A/N: Thank you all for reading!

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 3: QNYEEWS

Quinn: Intro to psych is a basic freshman weed-out class, which basically means I sit in an auditorium with about 60 other people give or take with the hopes that at least 15% of them fail or drop psych as a major completely. This is a subject that I know little to nothing about but has always fascinated me. I sit here and absorb every little detail like a sponge. I've never been a huge note taker and by that I mean I'm not a stenographer. That's not my learning style. I listen, internalize, and then condense or formulate what's just been said onto my notebook. I guess that makes me an auditory learner, which totally explains why I prefer live music.

Fabray, you're a genius already.

Regardless, psych fascinates me. The other day we learned about the human brain. This was the one thing I kind of already knew a bit about from my AP Biology class Senior year, but we really went deep into it this time. This is college, and Yale, so that should have been a given. We learnt about memories and something called false memories. I don't want to get too in depth on it but the human brain can basically make up false memories that we believed happened in real life. Like come on, how fascinating is that?

We have a midterm next week on the basic history of Psychology and the Psychologists that have pioneered some major areas in the study and also about the functioning of the Central Nervous System of the body, which is a smart way of saying the brain, spinal cord, and neurons. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong. Although I've been making flash cards and studying like a fiend, I'm excited for this test because then I can finally make the trip to visit Rachel and she can finally get her tattoo. She's decided on getting a small discrete gold star because "they are kind of my thing" or so she says and you know how into metaphors she is.

I want to experience her New York and visit her restaurants. I even want to meet her scatterbrained roommate. The leaves have already begun to change colors here in New Haven, so I can only imagine how beautiful it is there, but in my head it looks like it does in You've Got Mail. If only the Little Shop Around the Corner was real.

My English class is alright, but I've quickly learned that English isn't my forte. It's not that I'm bad at it, it just doesn't really interest me. Now my film class is way cool. We basically watch Latin films and then talk about them. We have to write a paper centered on a theme of one of the movies we've watched. I think I'm going to choose this movie called Sin Nombre about some kids from Honduras who hop trains all the way to the US for a better life. But more than that, it's a sad yet eye-opening narrative of the brutal realities of drug cartels and their unrelenting strength and brutality. So, I'm sure I can come up with something.

My Bible class has been a lot of work, too. For a girl who's been in a church since she was born, there's a lot that I didn't know. Call it selective preaching or teaching, or maybe I missed the message. The class is taught from a non-devotional historical standpoint. My professor was raised by a Christian father and Jewish mother and was raised with both religions having equal importance. He's also a Latin and Ancient Greek nut, so learning that the original versions of words have multiple possible meanings has really changed my perception on a lot of issues – like being gay. It's funny, my parents are so happy when I tell them I spend at least six hours reading the Bible and biblical history books a week. My dad said, "Good. We don't need those bleeding heart liberals to taint your beliefs." If he only knew.

Rachel: Quinn's coming to visit me in T-minus 27 hours! My only midterm was on Tuesday morning, so I have spent the remainder of my time planning a Quinntastic New York Extravaganza Extended-Weekend Spectacular!

We will see the sights, watch The Book of Mormon on Broadway because everyone can say nothing but good things about it, sit and talk and perhaps play a board game in a cute coffee shop, do a little shopping, get my tattoo, and walk hand-in-hand in Central Park… if she'd like, that is. I can't believe I just said that out loud, but it feels good… to admit it or to hear it out loud or to say it to someone other than myself and Mr. Snuggles.

Yes, I would love to walk hand-in-hand with Quinn anywhere. Now the trick is to get her to want to do that back.

Shit.

I'll work on it.

Back to the topic at hand. New York is simply gorgeous during October. The wind is crisp with enough bite to flirtatiously tell you that Winter is coming, yet still sunny and even-tempered to stay outside for a long stroll. But do you know my favorite thing about October? Pumpkins! Vegan pumpkin pie. Pumpkin spice. Vegan pumpkin muffins. Vegan pumpkin cookies. Vegan pumpkin cupcakes. Soy pumpkin spice lattes. Really, I could go on for hours, but I am certain you catch my drift.

My dads used to tease me when I was little and tell me that if I kept eating all those cookies, I was going to turn into a pumpkin, as well. I really think that was a deceitful parenting tactic to scare me into eating one cookie per night. Can you imagine how frightening it is to think that your slender eight-year old self was going to blow up into a very large round orange pumpkin? That was simply downright dastardly, but it worked.

I wonder if Quinn fervently loves pumpkins like myself.

Oh! Quinn is also going to meet Sara. She is going to join us for our first dinner before Sara goes home to the Bronx for the rest of the weekend. If you could see me now, you would know that I am doing my happy dance. What else has happened of note?

Well, Quinn and I have been texting and chatting with one another quite regularly. She texts me good morning because I do not wish to wake her during my morning 5 a.m. ritual, and I call her and wish her good night when I turn in to bed after my late night rehearsals. Rehearsals! Yes I forgot to mention, and how clumsy of me, I won the audition for a lesser role in an original work written by one of NYADA's senior playwright majors. The musical is set during the Great Depression and centers around the star-crossed lovers of a tobacco plantation owner's son and the daughter of a plantation worker who works the plantation herself. I play one of the daughter's friends. I play Judith/Plantation Worker #4. I think it is an admirable start for myself. Opening night is around Valentine's Day weekend next semester and Quinn said she would not miss it for the world.

Sunny: Hey, I'm Sunny. How's it goin'? Q's a real sweet girl. I think all four of us really lucked out because we've all bonded like a really weird group of sisters. We're an interesting family that's for sure.

I'm a Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies major. Go figure, right? I've known who I am since I was about four. My mom enrolled me in an early pre-school program and after one week, I came home and told her that I had a crush on Jessie… as in Jessica. It was love at first push on the swing.

My mom's always been cool with it and my 'uela, too. My dad's never been in the picture so I can't speak on his behalf. I'm sure some people would say that he's the reason that I'm gay but that's bull.

That's how I bonded with Q. My story really resonated with her. She told me how much it sucked growing up in her house with her super conservative parents in Ohio, so I can understand why she feels… conflicted. Either way, I took her to a few LGBTQ meetings to expose her to the variations on a theme that is sexuality. She said she has gay, bi, and lesbian friends, but there's so much more than those labels. To say that I blew her mind is an understatement.

I'm not going to lie, taking her to the meeting was like showing up with a peacock. Everyone – boys, girls, trans – couldn't help but swoon, become her best friend, or flat out hit on her during her first meeting. Her friend Rachel's lucky I'm into girls with a little more spice, wink wink nudge nudge. Not that Q said anything about dating her, but the way she talks about her… well, maybe I'm seeing what I want to see, but she might as well start calling her her girlfriend with the way she sneaks off to the kitchen down the hall when Rachel calls or she sends her pictures of random little things that she thinks Rachel would like. Their relationship is something we haven't talked about explicitly, so this weekend should be interesting.

Q asked to come back with me to the next meeting, so I guess she liked it. I hooked her up with my buddy Jo who's a liaison to the Queer Peers program in case she wants to talk to someone she doesn't live with about anything, everything, and nothing at all. A safe place, you know?

Rachel: T-minus 30 minutes!

Quinn: Oh my God what did Sunny say to you? Why are you giving me that look? I see her like a sister, ok, that'd never happen.

Focus here people! I just texted Rachel that we have 15 minutes until we reach the bus depot. I hope I brought enough clothes because Rachel didn't tell me everything she had planned for us. At least I have the credit card my father gave me in case of emergencies. I'm so excited because the Manhattan skyline was so beautiful on the drive in. I can see why Rachel loves it here so much.

My palms are sweaty and I think I may make a hole in my lip if I keep gnawing on it, but I can't shake these nerves. I know I've seen Rachel plenty of times on Skype, but seeing her in person is so different. This will be the first time I've been able to hug her since two days before we both left for college. If we pick up where we left off… well I'm not sure I could handle that right now. I must have been lost in my thoughts because the bus' air breaks are whishing us to a stop.

I'm here.

She's here waiting for me in the crowd, but I don't see her. Oh of course! There she is. How could I miss her standing in smack dab in the middle of the throng of people in her multicolored striped jacket? She's always been a bright beacon in a sea of neutrality.

I can't believe we're actually here – in the same city – together.

"There you are," she says excitedly as if she just spotted me in a game of hide-and-seek.

"Here I am," I say just as surprised as I pick her up into a big bear hug. God how I've missed Rachel Berry. I'm smiling into her hair and willing the tears in my eyes to stay at bay.

"I found you," she says softly into my hair. I can hear the smile in her voice and squeeze her a little tighter.

"Would you like me to fetch your bag?" she asks once her feet touch the ground. I haven't let go of her yet; I'm not quite ready. I can't help but laugh at her formal hospitality.

"No offense, Rach, but I'm pretty sure you'd fall over in your little shoes if you tried to take my bag."

"Excuse me, but what's wrong with my shoes, Quinn? I, for one, happen to think they're cute!" she says with her fists on her hips slightly flustered. There's the Rachel Berry I know. "And besides, you are my guest, and as such, I should be the one to make your trip as lovely and enjoyable as possible."

"Well I would enjoy taking my own suitcase," I say as I pull my bag from under the bus and hold it in my left hand while throwing my right arm over her shoulders, "so that I can enjoy your company back to your place."

I can't tell if she's blushing because of the way I'm standing with her or if she's cold, but I'll take it.

"Ahem! Well, I have a cab waiting for us and it is a good thing too seeing the size of your luggage. Gosh, did you plan on moving here? Plus, we can save time for more important activities."

Activities, ay? What kind of activities are we talking here?

"Well you didn't tell me what we were going to be doing, so I tried to prepare myself."

"You shall see, Ms. Fabray; it's a surprise. Come on, the cab is just around the corner, hopefully."

The cab driver popped the trunk but didn't come out to help me put my bag in. Rude. Thank God for some of my residual muscle from Coach Sylvester's workouts. Rachel tried to help but ended up directing me more than anything.

"Lift with your legs. Yeah, bend and grab it from the bottom. With your legs, Fabray!"

"You just want a nice view, perv."

Whoops, that may not have been the right thing to say. She's suddenly too quiet.

"Joking. I'm joking, Berry. Lighten up."

"Right," she laughed nervously, "your chariot ma lady."

Once Rachel gave the cabbie the directions and a very specific preferred route, he quickly realized that this petite brunette knew her stuff and took off as fast as possible. Rachel took charge like she owned this bitch.

That was…different… and definitely hot.

"Wait, Rach you grabbed a cab without knowing the size of my bag. Are you sure you're not avoiding taking the metro? You know I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. I don't mind taking public transportation."

"I know you are, Quinn, but I have heard far too many stories about muggings and thefts of people with luggage in the metro to intentionally place you in that kind of danger or harm."

That's sweet. A little overprotective, but sweet.

"That's very sweet of you Rachel, thank you. I just didn't want you to have to pay extra for a cab if you didn't have to."

I offered to pay for the cab, but she waved me off. Before I knew it, the old grimy buildings began to morph into modern architectural works of art with bright lights and moving advertisements so crammed together it was a wonder how any one stood out enough to properly do its job.

Before Rachel could pay the driver, he rushed to the back and took out my luggage. Surely he was hoping for a good tip. That, and it was also his way of standing out from the other taxis who are, as I can only presume, just as rude as this driver was initially. Imagine that, manners will get you noticed in the city.

Rachel stepped up to a rehabbed red brick five-story building. So far so good. 424B gleamed in gold in front of my eyes and I noticed that the numbers on her door were brighter than any of the others in her hallway.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Rachel said as she slid her pink Hello Kitty covered gold key into the third and final heavy-duty dead bolt. She stepped inside the narrow entrance way and held the door open for me.

"Sara? We're home!"

"Woah! Since when does Rachel Berry scream her arrival like she works at a sandwich counter in a crowded deli during rush hour?"

"Sorry. Sara watches the TV loudly so unless I want to scare her to death, I shout when I come home. That, and I walked in on her and her boyfriend in a... compromising position once. So really, it is in my best interest to make my presence known."

"A compromising position? You really do have a gift, Rachel. You can spin any bad situation into something more palatable."

"Thank you, Quinn. I really do try."

"I wish I could have seen your face when you discovered said 'compromising position.' I imagine you looked like a combination of Finn's mailman face and Coach Sylvester's face that time she caught Brittany and Santana making out in her trophy closet."

"Wouldn't know, but she looked like she took a dump in her pants and had to find a bathroom ASAP! Hi, I'm Sara. You must be Quinn."

She has manners to match her accent. Ok, no. I'm not my mother and I'm in no place to judge.

"Call me Q. It's nice to finally meet the first person, other than family, that can actually live with Rachel."

"Nah, it's really nothing. I grew up in a house with three younger brothers and loud-mouthed Italian parents, not to mention all my Puerto Rican friends. I could pretty much live in a war zone, so living with Berry here is a walk in the park. Besides, what's so wrong with her? She ain't some kind of killer or something, right?"

I can see why she likes her.

"There's nothing wrong with her that I can think of and I'm pretty sure she couldn't harm a fly. Although a spider, maybe."

"That is because spiders are evil creatures that should not be allowed to live. Nor should anything else with that many legs and eyes for that matter," Rachel said defensively.

"Don't let the people at PETA hear you say that," I teased.

"Well Miss Ivy League, why don't you put your stuff in our room so we can go grab a bite? You can take my bed, I don't really mind. And don't worry, I just washed the sheets," said Sara with a wink.

A bed in the same room as Rachel? I – I couldn't control – I can't accept that.

"Oh no, Sara, you don't have to do that. I can take the couch no problem. It's really not a big deal."

"Look, taking a four hour nap on that couch is no big deal, but sleeping there for three nights, that's torture. Don't even worry about it. Didn't Berry tell you that I'm going home? Besides, if you don't sleep there, no one will and that's just stupid. So you'll sleep on my bed and like it or else you'll offend me. Ok? End of story."

Four hours does not a nap make. Buuut, alright then.

"Then it is settled! How wonderful. The bedroom is right around the corner, Quinn. I hope you both are in the mood for Thai food! Tofu Pad Thai anyone?"

Sara: I like her. She's a little wound up, if you know what I mean, but she's a sweet girl and has manners like I've never seen before. Berry told me she had a thing for her friend and that she was pretty, but she didn't say that this girl was a straight up knockout! She's the kind of girl that can make you question things, ya know, but she's too much of a goody two shoes to be my type… if I was gonna be questioning things, that is.

I'm sure they're going to have a good time this weekend. You know Berry, always prepared with a backup plan. Her backup plans have backup plans. She kept saying, "This is the week," over and over to herself like some kind of mantra. I think she's planning on coming clean, but from the way those two look at each other, or the way Q gave Berry all of her mushrooms because "they're your favorite," I don't know if anything really needs to be said at all.

Women. That's why I don't do them. It's got nothing to do with whether or not I can have sex with them but more that I don't think I can stand their crazy. Our crazy. Whatever, you know what I mean. Women can be fickle. Now men, men are easy and I like easy. Easy peezy lemon squeezy! Just don't tell my boyfriend that; he can really be such a girl sometimes.

Quinn: As I was putting my stuff down in the bedroom, I noticed Rachel's ridiculously full and color-coded desk calendar. For today, it says "Begin QNYEEWS!" Next to it on a pink noted pad are the words "Quinnificent," "Quinderful," "Quawesome," and "Quinbulous" scratched out before she underlined the word "Quinntastic" three times.

Could this girl be any more adorable?

Rachel: I could not be any more excited to have Quinn here, with me, in my apartment, after so long. Dinner was amazing, of course. I love the Pad Thai at Thaied Up. I discovered that little gem one day when my Costumes class took a field trip to a NYADA elderly patron's home in Gramercy Park. I decided to walk there and discover a new part of the city and happened to come across this quaint little restaurant with the handsomely inviting dark carved teak doors on the way. I thought the name was clever and erotic – exotic! I meant exotic!

Quinn thoroughly enjoyed her Pad Kee Mao with tofu and Sara ventured out and tried a spread of sushi that included yellow tail and eel… I think. I must admit I do not speak Japanese nor am I a sushi connoisseur. But now it is Faberry time!

"Ok, so here are your options for tonight. I have all of tomorrow planned, but I thought you might be a little tired today, considering you had a final this morning, so I will let you choose between the following activities: first, we can–"

"How gracious of you to allow me to exercise my free will tonight, Rach."

"Quinn, I will choose to ignore your sarcasm tonight as it is a typical side effect of tiredness and fatigue. As I was saying, we can, A, enjoy each other's company over a bottle of wine, care of Sara and her fake ID; or B, we can–"

"Wait, Sara bought us a bottle of wine? You condoned her use of a fake ID? And even if I did drink wine, you don't know what kind I prefer."

"Have you always been such a constant interrupter? It must be the fatigue. While I ordinarily do not condone minors undermining the law, Sara has been using her ID since she was 15 and considering her life experience, she has the maturity of a 21 year old. Secondly, we are in college, Quinn, and partaking in alcohol consumption is something that is not only expected, but required of us. There have been and will continue to be several events that require my attendance where my sole purpose will be to schmooze potential donors, directors, producers, writers, and co-stars in order to boost my career. If I want to play the game, then I need to start somewhere, so what better place to start than where I left off this summer, with my best friend?"

"Oh. Well, that was a very… thought out answer," Quinn stumbled.

"Yes, well I tend to spend a lot of time consumed in my own thoughts. Also, because I was unsure of your wine preference, I had Sara buy both a white wine, Sauvignon Blanc – a general crowd pleaser that is currently chilling in the fridge – and a nice Shiraz, because I thought that a Cabernet Sauvignon might be too dry for our novice palates."

I think of everything you know. At least, I try to. This weekend with Quinn has to be special and if the completely stupefied look on her face tells me anything, I think I have pulled off my most brilliant plan yet. She is giving me that eyebrow of hers and I cannot help but wonder if it means that she is surprised and beyond belief at my genius plan or something else. I wish I could read this mysterious women before me as easily as she seems to be able to read me.

She seems adorably lost in her own thoughts as she thumbs her index fingers with closed fists and licks her lips. It is probably best I snap her out of her reverie before I lose my gumption.

"OR," I say certainly too loudly for our conversation, "plan B: we can go to this cute little coffee shop that I know you will simply love to pieces and talk or take a board game and soak up the scenery and each other's company."

I love her smile. When she smiles genuinely it fills me with a warmth akin to when you have been standing in a shadow on a brisk fall day and then step into the sunshine. Do you know the feeling? It feels as if the sun is wrapping you in the kindest hug and kisses your skin to remind you that there is warmth in the universe even on the coldest of days.

"Completely legal, of course," I add to tease her.

She stands there regarding me and then saunters over to the couch as if she has been here before. I never know what she is thinking and she must sense my discomfort because she smiles that smile and pats the cushion next to her.

As if I even have a choice. Even with a mere few inches separating us, I can feel her warmth and notice my body temperature rising as she crosses her legs daintily with ease. Bless the inventor of black lace leggings.

"Well," she drawls out. I think she likes having this visible effect on me. Quinn Fabray and control will always be synonymous. "Why don't we do both?"

"Both? How do you mean?"

"Well, we can drink some chai as I kick your ass at Scrabble, yet again, and then we can come home for a nightcap and catch up over a glass of wine. Does that sound good?"

Home.

"Perfect. That sounds perfect."