A/N: Okay! Just a heads-up! This isn't the last part. You'll understand why after you've read this chapter, but just for this story, I'm giving you a 5-parter!

Enjoy!

xXx
CeruleanBlues


Mirrors

Part 4

Show me how to fight for now
And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy
Comin' back into you once I figured it out
You were right here all along

I like to think that I've evolved as a person—matured, even—when life hits an unsuspecting roadblock, but I know better than to feed false perceptions to my person. Five months isn't a lot of time, but it's enough to sort out the cracks and uneven surfaces, and Harvard is just as everyone says it's going to be.

A major bitch and a fucking pain in my ass.

I blame the damn Asians.

Still, it doesn't exactly explain why I'm seated on my bed with a laptop propped on my lap, watching Sam Evans' latest video on his website. It's a new song—no doubt one that he wrote, of course, for he settles for nothing but his own—and he's done it acoustically, just his guitar and the soft rhythm of the drum box, filmed in a recording studio.

He calls often though, his multiple text messages flooding my inbox, but I suppose I'm still too stubborn to answer. It's going to take a lot more than those pathetic attempts to sway me.

"Are you watching his videos again?"

Shit.

Hastily, I slam my computer shut before turning to glare at my invasive roommate. A flimsy excuse threatens to escape my mouth, but Tina Cohen-Chang's knowing smirk is indication enough that I'm pretty much busted.

"Will you fucking stop that?" I snap, the annoyance failing to reach its full potential. "Where did you come from, anyway? You're like a damn ninja."

"I actually knocked," she informs me in amusement.

"If I don't acknowledge it, don't enter," I grumble, stretching my arm to reach for the cup of chocolate mocha from the dresser.

She snickers and flops down on her own bed. "I do live here too, you know."

"How can I forget?" I mutter under my breath.

A pillow sails across the room and lands on my shoulder, almost spilling the drink in my hand. Shooting her a dirty look, I return the favor with my better pitching hand, and feel a huge sense of satisfaction when it smacks her square in the face.

"Ouch!" she yelps, rubbing her nose. "Jesus, Quinn."

I arch an eyebrow. "Don't forget who you're dealing with."

"Why are you so defensive, anyway?"

Tina is a nosy busy body with nothing better to do than pry into my personal life. She's basically a hard-ass leech when it comes down to privacy, but damn is she a God damn good one, weaseling in like only a lawyer—or would-be lawyer—can. Relentless in nature—like every other fucking human being in this campus—she doesn't stop at anything.

"I fail to understand your accusation," I retort flatly.

She rolls her eyes. "Let me make it clear, then. You seem really invested in this Sam Evans guy. Do you have a crush on him, or something?"

Wow, spoken like a high school freshman.

"He makes good music," I reply as neutrally as possible, masking any semblance of emotion as I feign a nonchalant shrug.

"He's cute."

"He's not my type."


My cellphone vibrates on the desk, ultimately defeating the purpose of 'silent mode', and I lunge forward to grab it before it could awaken my roommate.

Tina is a heavy sleeper. A bomb could go off right outside the window and she'd snore through it, but the slightest buzz of technology and she springs right up. She's just so fucking weird.

His name flashes on the screen.

As it does every night at eleven-thirty.

I pause, debating if I should pick it up this time.

My finger hovers over the button for a second too long, and his call goes to voicemail.

I don't listen to it; I never do.

And before I can think to change my mind, my thumb presses on the other option.

Delete.


We're sitting in a circle, playing a lousy game of beer pong in my room on a Friday night—getting pretty much drunk as fuck—when Mike Chang—coincidentally, Tina's non-blood-related boyfriend—asks the elusive question that's been plaguing everybody's minds.

"So, Quinn, are we ever going to hear you sing or play the guitar?"

The slurred conversation around me halts as I feel the sudden weight of six pairs of eyes staring intently at me as though expecting to hear the secrets to the entire universe. Unfortunately for them, it might as well be.

I raise my red solo up to my lips, taking a huge gulp of the malt.

"Never."


That fucking song is stuck in my head, and I need to get the hell out.

It's pouring outside, the rain merciless in its pursuit to apparently flood the whole country, but I'll be damned if that's going to stop me now. Armed with the largest umbrella I can find—Tina's, of course—I brace Mother Nature and allow for my legs to take me wherever they want to go.

Half an hour later, my favorite leather boots are soaking wet from the puddles. The anorak proves worthless against the weather as trickles of water start seeping in, and I reckon it's about fucking time I head back.

But then I see him.

And for all unmentionable reasons, I stop.

A baseball cap sits low on his head, shielding half of his features. Yet, even from across the street, there's no mistaking the blonde hair peaking out from beneath.

Or those full set of lips.

Fuck, I think I'm losing it.

The sound of a bus pulling up by the curb jolts me out of my trance.

"You boarding?" the driver asks, a hint of concern in his voice, and I suppose I must look like a drowned hobo or something out in this treachery.

I blink, frowning at the man even though he deserves none of it.

"I ain't got all day, young lady," he clucks impatiently.

"No."

The dude drives off and involuntarily my gaze returns to that spot.

He's gone.


Tina left a post-it note on the mirror to inform me that she's staying over at Mike's for the night, and after taking a quick shower, I grab my acoustic guitar and seize the rare opportunity to write. The first few strums are tentative and experimental, familiarizing myself with the chords. One word slips from my tongue, followed by a line, and then a verse.

Before I know it, I have a song.


"How's my favorite blonde doing?"

I grin at the familiarity in his voice, gruff as always yet warm with tenderness, and it's only then that I realize how much I actually miss that son of a bitch. An image of him pops in my head, no doubt smoking a damn cigarette.

"Like I've gone to hell and back," I lazily reply, dropping the heavy textbook onto my chest and staring up at the blank ceiling. "What's with you Puckerman? Dreamt of me last night?"

He snorts. "Unless you're a red-head stripping on a pole."

"Fucking pig," I mutter with a smirk. "What do you want?"

"Can't a person just call and say hello?"

Sometimes I wonder why I put up with this asshole.

"Hello, now hang up. I have a ton to study for."

Puck completely ignores it, of course. "What's gotten your panties in a twist?"

"Nothing," I snap. "Fuck off."

He clicks his tongue. "Okay, now I know something's wrong. What's really going on, Quinn?"

My silence probably says it all.

"Are you in town?"

The words are barely audible, but he hears it nonetheless. "I'm an hour away, forty minutes if nobody decides to play GTA."

"Meet me at our usual?"

"Only for you, princess."


The cheap beer tastes foul on my tongue, like I've just scrubbed it with a dead skunk or something equally repulsive, but what the hell, I'm a poor student on a fucking scholarship. Puck drains his mug in four gulps; I swear, he's secretly a shit-eating Viking in disguise.

"Okay, spill," he demands, the somber expression somewhat foreign on his rugged features. "What's wrong?"

Tapping on the sides of the glass, I heave a tired sigh.

"I think I saw Sam the other day."

A laugh almost escapes my throat at the sight of Puckerman's gaping face, but he's quick to cover his initial shock with a cough.

"You think?"

"It was raining and it was hard to see, but I know Sam's lips when I see it."

He pauses for a bit. "You sure it's not someone else?"

I consider it for a moment, taking a hesitant sip of the drink. "I don't know."

"Maybe you need to stop watching his videos."

"Maybe I need to stop being in love with him."


Mock trials are the worst. Having two in a week is tougher than shitting bricks, especially when your opponents seem to reign from some evil corners of the world. Tina is a notorious team leader, and she's probably born with a whip in her hand, but nobody can deny her skills and strategy. She has me working my ass off till the wee hours of the night, but sleep deprivation is a great distraction.

There's a slight buzzing sound somewhere from deep within the piles of books and folders, and everybody sitting around the table freezes, eyes darting around, waiting for someone brave enough to search for the offending device.

"Whose phone is that?" Tina barks, breaking the deafening silence.

Nobody dares to utter a word, so she helps herself to it, diving into the stack. A chill runs down my spine when she fishes out an unmistakable cellphone and holds it up in the air.

"Admit, now."

"It's mine."

She narrows her cat-like eyes at me. "I thought I made it clear to everybody—"

"I know, Tee, I'm sorry. Just reject the call, okay?"

It's still vibrating in her hand, and I'm about to fuck whoever it is on the other end of the line so bad the next chance I get. Oh, God, if that's Puckerman, I'm going to knee him in the balls till they turn blue and fall off on their own.

"Last warning, Quinn." She goes ahead to turn the phone off or whatever when something on the screen catches her attention. "What the hell?" she cries out.

My head snaps up. "What is it?"

Tina shoves the offending device in my face. "You have some serious explaining to do."

She obviously recognizes his name.

Fuck Samuel Evans.

He always has the worst possible timing ever.

Snatching the phone out of her grasp, I shoot her a warning glare.

"None of your damn business."


"Let me get this straight; you actually know Sam Evans?"

I want to fucking stab her in the eye because she hasn't stopped yapping about it since the unfortunate discovery and my ears are a comment away from bleeding and screaming in pain. Refusing to answer her question for the umpteenth time in a row, I hastily avert my task to unlocking the door.

"You can't avoid this forever, you know," Tina perseveres, right on my heels.

"Just drop it, okay? I don't want to talk about him."

She disregards my statement completely, and I'm starting to wonder if anybody ever listens to me.

"I don't believe this, Quinn," she rants on as she strips off her ballet flats. "All this time you've been watching his videos, telling me that you're not interested and all that nonsense; is something going on with the both of you?"

"Nothing is going on—"

"How long has this been happening? Does he call you often?"

Seriously.

"God damn it, Tina, just stop—"

"Why didn't you just tell me the truth from the first day I asked? I mean, obviously there's nothing to be ashamed of—" She interrupts her own rambling with a gasp. "Are you ashamed of him? But I don't understand why that is, I mean, he's famous—practically a celebrity on his own—I know I'd probably be selling his phone number on eBay—"

"He broke my heart, Tee."

She jumps—startled by my outburst—and blinks.

"Oh, Quinn…"

I suck in a deep breath, turning my gaze to the window and mentally cursing the heavens. Somebody up there is probably having a fucking field day right now.

"And it still hurts."


I don't mean to play it—the song that is but bitter notes in my ear—and yet, my fingers only prove my self-depreciating glutton for punishment. Blindly, they strum those unforgettable chords, and before I know it, I'm singing those damn lyrics. It's ironic how much I loathe my own words.

"God, that was just fucking tragic," I remark to the empty room.

Suddenly, the door swings open and Tina barges in with an army of four on her tail.

"That was amazing!" she gushes, eyes wide with child-like amazement, you'd think she'd just fucked Mickey Mouse's ass.

"What the hell?"

Mercedes Jones sidles in next to me on the bed, beaming like it's Christmas and grabs my hand. "Girl, that was so good. You ought to sing more often."

Unbelievable.

"You guys were eavesdropping on me?"

Mike shrugs his shoulders. "Eavesdropping is kind of a negative context—"

I shut him up with a pointed glare.

"Why don't you ever sing for us, Quinn?" Blaine Anderson asks as his boyfriend, Kurt Hummel, nods in agreement. "Your voice is brilliant."

They're toeing precariously on my privacy—one that I don't share willy-nilly with just anybody—and a part of me wants to tell them to fuck off because interventions drive me up the wall and I hate it, even though I know that my five friends mean well.

"I'm not brave enough."


"Quinn?"

I glance up from the book, arching an eyebrow inquisitively. "What is it?"

Tina angles her laptop towards me. "You need to watch this."

She clicks on the play button as Sam's face fills the screen. That trademark acoustic guitar sits on his lap, the strap slung over one shoulder, and immediately I recognize his bedroom in the background. Seeing him catches me off guard. Something lodges in my throat, but before I can turn the computer away, he starts to speak.

"Hi, it's me again. Sam, I am," he pauses, as though amused by his own wit. "And I don't like green eggs and ham."

For that unnecessary shout out to Dr. Seuss, I just have to roll my eyes.

"So I've been receiving a lot of questions, and no, I don't have a girlfriend."

Tina smiles at my gob smacked expression.

"I have a best friend, though," Sam continues, and I feel a chill running down my spine at the implication of what he's about to reveal. "Her name is Quinn. She left to be the best lawyer in the world, and I miss her every single day, so, Q, if you're watching, this next song is for you."

"Shit…"

The song is heart-wrenchingly beautiful; one that I'd love to hate if it weren't so sincerely sung, and the abrupt onslaught of emotions that wash over me is so unexpected, I don't think I've ever felt something so intense.

"Tina," I grate out. "He's not fucking with me, right?"

"I doubt it."

It's like you're my mirror
My mirror staring back at me
I couldn't get any bigger
With anyone else beside of me


When my cellphone rings with his number on the screen, it takes everything in me to ignore it like I usually do. I tighten the grip on my ballpoint pen and force myself to look the other way.

The call goes to voicemail, and for that moment, I heave a small sigh of relief.


Those sneaky little liars.

"You told me that we're going to a bar," I growl, jabbing an accusing finger into Tina's chest.

She raises both hands up in surrender; slightly afraid for her own wellbeing since I probably look like I'm seconds away from ripping her arm off and cowers behind her boyfriend's sorry lanky self.

"We are," she sputters out. "This is a bar, is it not?"

I swear, if we were not actually in public, I probably would have made a run at her.

"You signed me up for the Open Mike without even consulting in me first," I screech. "Tina Cohen-Chang, what the fuck were you thinking? Give me one reason why I shouldn't commit first-degree murder right now."

"It's not Tina's fault, Quinn," Mercedes speaks up, ever the neutral mediator. "We were all in it together."

So help me God.

"Why the hell would you guys do that?"

"We think that you're a phenomenal singer," Kurt supplies, bouncing on the heels of his expensive shoes. "And we figure, such talent should not be wasted within the confines of four walls."

"Just so you know, I hate you guys right now."


Performing is addictive, and the surge of adrenaline that courses through my veins just by standing up on stage with the spotlight showering down on me feels like home. The guitar that leans against the high stool is such an enticing invitation—a gravitational pull that's so fucking hard to ignore—and my hands tremble slightly as I take position. Fighting against the glare, I struggle to identify the silhouettes.

"My name is Quinn Fabray."

The microphone picks out my voice perfectly, and a grin forms on my lips when I hear it on the feedback speakers.

"And this is my song."


I'm not sure how it happened but playing in Shaggy Bar becomes a regular thing. The manager likes me enough that he's given me a slot every Wednesday. I take the gig even though the payment's not much, and every week, I play to a different audience.

"You need to get signed, Quinn," Tina tells me, nodding like it's the most logical thing on the planet. "Remind me again why you chose Harvard over Berklee?"

"I want to be a lawyer, Tee."

"Come on, that's bullshit, and you know it."


My roommate does it again.

She goes behind my back and creates a fucking blog. I stare at it—horrified that she'd somehow managed to dig up a slightly decent photo of me—and wonder where she'd find the time to fix it up.

"My cousin owes me a favor," she says, as though reading my mind.

"Are you simply just unable to grasp the concept of 'leave me alone'?"

"Your page has ten thousand views as of last night."

I swivel back around to view the site, in time to see the hit counter increase by another five hundred.

"The fuck?"

"You're welcome."


My cellphone goes off while we're all huddled in the lounge room watching a movie, interrupting one of my favorite scenes—the one where the serial killer gruesomely slices the head off the brainless bimbo—and even before I glance at the screen, I know it's him calling.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

Tina regards me closely, tilting her head in that Asian-psychic way.

"No."

"It's Sam, isn't it?"

"Yes."


Later on, in the darkness of our room, just as I'm drifting off to sleep, Tina's voice jolts me back awake, and inwardly, I curse my fucking luck. I mean, what's a girl got to do to get some peace and quiet around here?

"You should give him a chance, Q."

"Don't call me that," I murmur absent-mindedly, rolling on my side so that I'm facing the window.

"But Sam—"

"Is only one who can."

The silence that follows sounds like a piece of heaven; that is, until she shatters it once again with another remark.

"Just hear him out, Quinn. I know that you're hurt and everything, but it'll do you good to swallow a little bit of that pride and take the hand that's trying to reach out to you."


I'm only vaguely aware of the time—of how long I've been sitting on the toilet seat in the bathroom, simply staring at the inanimate object in my hands. It could've been a minute, or five, or probably even an hour, and yet I'm no closer to a decision.

Tina's words are still reverberating in my head like an endless echo.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

There's no going back now.

Lifting the phone up to my ear, I wait for the singular beep before his deep voice filters out of the speakers.

"Q…"

I suck in a quick breath.

"Please talk to me."


It's exceptionally crowded at Shaggy Bar tonight and the stunning turn-up throws me off a little. Standing next to me, Puck lets out a low whistle, though he does nothing to placate the hyperactive nerves from doing backflips all over in my stomach.

"Jesus, Quinn," he says, eyeing the throngs of people in awe. "This place is finally alive."

I blink in confusion. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"I have no idea, but I see two hot blondes over by that corner with my name written all over their cunts. Good luck up there, princess."

He disappears into the sea of bodies and leaves me alone to fend for myself, that horny bastard. Cursing a lifetime of STDs to his ass and his penis, I flag the bar tender down for a mug of beer to soothe my jitters.

"Thanks, Rory."

"Anytime, Quinn."

The house lights dim down and immediately the chatter dies down to a hum—a cue for me to stand by—and as I take position on the raised platform, the warm rush of headiness bubbles in my chest. Hoisting myself up on the high stool, I cradle the acoustic guitar on my lap.

"Good evening, everybody, I'm Quinn Fabray."

A loud smattering of applause follows suit, and I'm pretty sure I just hear Puck leading the catcalls in his usual crude ways. For everyone's benefit, I flash him the finger; rolling my eyes when his only response is to sarcastically declare his undying love for me.

"Okay, so anyway, thank you all for coming tonight." Glancing out at the audience, I habitually scan the swarm of faded silhouettes. "I'm glad to be here, and I hope you will too. This first song was written three weeks ago, in my tiny-ass dorm room. It's nothing special or fancy, but I like it. This song is called 'Raindrops and a Face'."


I've never really performed this live before, so I never know how to begin.

Flexing my fingers, I gaze out at the obscurity in the room.

"I wrote this last song almost a year ago, when I was still a senior in high school. I wrote this with a friend—my best friend, actually—and it's not the best song, but it's definitely my favorite, so here it goes."

In the midst of the caliginosity, something at the corner of my eye catches my attention.

He emerges from the shadow.

"Sam…"

And now it's clear as this promise
That we're making two reflections into one
'Cause it's like you're my mirror
My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me


A/N: Okay, so…I have decided that I have one more part to write. It does initially end here, I'm not going to lie, but this isn't going to do the story justice, and there's a lot I need to straighten out, so one more part it is!

OhHeyAl: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! I'm glad you found the awkward scene hilarious! I had so much fun with that scene! I know that the previous chapter was pretty devastating, and so is this one, especially with the major lack in Fabrevans scenes. The next part is going to be interesting, I promise!

Dosqueen67: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the previous chapter! I'm glad you liked how the awkward sex scene turned out! LOL! Yeah, I mean, not everybody's first time looks like a scene out of a movie, and I would think with Sam and Quinn's polar-opposite personality, it's definitely not going to be romantic in any sense. LOL! Apologies on the "cove". It's an inside joke between my friends. Frankly, what you found hard to read, I found it hard to write. Them straying away is not my favorite at all, but I had to do it for the story. Well, of course in this chapter, Sam admits in a video that he is single, so what happened between him and Brittany? I'm not concluding it just yet. I've decided to add another part because endings like the one I wrote for this story suck bad and a little anti-climactic during a climax (does that make sense?). Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! More Fabrevans next!

Pieceofcupcakes: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the previous part! I really appreciate it! LOL! I'm glad you liked the awkward sex bit and found it realistic. I mean, not everybody's first time looks like a scene out of a movie, right? That rubber-hat joke really did happen; not to me, but a friend, and I just had to include it in. Of course, this being a story told from Quinn's POV, we all tend to side with her more, especially since Sam was being a jerk after everything. I totally agree with you on Quinn feeling like she's been used, but I promise you there's an explanation to that coming up in the next part :D So, yeah, I'm breaking my 4-parter rule and putting up one final installment for this story, so I hope you'll stick around for that! Cheers!

RJRRAA: Helloooooooo! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it, even though the previous chapter made you a little upset. Apologies for putting you through such an emotional roller coaster! Yeah, the boyfriend/girlfriend over best friend thing sucks, but that's the whole theme of the story. Admittedly, Sam is a jerk, but Quinn—even though slightly vulnerable—is strong, and is teaching Sam a lesson. I'm glad you picked out the part where Quinn is allowed to pursue music with Sam even though she's going to Harvard, but here, she is choosing not to. She doesn't want to be his go-to for everything, or his last resort when Brittany isn't available. There's still one more part to the story, though, and it'll involved an explanation on Sam's part :D Hope you've enjoyed this!

Guest (1): Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate the comments!

Nicole: Hi girl! I've always loved your reviews! They're so colorful and never fail to put a smile on my face! LOL! Thank you for taking time to rant :D Hope you're feeling well after the whole haze episode in Singapore. I'm so sorry for being so cruel. I know how it feels, writing about all that sexy Fabrevans time only to rip it away with Brittany, and honest to God, I think I punished my keyboard for it. I may have damaged a few keys while getting the chapter out. It was like chewing on sand paper. Sam, in his defense, is probably just confused, and like you said, a tad bit naïve, and possibly too nice of a guy to reject Brittany. Of course, that doesn't justify his actions, or his oblivion to Quinn's feelings, but she's a strong girl, and she wants to teach Sam a lesson. LOL! I love that little bit of Taylor Swift in your review, and that hidden message thing. It's a great insight! This part, obviously, isn't the finale to the story. It initially was, but then I'll just end up being an ass-hole for such shitty ending, and I want to do justice to Fabrevans, so there'll be one more part left to this story. A 5-parter! LOL!

Ashley: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story! I really appreciate it! LOL! All of us here want Sam and Quinn together, myself included, and don't worry, it'll happen. This isn't the end of the story, though, there's still one last part to the story :D Hope you'll stick around for that!

Jenny: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! LOL! I'm glad you agree on the intensity of the chapter :D Yeah, I had a great time at the wedding, thank you! This chapter isn't the last part. There's one more to come!

FabrevansFTW: Hello! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the previous chapter! I really appreciate it! LOL! Looks like your wishful thinking is coming true, because I have one more part to add to this story, so this chapter isn't the end. I will definitely be writing more fics, and right now, I have a couple at hand to finish up. WIME is slowly but surely ending, and I have THA just screaming for my attention, so those ought to keep me busy for a while. So back to this story, I totally understand you empathizing with Quinn. I mean, yeah, the change between her friendship with Sam totally suck, and I wish it didn't happen, but it did! For me, nobody is particularly the bad person in this story. Sam is perceived as such because it's in Quinn's point of view, but yeah, he is a jerk for neglecting his best friend. I love a strong female character, and I want Quinn to be that person that isn't dependent on anybody, and that's a lesson she wants to teach Sam, that she can go on with or without him. One more chapter to go! Hope you'll stick around for it! Cheers!

Quams: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story! I really appreciate it! LOL! I apologize for putting you through all that distress and pain. What you find tough to read, it was tougher for me to write, believe me. I'd love for them to just sit down and talk it out, and perhaps that will happen in the next part!

Guest (2): Hi! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

xXalienatedXx: Hello there! Thank you for reading my story and reviewing all 3 chapters all at once, as well as the other reviews that you've left on my other stories! I really appreciate your time! I'm glad you like how I've portrayed Quinn in this story. I love a good, strong female lead :D I don't really like Sam in this story as well, but I suppose because this story is told in Quinn's point of view, there's probably a bit of biased opinions, and I'm sure Sam has his reasons and his side of the story. You nailed the theme of this story right in the head. Best friend over boyfriend/girlfriend. Anyway, hope you've enjoyed this update! One more part to go!

Mandorac: Hi there! Whee! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the previous chapter! You always know the best things to say, and I truly appreciate it! LOL! I'm glad you liked how I described Brittany because I always have this mental illustration that whenever she talks, rainbows and unicorns spew out. So yeah, things did change for the worse between Sam and Quinn and their friendship have been compromised. You totally got it about Quinn and being in love with Sam, and she actually admitted it to Puck in this chapter. As much as it hurts for you to read about Brittany and Sam, it pains me even more to write it. I might have slammed a little too hard on my keyboard, and maybe I might need to get a new one now because my 'a' and my 't' aren't working too well. I love all your theories on what will happen between Sam and Quinn! You actually have it well figured out! Just this once, I'm breaking my 4-parter rule and adding in one more part. Hope you've enjoyed this chapter!

G: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and I understand how you feel about Quinn, and how Sam seems to be such a jerk. I promise you that it's going to be a good ending—nothing tragic—and hopefully it won't disappoint you!

Brenda/NayaholicJustForNaya: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story! I really appreciate it! I'm glad you like how the story is playing out, even though some parts are a little more than heartbreaking. Could you perhaps copy the link for the GIF again? I can't seem to view it .

Agronderwood: Hi! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! LOL! Don't worry, though, Quinn is definitely not going to sleep with Puck :D

Song used: "Mirrors" by Justin Timberlake