Quinn and I talked long after the sun had set. After the cliffnotes of our life stories, we continued to talk about everything and anything.
Quinn told me more about Glee club. She told me about Finn. And how he seemed to always change his mind about who he wanted once he got them. The constipated face that he makes. She talked about he tried to step up when he thought that it was his baby, trying to find a job to pay her medical bills. And the lie she had told him when she found out she was pregnant.
She talked about Puck. How he had also stepped up when he found out she was pregnant. About the time they had babysat their music teacher's wife's sister's kids.
She talked about Rachel, and how she had the biggest heart, that no matter how badly Quinn had treated her, Rachel always supported Quinn. About how Rachel sang a lot. About how ambitious she was and how Quinn was so jealous of that ambition and drive and certainty of her future. About how she and Rachel had so often fought over Finn.
She talked about Santana and Brittany who were her best friends. She talked of sleepovers and catfights and cruelty and something called Lima-Heights Adjacent. She talked of Cheerios and insane cheerleading routines.
I talked about Alison and Aria and Hanna and Emily. I talked about sleepovers and fights and blackmail. I talked about Ian and Wren and about getting involved in places I shouldn't be. I talked about Jenna and Toby and about that night. The Jenna Thing. I talked about Field Hockey and parents and sisters.
Parents and sisters. That was something we had in common. "Perfect" sisters. Lawyer fathers. The difference in our families seemed only to be our mothers. My mother was independent and smart and also a lawyer. Quinn's mom seemed to be more of a 1950s housewife, apparently with a drinking problem.
We talked about hopes and dreams and fears of being stuck in the same life as our parents. Or worse, the life we think our parents want for us. Not that my parents have ever been so clear about that.
We talked so much and so long that by the time we stopped talking in was nearly midnight, and we both had several missed calls and texts and voicemails.
It was funny, I hadn't even heard our phones go off.
"I should get you home before your parents think I kidnapped you," I said.
Quinn laughed lightly. "They won't be worried. At least my father won't be."
I understood. She had told me all about Russell Fabray.
"Well I think your mother will worry, even if it doesn't seem like it," I said.
Quinn nodded.
"My parents are probably freaking out. With everything that's happened here these past few years…," I trailed off.
"Thank you," Quinn said.
I wasn't sure what Quinn was thanking me for, but I said "You're welcome," anyway.
I stood up and offered my hand for Quinn to take. As I helped her up, I noticed her hand was cold. Really cold.
"You're freezing," I said. "Take my jacket."
I shrugged off my blazer and wrapped it around Quinn even as she protested and said she was fine.
We walked together back down the path using our cell phones as lights. The silence was comfortable and I was simply reveling in being with Quinn. Just being near her.
Our hands touched, and in that moment I let my hand wrap around hers. I looked at her, to make sure this was okay, but she was simply looking straight ahead with a smile on her face.
Our hands swayed back and forth together. Back and forth, back and forth. A part of me wished we could stay like this forever, but we couldn't. We have to go back and face the real world. The friends and the parents and the stress and the school and all the things that comprise our lives.
When we reached my car, I held the passenger door open for Quinn. Once we were both safely tucked inside the car, my hand instinctively reached for hers again.
Quinn told me her address. I knew where it was. Just around the corner from Aria's.
As I drove the dark streets of Rosewood, all I could think about was the beautiful girl sitting beside me, holding my hand.
All the talking we'd done today and we hadn't talked about us. What we could be. What we wanted to be? What we were doing.
I pulled into the driveway and Quinn said. "Thank you for tonight."
"Can I take you out this weekend?" I blurted out. Smooth Spencer.
"On a date, I mean. Can I take you out on a date this weekend?" I added.
Quinn smiled. "What did you think tonight was?"
I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. I ducked my head nervously.
"So then I can kiss you goodnight?" I asked.
"You're asking now?" Quinn asked, almost incredulously.
She had a point. This was the first time I'd asked her, though I'd kissed her twice already.
"I'm asking now," I said.
Quinn gave a subtle nod of her head. And I slowly leaned it.
This kiss was different. It was beautiful and perfect (and actually consensual this time) and it sparked hope and longing in me.
When we broke the kiss, and Quinn caught her breath she said, "Yes, you can take me out this weekend."
I smiled brightly at her. "Goodnight Quinn," I said. I pecked her on the lips.
"Goodnight Spencer," Quinn almost whispered, and then she was out of the car.
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