A/N: to all of you who review last chapter, Thanks! You guys are amazing. Especially "Anon," for wishing me luck with that girl. I don't see her again until next week, which is rather saddening to think about. BUT, this week has been THE BEST WEEK OF MY LIFE. :D

Anyway, this chapter took longer to put up because it needed extra loving and it's been a busy week/end. SO sorry. and it's probably full of mistakes too but :( I haven't had as much time to work on this and I want to put it up soon.

I do not own RMA nor have I ever been there. All I know from it comes from Google and its website. Mr. Guerra is a fictional character and any similarities to any museum curators are simply a coincidence.

Chapter 7 – We'll Be A Dream (We The Kings ft. Demi Lovato)

I'm going over the date in my head while I walk from my dorm to Quinn's. Santana told me I'd look fine in my favorite pair of ripped jeans with a gray pullover. I'm wearing a leather jacket that matches my combat boots. I straightened my hair and did my makeup smoky the way Santana says is smoldering and will have Quinn dropping her panties as soon as she sees me.

It's 6:50 pm when I get to Hutch – Quinn's dorm. I don't want to be too early, so I just hang out in the lobby, listening to her iPod while people watching. I recognize some people and wave back when they wave at me. Some even say I look nice and I thank them with a polite smile. After five minutes, I can't take it anymore. I'm dying to see her; I'm dying to be with her; I'm dying to take her out.

Not a minute past 6:55 I'm knocking on her door. I check things off in my head while waiting: wallet – check; reservations – check; weather – check. I knock again. I take in a steadying breath when I think about who I'm taking out.

The door opens. "Hi," I say, blinking my widening eyes repeatedly because she is a vision of beauty. I could look at her face for hours. I don't even know how I landed a date with her, "You look great." I notice Brittany in the back, smirking at us, completely ecstatic it seems. "Hey, Brittany." She waves at me and then disappears further into the room. I look back at Quinn. She's smiling and staring at me.

"I could say the same about you." I love those boots. They're the same she was wearing the first day I ever saw her. She looks hot in them.

"Are you ready to go?"

She nods and grabs her purse before saying bye to Brittany. "I'm leaving, Britt. Thanks for everything. Bye!"

Brittany replies, "Bye! Have fun! Be good to Rachel."

Quinn and I smile at each other and she says, "I will." Her voice is so husky; it sends shivers down my spine thinking about how she will be good to me. This girl standing in front of me is someone I never even know I was missing but as soon as I saw her I knew – I knew something had been lacking. I'm so content at the moment. I want to hold her hand so I offer mine and she takes it and it just… it works. It's inexplicably perfect.

"Your hand's cold." She says once we're walking down the hallway.

I don't know what to do. I try to pull away, "Sorry –" so I can warm it up but she stops me.

"I'll keep them warm for you." And she does. There's a warm feeling at the tip of my toes that rises up and washes my body from inside out like a wave. It's so cute how she swings our arms between us. I feel like a kindergartener. "So, what are we doing?" She asks.

I hold the door that leads us outside into the cold crisp air of New York at nighttime. She steps out first and purrs when cold air hits her. I start walking her in the direction of the avenue so we can catch a cab. "I'm going to serenade you all night long so you can hear how beautiful my voice is and then you'll never call me cocky again because you'll know I'm right." I grin, squeezing her hands lightly to let her know I'm just joking.

She laughs, "I wouldn't mind that actually. I already know your voice is beautiful."

"Well then," I tap my free index finger to my chin, as if considering the possibility, "I'll remember that for posterity." Her eyes sparkle, rivaling the stars. It's not like we can see the stars anyway because of all the lights on in the buildings towering around us, but I imagine that Quinn's eyes hold constellations and constellations of stars in them. They're always so bright, illuminating everything around them, with mystery and a little bit of romance all wrapped together. "I love your eyes," I tell her. "Have I ever told you that?" I ask, bashfully looking down and biting a lip, but then meeting them again.

"No." She says, voice just as low as mine. We're walking close, to keep the heat going, but also because I just want to be as close to her as I can for as long as I have her tonight.

"Well, I do. They're so infinite."

She smiles softly, licking her lips in the process, "wow. Nobody has ever put it that way. You're smooth, Berry." She jokes, with a timid laugh.

"It's not a line." I say, just so she knows I'm not saying it just because we're here, together. Or because I plan to sleep with her at the end of the date or something insane like that. I say it because I mean it. I say it because I can't not look at them when they're near. I say it because they hold so much and promise so much. "It's true."

"Thank you." She says. "I actually think my eyes are really boring. I like yours." She shrugs. I let go of her hand for a second so I can step up closer to the street, but still on the curb so I don't get killed on the best night of my life, and signal for a cab to stop.

I step back so I'm next to her again and hold her hand again. "Your eyes are definitely not boring. It's like –" I start to think how I can put this into words for her. The taxi stops right in front of us, and just like I held the door of the dorm building for her, I open the car's door. She graciously nods and slides in. I follow close. I scoot forward to rest my elbows on the driver's and passenger's seat and say to the driver, "230 Fifth Avenue, please."

He just nods and takes off. I turn back to twinkling hazel and remember our conversation. I drop the timbre of my voice and turn toward her, still holding onto her hand, playing with her fingers. "Your eyes are warm and comforting but still bright," I start, gazes locked. "There are greens and yellows – amber and hazel at the same time – gold. They are magnets, pulling any other set of eyes to them, just to try to look a little longer and try to understand who the person behind them are. They're like the stars, you know? They provide a glimpse of what the universe is like; they promise us that there's more beyond than what we see. And your eyes are like that. They're the portals to who you are. When I look into your eyes, I just want to plunge in all that you are and explore the universe you hold."

I see her take in a quick breath and expel it as fast as she inhaled it. "If you keep talking like that, Berry, I don't know what I'll do to you." She comments, shaking her head, and dropping her eyes. She has a shy smile on her lips.

"So!" I say to answer her earlier question, "I'm going to take you out to dinner first and then we'll be going to a cool museum with stuff I think you'll enjoy. Or I hope you do anyway."

She beams, "I love museums!"

I'm nervous because maybe she's been to this museum, but I also have a trick up my sleeve and I hope it works out in my favor. "Good. I don't know how many museums you've been to in the city yet, but I'm more than willing to go to every one of them with you."

"Deal," She nods with excitement, "I've only been to the MoMA, it's kind of embarrassing."

"Nonsense. College life can take a lot of time. It's actually my first time going to this museum, too… Rubin Museum of Himalayan Arts?" I say trying to remember the name. "It sounded really interesting. They focus on the arts of – you guessed it – countries like Nepal, India, China…"

"I can't wait!" She chirps, "This might be my favorite date ever and it just started. Granted, it might have a little bit to do with the person I'm going with…"

"Just a little?" I bite back a smile and close an eye, looking at her with only one, hoping.

"Okay," she concedes, "maybe a lot."

"Just maybe?" I ask, my tone of voice rising and my eyebrows shooting up.

She laughs and squeezes my hand, "definitely."

Our incredibly tall waiter, clad in black and white with a bow tie and vest leads us to our table. The original plan had been to eat outside, in their rooftop garden, but it was too cold so I asked him if we could stay inside but by a window.

We're seated and the view is breathtaking. The city of New York really is as glorious as the movies make it look and being a part of it sometimes is still surreal to me. The waiter actually pulls out Quinn's chair for her. "Can I offer you ladies anything to drink?"

The lighting in here is low and the place is decorated with high-end furniture, in pink and purple. The bar, on the other side of the restaurant, offers everything one could possibly imagine. The menu of the restaurant has been appraised by many critics and their chef is ridiculously famous around the world.

I watch Quinn look around, mesmerized. "Rachel," She says, ducking her head to search my eyes. "This place… it's like, freaking expensive, isn't? She reaches for one of the menus that the waiter placed on the table and opens it. Her mouth drops; her jaw almost hits the table. "This is crazy!" She glances up at the waiter who's waiting with a pad in hand.

"It's no big deal, Quinn." I assure her and close the menu, taking it from her so she can look back at me. "Trust me, okay? Just… order whatever. It's on me." My fathers are both successful in what they do. Dad is a lawyer and Daddy is a doctor. They earn well, and that means I get a lot of money for allowance and I can do whatever I want with it. Usually the money goes toward lessons, new dance clothes or shoes, new outfits for theatre, new movies, new music, and spa days with Santana. Except this weekend, I have a much better reason to splurge. I smile and hand the menu back to her. "I'll have sweet tea to drink and she'll have…"

She still looks a bit worried but gives in, "I'll have the same, please." The waiter writes down our drinks order and leaves. She scans her options on the menu.

"Are you feeling adventurous?" I ask, leaning in a bit, with a secretive smile.

She nods, "Yes!" and leans in too, to hear what I have to say.

"How about… you pick something for me to eat and I'll pick something for you to eat?" I ask, and scan over the menu in my hands.

She hums, considering what I asked, and corks an eyebrow. "Deal!"

We both lean back and start going over their options. She keeps looking up at me over her menu, to check if I'm still looking, and I do the same. "Okay." She says after a good five minutes.

"Okay?" I ask.

"Okay. I know what I'll order for you." She says, closing the menu with a satisfactory smile and a triumphant look.

"This isn't a competition to see who orders the best food…," I ask, "right?"

"Everything can become a competition, Rachel." She still has a smug look on her face.

I can't fight off the smile, "of course. I should've known… head cheerleader has to have competition running through her veins. Okay, so what is it that I'll be having?"

She shakes her head and pointer finger, "nuh uh. I'll only tell Riley."

"The waiter?" I question.

"Yes! You can't know what you'll be eating and I don't want to know what you're asking for me either."

Since when did she take over the reins of this date? I don't even care though because I'm so excited to see what she'll order for me. Maybe she'll get it right on, and maybe I'll do a better job for her. It's still fun and fresh and thrilling and a little bit nerve-wrecking.

The waiter comes with our drinks and we each tell him our order separately, explaining we're ordering for each other and we don't want to know what the other asked for. He grins when I tell him what Quinn's having, as if he knows something neither of us does.

"Are you nervous?" I ask, trying to seem menacing.

"Why would I be? I know my choice was the best."

I smirk, "we'll just have to see. So," I take a sip of my tea, "tell me something about you that I don't know."

She looks sheepish, "well, what do you want to know?"

"Everything. Anything."

Quinn stirs her tea and ice with the straw provided and then smiles around it as she drinks. "Mmm, let's see. You know I cheerlead. I led my high school team to Nationals three times – I became head cheerleader as a sophomore." I nod, impressed, and motion for her to keep talking. "I was recruited by this school and Sylvester wanted me to come in as head cheerleader when I was a freshman but I didn't think it was a good idea, you know? I wanted to get to know the school and the cheerleaders more.

"My parents put me in gymnastics when I was 7 and right before I started middle school, I took up cheerleading. I've been doing it ever since."

"That's pretty cool. It's like me with singing. I've been singing for as long as I can remember."

"Tell me more about it, please?" She asks with a smile and carries some hair behind her ear.

I will tell her all she wants to hear. I sit up and mess with the cloth napkin on my lap, "I've won like, every competition I've ever participated in. Um, my dad Hiram put me in dance classes when I was 3 and my daddy Leroy thought he was crazy." I laugh thinking about the two. "But dad said I needed something to put all of my energy into! So I've been doing dance ever since. Singing just comes naturally. Both my fathers are great singers. My biological mother is too, but we hardly talk."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

I sigh, "She didn't want to take an interest in my life."

"It must've been hard. I don't know what I'd do without my mother."

I shrug, "whatever, you know? I still had two loving parents. But, your mom, do you guys get along?"

She smiles, "not so much when I'm at home, to be honest. But ever since I came to school here, I miss them a lot and understand a lot of the choices they've made, you know?"

I know. I appreciate my fathers a lot more after I left home. I've always wanted to live in New York but didn't understand how many sacrifices my parents had to make for me. "Yeah, totally. Do they ever visit you?"

"They usually come up for my birthday and for Nationals," she says.

I look down quickly and then at her, "do they know?"

"That I'm gay?" She asks with a charming smile, "Yes, they do. They weren't very fond of the idea at first but daddy has an older brother who's gay, so he tries to understand."

"I'd love to meet them." Her eyes widen a little, but then she smiles and agrees with a lip-biting grin. "Um, when's your birthday?"

"February 16."

"Two days after Valentine's day."

"Yes, in two weeks."

I decide to take a chance. I want her to be my valentine this year, and if everything works out, I want to meet her parents on her birthday. "So, do you already have any valentine's plans?"

"No, I don't." She admits, "I actually wasn't planning on… taking an interest in anyone. But, uh, I also wasn't expecting to meet you, so…" she trails off.

I giggle, "Is it too early for me to ask you if you'd like to be my valentine this year?"

"Um, okay, now I know your favorite color is red. I know your favorite musical is Les Mis; I know your birthday is in December. Favorite flowers are the gardenia, and favorite food is Italian." I nod to all of her assertions. "Okay, so tell me your favorite…" she thinks with a hand on her chin, "ooh! No! Tell me, like, a dream vacation."

"Alright. If I could choose any place to go, it'd probably be Ireland. Something about that place just calls to me. Now, your turn. Where would you go?"

"That's easy. Anywhere exotic, fun, and hot. The Caribbean, South America, Thailand, Hawaii – most definitely. Australia, Madagascar, and the Philippines."

I chuckle, "those are a lot of places."

"I suffer of wanderlust." She explains with a bright smile. Her attention gets stolen by Riley coming with our food.

"Here we go, ladies. Two orders of Lobster Mac and Cheese," says Riley. We look at each other with amused, confused faces and burst out laughing in the middle of the restaurant. The other patrons look at us with judging eyes but we don't care.

"We ordered the same thing for each other!" I point out, looking at mine and hers bowls of mac and cheese with five different kinds of cheese and lobster chunks.

She leans forward so we're out of Riley's hearing range and says with a whisper, "it looked like the safest option."

I laugh out loud, pulling my head up, "That was my reasoning too."

I wait for her to take the first bite to see if she likes it or if we should just get up and go find another place to eat. She takes the fork to her mouth and then hums with her eyes closed, fully tasting the bite. "Wow, this is amazing."

I take that as my cue and dig in as well, unable to contain my eyes from closing and a moan from escaping my mouth. "You're so right. This is so good."

"Good choice," she says to me.

"Thanks, you too," I retort.

She playfully sneers at me biting on the fork and then says, "I thought I was going to win this."

"You thought wrong, my friend."

We take a few bites in silence until she speaks, "what are your plans for the future, Rachel?"

I look at her and she's expecting an answer, chewing on her mac and cheese.

"Broadway." I say without an ounce of doubt. "The stage. The lights. The roles and the lines. The costumes and the music – everything about it."

"That's a pretty big dream," she muses. She licks her lips and then dabs at it with the napkin that had been resting on her lap before adding, "But you totally have the talent for it." It doesn't sound forced and it also doesn't sound like she's saying that just because. She says it so nonchalantly that I have to believe it.

"Thanks. How about you? Where do you see yourself in 'n' years?"

"In the future, I see myself traveling the world; learning new languages and cultures; meeting people who are completely different from me. Hopefully, I'll have my girlfriend, or fiancée, or wife by my side. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with my Anthropology major yet, but I figure what the hell, I've got a lifetime to figure it out."

"You just seem like the type of girl who would have everything planned out to the 'T,' you know?"

She laughs, "Yeah. I used to worry about it all the time. But, I don't know, I grew tired of it. Up until the summer before college, I thought I'd be going to Yale for like, law."

"Yale is an excellent school, Quinn!" I gush. "You must have some killer grades to be accepted there."

"Our school is pretty selective, too, Rachel."

"Yeah, but Yale! Yale is Ivy League stuff."

"But I'm glad I didn't go there." She says.

"Why not?" I ask, wondering.

She takes a second before replying, "I would've never met you otherwise now, would I?"

We're walking down 5th Avenue, hand in hand, on our way to the museum. We could've taken a taxi and it would've been a five minute drive, but Quinn wanted to walk. She wanted to feel the concrete under her feet and the smoke of the cars on her face. Her words, not mine. It was still cold but we were wrapped good in our coats and jackets, and staying close to one another helped.

We walk and make conversation about our childhoods. Quinn talks about her sister Frannie a lot. How they used to hang out in their tree house four hours on Sunday after church; how they used to fight over boys (Frannie is only two years older and Quinn always wanted the same boys she liked); how they rescued a bunny one time. She's adorable and listening to her talk about her childhood makes me wish I had been there and witnessed it.

It also makes me see that even though Quinn has grown up into a marvelous young lady she's still a child at heart and furthermore, not a lot of people get to witness that. Mostly because as head cheerleader she has to be focused and driven and others have to see her as an authoritative figure. But Quinn loves to dance and twirl and she loves colors and pretty and girly things like long skirts and wedges and flowers and cute animals and romantic destinations. I find myself liking her more and more. She doesn't even realize how truly beautiful she is because she's so humble even though she's accomplished so much.

Besides all of the trophies she's accumulate through cheerleading, Quinn has always been on the honor roll at school. Despite being terribly busy with cheer, she managed to keep a straight A's average through high school, earning a full ride to school here in New York with room and board covered. I mean, that's exceptional.

I end up telling her a little bit about my history with Finn. How he used to be a sweetheart and how he became bitter and just plain rude.

I'm about to tell her about Santana's outing when we arrive at the museum. It's one of New York's newest museums. The RMA has six stories of art to offer. The exterior has glass windows which allow us to see the inside. Nobody's in there because it's already way past 8, almost 9 and the museum closes at 6 p.m. on Saturday.

Quinn looks disappointed that we missed it open and I apologize. She smiles anyway and tells me it's alright. I excuse myself and text Santana. I get a reply quickly.

Santana: go ahead.

"Hey, how about we try anyway?"

"What?" she looks at me incredulously.

"Yeah. Come on!" I grab her by the hand and pull her toward the door. I glance back at her once before trying for it and the door gives in, opening without any trouble.

She looks worried. "Rachel!" she hisses and in all the time I've known her, I've never seen her look so pale and skeptical.

"What?" I ask innocently.

"What? What? How are we inside the RMA without it actually being open?" she asks, whispering harshly near my ear as I drag her behind me further into the museum.

We're found inside a great empty lobby except for a sculpture in front of the doors. I step down the few steps, landing us on the main floor. There are a few strategically placed lights on, to establish ambiance.

The floors are of a light wood and a spiral, modern-looking staircase is at the back. I turn to her with a confident smile, "we are not breaking the law." and then I call out, "Mr. Guerra?"

Quinn scans the room around us, trying to figure out what's happening. I hold on to her hand tight, trying to convey certainty.

A balding, Hispanic man wobbles down the stairs, pulling his tie up his neck. He is short with a goatee and mustache and a million dollar smile.

"Rachel!" he exclaims, pulling me away from Quinn and into a hug in one swift motion. She stands behind me and he wraps me up awkwardly in his arms and lifts me up in the bear hug. I'm being crushed by a small Mexican man, but I enjoy it. I love this dude.

"Mr. Guerra, you have to let me go if you want to meet... The girl I told you about." I push out of my mouth through a straining voice.

He lets go of me in an instant, turning his attention to the blushing but curious blonde behind us. He extends a hand and she grabs it confidently because handshakes are something she knows. "I'm Mr. Guerra. You must be Quinn." he says, staring her down with an approving look. He turns to me and says, "Dios Mio, Rachel. She is all that you said and more. Good job!"

"Right? Quinn, this is Mr. Guerra. He's the museum's director and he happens to be Santana's uncle. He's married to her mother's sister. I asked him if we could come here tonight for an hour after hours and he said it'd be no problem as long as he was here and we didn't touch any of the artwork."

She looks at me and realization dawns on her. Oh, this is legal after all. "Oh, hi!" she Grabs the hand she had let go and shakes it vehemently with both of hers, "thank you! Wow! This is an amazing gallery."

"Ah, well, we try." He says as nonchalant as he can be. "You girls go ahead and look around. I do have to leave in about an hour but have fun." He winks and disappears down a hallway, where I presume his office is.

I open my hand up to her and wait for her to take it, "Wanna look around?"

"Obviously!" She says, dumbfounded at what I've accomplished tonight. I'm pretty proud myself as well, not going to lie. I take us up to the first floor and we walk around slowly, looking at the art on the walls and on pedestals. I let her walk ahead of me, deciding which way she wants to go next; which painting to appreciate; which sculpture to marvel. And she does all of that alright. She drags me from one corner of the room to the other side. She makes us run up the stairs, and then she talks about which one she likes best from this room opposite to that other room.

I'm perfectly fine just watching her talk about art and other cultures as passionately as she does. She looks at me with round, bright eyes and tells me facts I didn't know and I'm sure other people don't as well, but she does. She knows them all and she doesn't even realize how amazing that is.

Being in this museum practically alone – if you ignore Mr. Guerra (and the janitor, currently cleaning the last floor) – at night is somewhat magical. There is an underlying mystique to the art found here tonight, and being able to share this with Quinn is truly special.

We're on the fourth floor, staring at an incredibly large painting of Buddha. Well, more like she's staring at it with a pensive expression and I'm staring at her, contemplating the finest art I've seen in this museum so far. "I'm so lucky to be here with you tonight." I whisper to the air around us.

Her face snaps to me, warm and glorious. Her eyes are gleaming but what's new, right? "Oh, Rachel. You don't know how lucky I am." She completely turns away from the painting toward me. She stands a little bit taller so my head automatically cranks upward so our eyes can meet. We just stare at each other for a good ten seconds; they're long and stretched, but I take advantage of every one I get to just be near her. My life at the moment feels like a really good dream and I hope that I'm not awakened by an angry Santana any time soon, snapping me out of it. I intertwine our fingers for the first time right here, and she instantly looks at our hands, to watch it happen. Her smile grows as our hands clasp tighter.

"We have to go," I announce.

"Okay," She says and looks at the painting one last time, before smiling back at me with excited eyes and a crinkled nose. "Lead the way."

We take the elevator downstairs and when we get to the first floor, Mr. Guerra is coming out of his office. "You girls have fun?" He asks, already pulling the green and gold tie off his neck.

"Absolutely!" Quinn almost yells, "Everything here is so beautiful. I'm so overwhelmed by it. Thank you so so so so so much." She lets go off my hand briefly to gesticulate how grandiose everything is but then her hand finds mine again as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Mr. Guerra smiles, "I'm glad you liked it."

"Thank you, Mr. Guerra. Seriously, you've been nothing short of amazing tonight." I step into his arms and hug him. "I'll see you at the barbeque in March?" I ask him, with a half-smirk.

"Definitely, Rach." He nods and walks us out. We all step into the chaos of New York's streets and he adds, "Please, tell your fathers I said hello. And tell Santana to come see me sometime this semester!"

"Of course. And you tell Mrs. Guerra I'm expecting some puposas at the barbeque."

He winks at me, "she'll be more than happy to make them for you." He turns to Quinn and concludes our conversation, "It was nice to meet you again, Quinn. This girl is a good one, I promise." He shakes her hand and leaves, walking South.

We walk the opposite direction to hail a taxi back to school. "He's nice." Quinn comments.

"He's awesome. I met him at the first Lopez-Guerra barbeque two spring breaks ago, our senior year spring break. He told me then that he worked here and that I could come whenever. Santana is like, his favorite niece, and he and his wife were outraged to find out what happened to her at school but they loved me as soon as they heard what I did."

"That's right; you never really told me what happened." She says as she signs for a cab to stop. He screeches to a halt right in front of us and I open the door. We both get in and I tell him to take us back to our school's campus.

I smile sadly because that's not really something that I want to talk about during our first date. "I'll tell you soon, I promise."

"I'll hold you up to that, Berry." She says in a faux stern voice.

"No problem," I assure her. "So, tell me and spare no horrid details, please, but did you have fun tonight?" I glance down to where our hands sit tangled. I caress the back of her hand with my thumb and look back up at her with wonder.

She leans back into the seat's cushion, "Yes. Everything was perfect."

"Great! Tell me which one was your favorite at the museum tonight?"

"That I can do."

"What's your favorite band?" I ask her when the taxi is turning into campus.

She thinks for a minute, "Noah and the Whale."

"I think I heard many of their songs on your iPod. My favorite I think was... Uh, My Chance?"

"waiting for my chance to come," she corrects me giggling.

"Yes! that one!"

"I love that one but my favorite is Five Years Time!"

"I can't remember that one," I say trying to come up with lyrics or music but I draw a blank.

She looks at me with disapproving (but still smiling) eyes and sings.

Oh well in five years' time we could be walking round a zoo

With the sun shining down over me and you

And there'll be love in the bodies of the elephants too

And I'll put my hands over your eyes, but you'll peep through

And there'll be sun sun sun

All over our bodies

And sun sun sun All down our necks

And sun sun sun

All over our faces

And sun sun sun

So what the heck.

Her voice is great! It's soft but it's a tremulous alto that makes me want to wrap myself in sheets and let her sing all day long, and that's coming from me who'd rather sing than listen most times. The entire time she's singing she has a giddy attitude and gesturing all the words like '5' with her left hand spread open, and 'zoo' with an arm in front of her nose dangling it dangerously like an elephant. I laugh at her antics but remember the song and yeah, that sounds about right.

The taxi actually drops us off right in front of her dorm and after paying him, we both make our way inside the lobby and up the stairs. We still haven't let our hands go but I don't want to. I want I all to myself always. The more time I spend with her, the less time I want to be apart from her.

We hover in front of her room and wait for a couple of girls to pass on their way downstairs.

"I had a really great time, Rachel." She says, and steps forward, wrapping her arms around my waist.

I wrap mine around her neck and we hug, "me, too. The best time." I squeeze her tighter and smell that delicious scent that follows her around up closely.

We let go and she says, "Thank you. Everything was amazing."

"You're amazing." I say and then peck her slowly but firm on her cheek.

Her head drops down when she feels my cold lips on her cheek and she sighs contently. "Good night, then." I don't want to kiss kiss her yet because I want her to know I like her and respect her and I want to take this slow; for her to set the pace.

"Good night," I whisper in her ear and leave, already dreaming of our next date. "I'll call you tomorrow." I tell her as I start to walk away. I walk a few steps then turn around to watch her watch me leave. When I reach the stairs, I hear the door unlock, open and shut. And I float back to my dorm.

I twirl into my room, flopping down on Santana's lap with my legs dangling to the side while she's using her computer at her desk. She looks like she's working on something extremely important for a class but she stops it anyway and holds me by the waist. "Berry," she says with a laughing voice. She's in a good mood. She's happy for me.

"It. Was. Awesome." I tell her, accentuating each word. "She is damn awesome." I squeal and hug her, wrapping my arms around her and she hugs me back. When the embrace is over, I stay seated on her lap and say, "I really like this girl. Like, a lot."

"I know. Do you have actual news or-?" She asks and then laughs when I slap her shoulder.

"You know what I mean!"

"You're whipped as fuck already and you just started hanging out hanging out." She says, laughing louder and trying to open her laptop back up around me as a joke. She wants to seem like she doesn't care about how the date went because she knows it'll upset me and I'll want to gush about it for days.

"San!" I whine. She huffs and tosses her behind her shoulders.

"Fine. Sorry. So, did you want to tell me about the date?" She taps on my butt lightly so I can get up and I do with a pout. "Tell me while you change. Your jeans are really uncomfortable rubbing up on my bare thighs." She caresses her tanned thighs where I can see red streaks where the back pockets of my jeans marked her; the shorts she's wearing are definitely short shorts.

"Sorry 'bout that," I say pointing to it. She just shrugs.

I walk over to my dresser and pick my grey sweats with the school logo on it and a tank top. I take off my bra and put up my hair in a ponytail and then sit on the floor with my back to the dresser, sitting perpendicular to her desk, "You know how the stars are freaking amazing?"