Rachel always believed that fame was one of those things that she will never tire of, no matter how many paparazzo she fights, nor how busy her life becomes. Fame, applause... She lived for those things like Tinkerbell, and she wanted nothing more than to live the Broadway dream by breathing in the cries of the crowd at her job well done.
She stares at the ceiling of her empty apartment. In her arm chair, a tumbler of chai tea in her hand, no artificial means could seem to warm her. Despite being dressed in her warmest knit sweater, Rachel still shivered. She rubbed her hands along her arms, but it did nothing, so she wrapped herself in a blanket.
The heat was broken.
One letter masked what is truly wrecked. One letter made all the difference.
Each time she allowed herself the downtime to think, Rachel's imagination often wandered to Quinn. She wanted to know how many women she had touched in a day. How many cried out her name as they came. But in all honesty, thinking about it only enabled annoyance and a rage she had no idea how to control.
Rachel didn't want to think about Quinn being with anyone else but her.
In frustration, Rachel got up and shrugged on her winter coat. After sending Brittany a quick text, they agreed to meet up in their favourite diner. A quick bus ride later, Rachel sat on a booth and played Candy Crush on her phone while she waited.
"Hey, what's wrong? That was a pretty urgent-sounding text." Brittany asked, pink-cheeked and breathless as she slid in the booth in front of Rachel. "And I hope you're ready to face Santana's wrath." She tucked her phone back in her purse and locked her fingers on the table.
"I just needed to get out of the house. All this idle time is not good for me. Ever since we finished filming the movie, I have too much free time on my hands." Rachel sucked in a sharp breath to slow down the flood of words she wanted to speak. "I'll give Santana a gift basket or something to make up for this."
"I get that." Brittany nodded sagely, patting Rachel's hand before ordering coffee for herself. "But in two weeks you'd be wishing you appreciated that alone time more."
Rachel nodded. "I know." She nibbled the inside of her bottom lip. "How's Quinn?"
It was the first time in weeks that Rachel spoke her name out loud, and it was easier than she thought, like an incantation she memorized long ago. The sound of Quinn's name in her own voice still had the same effect—pleasant with the aftertaste of missing her. She watched Brittany's features as she took her time adding cream and sugar to her cup.
"She's fine, why do you ask?"
Rachel shrugged. "I was just curious, that's all."
Brittany squeezed Rachel's hand in hers. "Rae, in another life, I have no doubts that you and Quinn would be good for each other. But in this world, I don't think it's smart to entertain the idea of being in a relationship with Quinn."
"Did she tell you how she feels about me?" Rachel demanded, hands clenched into fists. It was hard to hear, but she had to, if only for the peace of her mind.
"She did," Brittany's voice dropped into a low volume that forced Rachel to lean in closer in order to hear. "But it's not my position to interfere between you two. Just know that Quinn's feelings for you are real." Hearing this, Rachel sat back, wide-eyed and shocked. Brittany smiled. "I've never seen anything affect Quinn the way you do, Rachel."
She sipped her coffee, filled with delight at the taste and the satisfying news she just received. She could see any other course of action but to say. "Brittany, I need to see Quinn. And soon."
"I can't just do that." Brittany argued. "That's not an information that is mine to give, and you agreed not to see her again."
"I can change my mind whenever I want." Rachel huffed. "The things I say are not set in stone. And I realize now that it's not that easy to keep me away from someone like Quinn. Someone who makes me feel amazing in more ways than one." Rachel closed her eyes, memories of Quinn's effect on her thundering through her like a shotgun to her chest. "With Quinn it's not just happy or sad or pleasure or pain. It's always both. Something complex and hard to name." Rachel raised her eyes to Brittany's and saw her baby blue eyes, stark and bright and sympathetic. "Brittany, please."
"Oh god, alright already! You should stop playing on my weakness for happy endings, Rachel. It's not fair." Brittany huffed as she scribbled down Quinn's address on a napkin. She slid it across the table and Rachel immediately snatched it up.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Rachel lunged over the table and hugged Brittany, her elbow almost tipping the ketchup bottle if it weren't for Brittany's lightning fast reflexes. "You're the best, Brittany."
She chuckled and patted Rachel on the back. "I know."
Despite Rachel's enthusiasm upon receiving Quinn's home address, she was unable to muster up the courage to ride the train to visit her. It took her three days of staring at the piece of crumpled paper, debating and arguing with herself as she paced around her home on whether she should pay Quinn a visit or not.
She understood then that before going to see Quinn, first she must have a conversation with certain people. Like Steven and Elle, for example.
The conversation with Steven was easier than singing notes in their perfect pitch. He continued to support Rachel and her romantic endeavours, no matter how small. And when Rachel told him that she made up her mind and that she was so ready to see Quinn again, he was nothing but smiles and hugs.
"I'm so proud and happy for you," Steven said after squeezing the air out of Rachel. "And I want you to go for it. Let's deal with any dumb scandal—if they even come—later. Besides," he grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "I kinda just met this girl and we hit it off, so. This is good news to me. I'm still really happy for you, Rach!"
The last person on her list was Elle. Rachel bucked up and headed to her office on a particularly warm mid-morning. She unwrapped her scarf from around her neck, regretting missing her train because of her desire to be prepared. The elevator doors hissed open, and Rachel rode it up to the highest floor. The marble floors clicked beneath her heels as Rachel approached Elle's secretary who nodded to her in acknowledgement.
Rachel was allowed in Elle's office within the minute, which was surprising since she was a very busy woman. She sat down on the leather couch and eyed the woman who eyed her back. "It's nice to see you, Rachel." Elle began. "How's Steven?"
"Steven's fine." Rachel said. "I'm here to simply tell you something, and I don't care what you think or say."
Her thin eyebrow raised, Elle tapped her lacquered nails against her desk. "But by coming here, you obviously need me to hear what you have to say. You made an appointment and everything. How interesting."
Rachel clenched her fist, urging herself to not lose control. "I'm going to see Quinn again," she said without any preamble. She was done toeing the lines of what was expected of her and what she wanted to do. She waited long enough. "I missed her. I know she feels something for me, and I want to have her in my life."
Elle sighed, her fingers massaging her temples. "As you said, you don't care what I say or think. You don't care that I know more than you. The fact of Quinn's career alone is enough to ruin you, Rachel. Do you understand me? News of what she is will leak—jealous ex-girlfriends, her clients… Did you think this through?"
As much as she loathed to admit, no. Rachel didn't think this through, and she said so. "But," she insisted. "This isn't something I want to think about. I don't have to be rational over love."
"So you love her?" Elle asked in disbelief. "You have sex with her and what? That's love to you?"
"I admit that we got the order wrong," Rachel gritted. Elle was hitting all the sore spots, but she refused to back down; refused to change her mind regarding this. "We had sex first, and we have yet to get to know each other. But I think that I deserve to know what it would be like to be with Quinn. She is a risk I'm willing to take."
Elle said nothing for a few minutes. "Alright, fine. I won't interfere. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Relief flooded Rachel, despite her earlier claims. In the end, she needed that approval. She needed to know that she was free to pursue Quinn without interference. "Thank you so much."
It was time.
Rachel stepped up into the light of the New York's surface to pay Quinn a visit. Brittany, being the majestic help that she was, made sure to text Quinn, asking if she was home. Rachel sucked in a wintry cold breath and walked into Quinn's apartment building. The doorman allowed her in, much to Rachel's confusion. Nevertheless, she went up to the sixth floor and knocked on the door.
"Come in," she heard someone say from within. Obeying, Rachel turned the knob and stepped in Quinn's home. A simply furnished space with oaky tones surrounded by neutral colours, Quinn's apartment was bright and smelled faintly of old leather. Quinn was standing by her desk, leafing through her mail. "Rachel."
She whispered Rachel's name almost reverently, but Rachel didn't want to get her hopes up just yet. Her throat bobbed, and it all felt surreal that after weeks and months reimagining Quinn's features, her presence alone knocked the air out of Rachel's lungs. "Quinn."
"Brittany told me you were coming." Quinn smiled. Everything about her looked so easy, from her posture to the way she motioned to the couch. Rachel sank on it, the fabric rich with Quinn's ever-present scent. "Three days ago. But today is a good day as any. Do you want coffee or tea?"
"Neither, thanks. I just had some." Rachel smiled. Now that she was here, she had no idea how to go about telling Quinn that she wanted to be with her. There seemed no easy way to say it.
"What are you doing here, really? Brittany didn't tell me a reason. She just mentioned that you might pay me a visit." Quinn leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "We're not supposed to see each other, remember?"
"Yes, I know." Rachel sighed. "But I don't care about any of that anymore. I'm done with the film. They can't fire me anymore without trashing the entire thing. There might be a scandal, but… I really don't care."
Quinn stared at her, hazel eyes like love in starlight. Rachel refused to lose herself in them before she said what she wanted to say. "I'm here because I miss you. Brittany told me that your feelings are realer than anything she has ever seen, and…" Rachel swallowed hard. "Quinn, I need to tell you this. You make me feel many things—things that I never thought possible or real. I've always been the good girl in life and love that being with you is so exhilarating and new."
"So you're saying that I'm just one of those experiences you have, like smoking pot or mixing your hard liquor or shoplifting a pair of socks?" Quinn asked, a distinct tightness in her voice. She smiled, like a guitar string pulled taut. "I thought I could be more than that."
"No! That's not what I meant at all!"
Rising from her seat to pace the length of her apartment, Quinn ran her fingers through her hair as if to comfort herself, when Rachel wanted nothing more than to be the one caressing, the one comforting. "I understand, I think. After all, people like me are here for cheap thrills. You, Rachel, deserve more than what I can offer. We both know it." She stopped in front of Rachel, while she looked at her, mouth slightly agape at what she was hearing. "You're afraid that with my job, something like this would happen again. That I would find someone like I found you, right?"
Rachel shot up and gripped Quinn's palm. Her hand was clammy and trembling slightly, but she didn't pull back from Rachel's steady, warm hand. She pulled her close until their noses were touching and everything in Rachel's vision was blurry save for Quinn. "No, Quinn. That's not true. I don't know if I love you, but I know that I can."
The blonde licked her lips as they grazed Rachel's lightly. She stepped back and smoothed her shirt out. "I quit my job." Quinn murmured. "Not only because I don't want you to feel like I would ever cheat on you at a drop of a hat, but because I'm tired. Not of sex, but of the lack of stability in my life." Reaching out, she traced the line of Rachel's jaw for a brief second. "I'm not really cut out for a life of just sex. I want to try a life of something more than that. And I want you to show me that life."
Rachel felt at a loss. She didn't know whether to lunge for Quinn's lips and taste her after weeks of abstinence, or to hold her hand. "Does that mean you… want to be with me?"
The heater cut on, and for a minute its whirring was all Rachel could hear. But when Quinn's lips parted as she spoke, Rachel heard nothing else. "I do." She whispered. "But I want you to make sure that you want to be with me as much as I do."
"But I'm here, aren't I? I'm here, and I want you." Rachel balled her fists. "What more could you want?"
Quinn cupped Rachel's fists and pried them open, finger by finger, before kissing her upturned palm. "I want you, for sure. But I need you to know me. Not just how I can make you feel." She smiled and lifted Rachel's arms to rest against her shoulders and curl around her neck. She rested her palms on the swell of Rachel's hips, causing her to shiver at Quinn's proximity. "And I have an idea. Think of it as our first date."
If Rachel had to describe the happiness that swelled within her from Quinn's words, she would describe it in a kiss. For her, words weren't enough, so she tightened her hold on Quinn and devoured her mouth. Rachel felt Quinn's smile, and for that moment she forgot how to breathe. "A date sounds great, Quinn."
today's proverb:"Without you my air tastes
like nothing. For you
I hold my breath." Invitation, Mary Szybist.
