A/N: I know you're probably getting sick of all my excuses for not updating, but I'm trying. Really I am. And I've been trying to get a chapter up every weekend. So even though it's past 10 PM California time, which means 1AM for all you East Coasters, I hope you still know that I honestly tried to get this up on Sunday. I can't believe that I'm on Chapter 10! I started this out with a short single chapter just because it popped into my mind, and nine chapters later, I'm still having fun with it! Yay!

Also, I did write a Quinn hurt/comfort one shot earlier this week, hoping to tide anyone that wanted more Quinn over until I could update this story again. Unfortunately, only one person felt compelled to read/review. (Thanks to my faithful friend, lifeisveryshortsoami, who I threatened to behead via Twitter if she didn't read/review. So basically no one chose to read it. Oh well.) So anyways, if anyone was unaware of its existence and wants to read it, feel free! It deals with the absence of Quinn's father and how it affects her as she approaches her wedding.

Also, I will again remind you about my SWAC (Sonny/Chad pairing) fic, that I've currently written one chapter of. I am unsure as to whether or not I will finish it at the moment, but I will definitely wait until I am done writing this story.

THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone that has read/reviewed this story so far. You guys make me want to keep writing. I really appreciate every single review. If you read but don't review, feel free to just say hi! Thanks so much! Also, let me know in your review if you want me to read/review any of your work. I don't post reviews that often usually, but I'd love to return the favor, so… let me know!

And now, I'm getting back to the actual story. I still don't own any of the licensed Glee characters. Thanks.

I stayed there, slouched in my chair at the table for a long time. I don't know how long, but it felt like forever. I didn't get up to turn the overhead light on, even though the room had grown dark save for the light above the stove. I did nothing except sit there, wondering why I had again made such a terrible mistake. I hadn't let myself relieve the first breakup Sam and I had had, back in high school, since the very day it occurred.

But now I knew that it was time to go back. I had to remember that first breakup, so many years before. It had been so different, and yet so much the same. But the pain was more real this time, as it reminded myself that I was once again completely and utterly alone. In that knowledge, I put my head down and replayed the memory, finally forcing myself into a flashback I hadn't allowed myself to have in a long time.

We were in my backyard again, but it wasn't the same as it had been the day we'd made our promises. It was winter now, and the trees were bare skeletons. There was snow on the ground, but not much, and it was melting anyway. I'd requested a private talk with Sam, and he'd happily obliged, not guessing the nature of the conversation I intended. As I walked, I hardened myself, protecting myself form the hurtful words I knew I was about to deliver. As I had begun to speak, he'd only stood there silently, as though he didn't want to believe what I was saying. I didn't blame him. I didn't want to believe it either.

"Quinn, how could you do this?" Sam's voice was soft, but I almost wished he was yelling. Somehow the quiet disappointment seemed a thousand times worse than any screaming.

"Sam, please understand! I don't have a choice. I have to break up with you." I hoped he would understand from the pleading in my voice that I didn't want to do it anymore than he did.

"You don't have to do anything." He said. "I know you've been hurt before. Do you think I haven't? You mean something to me, Quinn. I would never hurt you."

I shook my head, as though doing so would stop reason from creeping into my thoughts. "Sam, I can't go on like this anymore. This year was supposed to be about me. I have to get focused, keep my grades up. I don't have time to be with you." Even as I said the words, they killed me.

"This doesn't make sense." He said, looking at me intently as if to make me crack and say it was all a joke.

"What doesn't make sense?" I asked. "Sam, I've told you everything. I want out. I don't love you anymore. That's it." My voice was firm, unwavering. I watched as the words, my lie, broke him.

"Then that's all you had to say." He said quietly. His eyes were filling with tears, and I watched as he turned away and slowly began walking toward the gate that would lead him out of my backyard, his footsteps softly crunching on the leftover snow.

"Sam!" I called, immediately wanting to fix the mistake I'd just made.

He turned around. "We're done, Quinn. I never thought you'd do this to me."

"Can we still…?" I trailed off; he knew what I meant.

Slowly, carefully, he shook his head. "I can't be friends with someone like you, Quinn. Someone who takes love and messes it all up. I should've known. But I guess you aren't who I thought you were."

"No, Sam, please." The begging was back in my voice now. When I'd thought about ending it before, I had never imagined it would hurt so much.

"I just can't believe you would just end it like this." He said, and I couldn't tell whether he was talking to me or himself. "I guess I thought I meant something to you. After all we've been through together. I just never imagined you'd make me feel like this."

"Sam, I swear, I…" I trailed off again, not even knowing what I was going to say in the first place.

"Save it, Quinn." He said, turning away again. "I don't think I can stand another minute with you. Goodbye."

With that, he walked away. And we didn't speak again for the rest of high school.

I had hated myself for doing it, I really had. But at the same time, I felt that it was necessary. I had fallen too hard for Sam. And I knew from experience that I couldn't let myself be so vulnerable for anyone again. I knew that I had to break Sam's heart in order to protect myself. So, as much as it killed me, I did it. And looking out for number one never, even in the years that followed, hurt so badly.

I remembered the weeks following our breakup just as clearly as I remembered our final conversation. I hadn't felt so alone since I'd learned about Rachel. After awhile, I started to heal. But the thing about moving on is that it doesn't mean you forget.

I still had to see Sam at school every day, after all. But we stopped saying hello to each other, and people, surprisingly enough, gave us our space. Mr. Schuester stopped pushing us to do duets, and whenever we happened to hang around the same group of friends, we didn't interact with each other. I think the space helped me heal, actually. I doubt jumping into a friendship with Sam would have allowed me the time I needed. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt to see him, flirting with different girls as he began his own healing process.

But this was different. That was last time, and this time I had no idea what the future held. And I had no idea what I was supposed to do. So I didn't do anything. I let a week pass, then two, and still no call from Sam.

After two weeks had gone by, I began to wonder if I should make the first move. I had expected us to be friends again by then, and it made me wonder if Sam and I had really been as close as I thought we were. With no other idea, I turned to Facebook. I was surprised that Sam hadn't unfriended me if he meant for our separation to be so dramatic, but then I realized that that didn't really mean anything. Perhaps he was just too caught up in his new relationship with Santana.

And sure enough, Sam and Santana were officially in a relationship. At least, that's what Facebook told me. I briefly wondered which would hurt more: not knowing about their relationship or having to hear every detail about it from Sam. For the first time, I was momentarily grateful he wasn't speaking to me.

But I knew just as well that if I ever wanted to reconcile, I had to step up and tell him. Over the years, I'd learned not to expect much from people. Everyone is going to hurt you, and everyone is going to let you down. And if you don't want to suffer, you better make your own decisions. You can't just wait around for someone else all the time. So it was with this in mind that I made my first step towards reconciling with Sam. After a deep breath, I scanned my phone for a number I hadn't used in years. And then, I called Santana.

"Quinn Fabray?" She asked, picking up. "Did you just call a wrong number?"

"No." I said, hoping my voice wasn't trembling as much as my hands were. "I meant to call you."

"Okay..." She said. "So…what's going on?"

"How's Lima?" I asked, unwilling to bring the conversation around to what, or rather, who, I really wanted to talk about.

"I guess it's okay." She answered. "I mean, it's nice to be back. But it's more weird than nice, I guess. It's so different here than what I've gotten used to."

Before I could lose my courage, I blurted out. "So, I hear you're with Sam Evans now."

"Yeah." She said. "But I'm going back to LA pretty soon. I'm trying to convince him to come with me."

I felt my stomach drop. "You're pretty serious, then?"

"Let's just say I think one of us is going to be asking a pretty important question pretty soon." She answered, and I mentally tried to convince myself I'd misunderstood her.

'It's too soon in their relationship,' I thought. 'She can't really mean that.' It's funny how lying to yourself is so easy sometimes, and so heartbreakingly difficult other times. Or I suppose funny isn't exactly the word. But you know what I mean.

I guess I was silent a few seconds too long, because she then said, "Quinn, why are you really calling me?"

I didn't honestly have an answer ready for that, so I said, "I just haven't talked to Sam in awhile, and I wanted to know how the two of you were doing. You know, girl-to-girl."

Apparently she saw through my act, because Santana's voice was suddenly sharp, instantly reminding me of our high school days. "Look." She said. "Let me make something very clear. I don't know what you did to Sam, and quite frankly I don't even care. I just know that everytime he starts to talk about you, he stops himself, like he's not allowed to say your name. But you know what, Quinn? I don't care about that either. All I want is to send a message to you: Sam Evans is mine now, and he's not coming back to you. We're done here." And with that, she hung up on me.

Whatever confusion I had had about making up with Sam was all gone in that moment. If there was one thing I had learned in high school, it was that Quinn Fabray never, ever stops until she gets what she wants. And I knew then what my next step was: it was time to take down Santana Lopez.

A/N: Two things: one, yes, I am very sorry for the awful cliffhanger. Tune in next week! And two, I felt this chapter, which may seem like some kind of filler to you, needed to come out, because some people were asking what happened during Quinn and Sam's original breakup. So I thought I should throw this story in there. Oh! One last thing, thing number three, I apologize for the lack of Sam in this chapter. I assure you, he'll be back and better than ever very, very soon.