pick up our schedules. My dad faxed them my transcript last week and he texted me this morning to tell me I have enough credits to be considered a junior." She rolled her eyes.

"Uh, well, yeah, you are a junior." My tone was a little dubious.

"Here at Atherton they don't really go by how many years you're in school." Quinn said musingly. "They do it based on credits. You have the option to graduate early, if you don't fail," Her tone suggested that probably nobody ever did, "or stay on and get college credits as a senior."

"Hmmm." I let out a low hum. I've never failed a class, so probably I had enough credits to be considered a junior. My eyes widened. "Whoa, does that mean we could graduate this year?"

Quinn shrugged, smiled briefly, and then tugged me towards the frosted glass door that had REGISTRAR in white lettering. She pulled the door open and revealed a little office which both of us stepped into. The smell immediately reminded me of Principal Figgins' office back home – but the underlying spicy scent of curry was replaced by something flowery, maybe roses. A prim older woman sat behind a desk, huge glasses perched perilously on her face. A tiny golden chain connected the ear pieces together and dangled, blinking in the dim yellow light. She glanced up from her paperwork and let out a thick cough, as if the sight of us was somehow both startling and offensive. I tucked my lips into my mouth to repress my snicker.

"Hello," Quinn said chirpingly, her smile ingratiating. "My name is Quinn Fabray. This is Santana Lopez." She inclined her head to me and I nodded stiffly. "We're here to pick up our class schedules."

The woman coughed again, as if trying to clear her throat. She narrowed her eyes, first at Quinn's disheveled uniform and then at her glaringly pink hair, and rolled her eyes to examine me. I scowled right back at her, cocking an eyebrow defensively. I was wearing my uniform right – I think – but she still curled her lip in a disapproving sneer. "Do you have a—"

Quinn broke in. "Uh, any idea when they serve lunch?" Her tone was so warm and friendly it made me grimace. She put her palm against my forearm and squeezed briefly in warning, and I bit back the remarks that rolled around inside my head. My cheeks flushed with the effort.

"They start serving lunch at 11:30 sharp," The woman said, and then began shuffling through her filing cabinent, flipping through yellow manila envelopes. "Fabray, did you say?" She asked without looking up.

"That's right. Lucille Quinn Fabray."

I turned to stare at her, head slanted in question. Lucille? Really? Quinn rolled her eyes and flashed me a secretive grin. I just chuckled silently. Who knew there was so much to Quinn that nobody knew?

"And you?" The lady barked at me. My smile disappeared.

"Santana Lopez."

After a few more uncomfortable minutes of her sniffling and digging around inside of folders, she came up with two pieces of paper. She set them down carefully on the desk in front of her, refusing to hand them to Quinn or me. What, like something about us was contagious? Ugh. I turned and slapped my hand angrily against the glass door, pushing it open violently and stepping quickly out of the suffocating office. I doubt I would be able to smell roses again without thinking of the Lady Grim Reaper.

The schedule paper she gave me was on thick vellum paper, with the Atherton emblem punched in at the top in shiny lavender lettering. What, something as common as a student schedule had to have fancy paper? My thumb and forefinger ran over the corner of the sheet, wondering at the creamy texture, while Quinn walked up beside me.

"What classes do you have?" She asked, her green eyes scanning the sheet in front of her. I finally dropped my gaze to read my class list.

"Um, English III, world history, algebra II, and physics." I groaned inwardly. Physics? I had planned to take Biology II this year at McKinley – there was no way I was going to pass physics. "And uh, choir, computer programming, and study hall." I shrugged. I glanced over the paper and found the entry for grade level: 11. Phew. I wasn't abouts to go repeating any grades.

"That's almost identical to mine." Quinn flashed me a warm smile. "Except no computer programming. I'm taking health instead."

My eyebrow shot up. "Wanky."

xxxx

Turns out Atherton isn't that hard to navigate after all. At first appearance, it seems like a giant monolith of a school, but actually the layout makes perfect sense. The main building is where the cafeteria, auditorium, swimming pool, gymnasium, and administration offices are kept. To the left and right wings are the classrooms. The floors above the administration wing hold student housing and additional classrooms, along with student lounges, various libraries, computer rooms, game rooms and little snack bars. Quinn and I picked our way over the first floor, finding that our classrooms were mostly located on the third wing – with the sophomore student houses. Weird. Still, we had many of the same teachers, and we found out where those classrooms were and peeked our heads in. Then we traveled about, seeking out the classes we didn't have together. I tried to make a mental note of their location, but knew I would probably get lost. I wonder if this is how Brittany feels sometimes.

We stopped by a student-ran snack bar for lunch. I ordered a grilled chicken wrap and a diet Pepsi. Quinn got a ham and cheese panini, nacho flavored Doritos, and a Fruitopia. We sat together on a bench, amid potted plants, and watched the smaller congregation of girls swarm in and out of the little alcove. Large flat screen TVs were mounted on the walls on mute. I bit into my wrap and eyed Quinn as she noisily devoured her bag of chips.

"Fabray, did you get knocked up again?" I asked around a mouthful. She nearly choked and I laughed. "Just, you seem awfully hungry today."

Quinn scowled, taking a sip of her bottled drink. "Uh, no. I'm just done eating like a baby bird." She took a rueful bite of the hot sandwich. "Sue Sylvester isn't here to measure our waists anymore."

I nodded, but my eyebrows furrowed. I had been under the long-reaching whip of Coach Sylvester for so long, I had never ceased eating like she dictated. As a freshman I had gotten into the habit of limiting carbs, counting calories, and exercising daily. I always chose low-calorie options, avoided cheese and other dairy products like the plague, and refused all the sugary snacks Brittany had tucked inside her cheer jacket at all times. Brittany – one of those lucky girls who didn't have to work to keep thin. She could eat half a pizza and five king size Hershey's bars and end up weighing less than when she started.

Well, I shrugged, and finished my wrap. I almost never felt the hunger anymore that stayed present on the edges of my stomach. Old habits die hard. Quinn, noticing my silence, split off a hefty chunk of her panini and handed it to me wordlessly. I regarded it for a moment, noting the glisten of grease along the swiss cheese, before I scoffed. "Fuck it," I said quietly, and took the sandwich.

xxxx

We wandered around until midafternoon before we finally ventured towards the back of the campus, which opened into a sprawling paved courtyard. The flagstones were dotted with lush vegetation and picnic tables. There was a large group of girls gathered out here, sitting at the tables best shaded by the trees. Beyond the courtyard was a rose garden trimmed in with hedges. I could see a fountain shooting water up towards the sky in the distance, behind the shrubbery and flowers. Scanning the horizon, I could see a horse track to one side, as well as a soccer field. There was also an outdoor pool alongside the east of the complex.

"This place is incredible," Quinn whispered softly.

"It's something, all right," I muttered. She ignored me and tugged my hand, pulling me towards the group of girls. I stiffened. What was up with Q being all grabby lately? Not to mention I just wasn't in the mood to ingratiate myself with these chattering magpies. They all were perfectly groomed, glossy, and annoying. I figured that I'd make zero allies among the group of sunbathing blondes ahead of us.

Quinn surprised me though and instead of heading towards the group of girls, she went directly for the flower garden. We stepped beneath an arbor and were immediately surrounded by a pristine silence. It was like the thick hedges drowned out the outside world. The sun was making its slow descent into the west, casting long shadows. The smell was dazzling but a little overwhelming. There were flowers of all kinds here – none of which I could name. I just thought they were pretty. Quinn's face lit up like a kid on Christmas when she took in the full beauty of the place. I couldn't help but smile, too – it was contagious.

"It's so gorgeous." Quinn whispered, as if she was afraid her noise would damage the serenity of the place.

"It reminds me of the Secret Garden," I said, my tone matching hers. She didn't look at me, but began exploring the area slowly, taking in the sights.

I just watched her as she moved, tucking my hands in the pockets of my skirt. I sat down on a cement bench, my eyes trained on her figure. She stopped every so often, bending down to caress a flower petal or read the little plastic flag that told its name. I studied her, a little amazed at how she could be so composed and so fragile all at once. How is it possible to know someone for years and yet not truly know them?

Finally, as if slowly waking from a dream, Quinn turned to me, noticing for the first time that I wasn't with her. She smiled briefly when her eyes met mine, and then gestured with a closed palm. She was about a quarter of an acre away, too far away to speak to. Sitting in the afternoon sun had made me drowsy, but I slowly dragged myself up and began to make my way towards her.

"Look what I found!" She said excitedly, her eyes sparkling. I smiled back, suppressing a yawn. Flowers – so pretty, so boring. At least Quinn was happy. We hadn't even been here a full day yet and she'd cried so much.

She was pointing down to a waist-high shrub colored with large blooms. They were really pretty. The color was like a dusky pinkish orange surrounded by gold on the outside, in a spirally type of pattern. I instinctively rubbed my finger along one of the petals, marveling at the silky softness of it. "It's great, Q," I said, a little indifferently.

She was smiling softly at me, that enigmatic smile that I had no idea how to interpret. "Look at what it's called," she said patiently, crouching down among the mulch. I settled my gaze on what she was aiming at, and then my eyebrows shot up.

"Whoa! That's amazeballs." I grinned big. The little plant tag read: Santana Hibiscus.

"It's pretty ironic, actually," Her tone was a little teasing. "It fits your coloring perfectly." She then reached towards a mid-sized bloom and plucked it delicately from the shrub, securing the stem between her index finger and thumb.

Before I had time to react, she was turning towards me, and tucking the flower in my hair. I held my breath, stunned by her sudden closeness. Her face was suddenly right there, her breath tickling out from her slightly parted lips. Her eyes, that delicate shade of evergreen, were focused intently on what she was doing. I never noticed that she was slightly taller than me until now, and I had to angle my head ever so slightly to meet her eyes. Her hands were gentle, pushing aside my hair and patting it down on top of the delicate bud. When she was done, she continued standing there, casting her gaze into my eyes. I bit my lower lip, color abruptly flooding my face. I felt a light-headed fire erupt behind my heart and then torrent down my body, filling my stomach with tight knots and making my fingertips tremble. I didn't dare move, because I was afraid something might break this spell – whatever it was.

We held that position for an awkward amount of time, before Quinn suddenly shifted and then directed her gaze back to the bush of hibiscus. I let out an explosive breath, allowing oxygen back into my lungs. I was dizzy. I had no idea why. I rubbed my cheeks nervously, trying to banish the sting of heat I felt lingering there. I darted my gaze towards Quinn's face, to see if she was blushing too. I couldn't really tell, the light was vanishing more rapidly now.

I didn't say anything, because I didn't know what to say. Sorry for acting so weird, Fabray, but you got in my space and I really wanted to kiss you? How bizarre.

She looked back at me again, her face carefully blank. "It looks perfect."

That caught me off guard. "What?"

She smiled gently. "The flower. In your hair."

I smiled and reached up to touch the bloom self-consciously. "Yeah?"

She nodded, and then glanced at the sky. "Guess we better be getting back. "

I walked back with her, staying a little behind her, trying to figure out what exactly just happened, and what it meant.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who is reading, and taking the time to review!