Author's Note: This chapter contains some direct quotes from the season finale of season 2, "New York." Thus, any quotes that are from the show belong to the show's writers.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Rachel knew it was Quinn before she even opened the door.
"You can come in, Quinn."
The blonde tentatively pushed the hotel room door ajar and slipped inside, looking downcast until she heard the loud thud of the heavy door close behind her.
"How'd you know it was me?" She didn't realize her voice fell to a whisper until she saw Rachel lean in to hear her out of the corner of her eye.
Now, it was Rachel's turn to look downward, although she straightened her posture at the desk where she sat, "Lucky guess."
"Oh? You sure you didn't hear my wings flap? Being a 'vindictive harpy' and all, it's pretty hard to keep from making a lot of noise when I fly around." The bitterness in her voice startled even Quinn, herself, but she didn't betray that as she strode towards her open suitcase to look for something she didn't care about.
Rachel felt her hear sink. She heard me. A silence fell over them as Rachel tugged nervously at her gold necklace, too paralyzed with fear to apologize and explain herself. Instead, she changed the subject. Mistress of diversion. "You didn't have to knock, you know. It's your hotel room, too."
"Well, I didn't know if you were in here with someone." Quinn stuffed her jacket angrily into her suitcase and tugged forcefully at the strained zipper.
"You mean, in here with Finn." Before Rachel could stop herself, she had opened up Quinn's wound again.
At that, Quinn paused and slowly lifted her eyes to meet Rachel, who had swiveled her chair around to face the blonde. "Yeah," she spat, "your man."
Rachel's instinct was to deny it but then she paused and rolled Quinn's accusation over in her head.
"You never told me why you watched me audition."
"To be honest, Berry, you would have found out exactly why I was there except the slaughterhouse delivered the pigs' blood to the wrong auditorium." Quinn smirked cruelly until she noticed Rachel's gaze had trained unwaveringly on her.
"You're lying." Rachel's reply was simple, but the force of it left Quinn disarmed.
"Excuse me?" Quinn's face grew hot and she gripped her suitcase to keep her hands from trembling.
"I don't believe you."
The girls locked eyes, both trying in vain to read one another when the door swung open and the rest of the Glee girls along with Kurt piled into the room, talking excitedly. Their laughter was a welcome reprieve to Rachel and Quinn until it stopped. When their friends saw who was already in the room and noticed the expressions on the girls' faces, they knew they had ambled into the middle of a stand-off. Santana was the first to break the silence by huffing loudly and stomping over to get her nail file from her suitcase.
"So," Kurt felted compelled to ease the tension, "guess whose nanny I saw in the park while we were singing!"
Rachel was grateful for the interruption. She slowly turned around in her chair and poured over her many drafts of song lyrics. After all, somebody had to get to work.
"Whose?" Tina plopped onto one of the beds and Brittany climbed over her to seize the empty Styrofoam cup that had been her muse earlier that afternoon.
"Well, I've seen her several times in US Magazine, and I'm pretty sure it was Sarah Jessica Parker's! Their strollers were identical." Kurt clapped his hands and bounced up and down for dramatic flair.
Even Quinn cracked a smile at his boundless enthusiasm. Mercedes slid down beside her, offering her friend a small smile of comfort. She knew how hard it was on Quinn seeing Rachel and Finn together and she could only imagine what the two girls were fighting about before they walked in.
Santana never paused from filing her nails and shrugged her shoulders at Kurt's excitement before admitting, "Okay, that is pretty cool. But I guess I'm more of a Samantha than a Carrie."
Lauren snorted, "I bet you are…"
Santana quirked her eyebrow and paused, mid-file, "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Zices?"
"Nothin'. Just that you like a face-full."
Kurt and the girls became wary of the knife-like way Santana was gripping her nail file and they sat on the edge of their seats, ready to get between the two.
"A face-full of what, exactly?"
The group was frozen, bearing witness to their own high-def version of West Side Story with no Officer Krupke to cut in. Before anyone could stop her, Lauren reached for the down pillow beside her and walloped Santana in the face with it, sending her nail file clattering on the ground.
Even Rachel stopped her feverish brainstorming to turn around, mouth agape at Santana who was slack-jawed and covered in feathers.
"Oh, hell no!" Santana leapt from the arm chair and grabbed hold of the pillow underneath Brittany's head. She tugged it out from under her with such force that she sent Brittany tumbling to the ground beside the bed. Lauren scurried behind Tina for protection, but soon, Santana was knocking Lauren's glasses off with the furious pummeling of her pillow. Soon enough, the entire room had devolved into feathers and giggle fits and even Quinn rose to the occasion when Brittany grabbed her hand and pulled her up to bounce on the bed.
Quinn allowed herself to laugh, really laugh. Belly laugh. She needed it. If she just focused on jumping from bed to bed and slamming her pillow against anyone within reach, she could will Rachel out of her mind, even if the little brunette sat only feet away, still writing studiously. Quinn had used this trick when she was a little girl. Whenever her parents would fight, she'd steal away into the backyard and bounce on the trampoline, going around and around in circles until she collapsed from dizziness. Quinn could know joy. She just always had to keep moving so she didn't think too long about too much.
In her private life, Rachel wasn't nearly as committed to acting as Quinn was, and she sat sullenly at the desk, writing new lyrics for Nationals only to scratch them out again.
Enough with the distractions.
Rachel crumpled up her umpteenth draft of a half-written song and tried to ignore the bubbling laughter and shrieks of the girls behind her.
First, a song about cups and now this. I mean, really, unless they want to pillow-fight for the judges, they are most certainly wasting time.
She shifted uncomfortably at the hotel desk, damning the metal bars of the chair for digging into her. It may have been "metropolitan sleek," but it was really starting to make her ass hurt and the flurry of pillow down certainly wasn't helping her focus. Nor was the willowy blonde bouncing from bed to bed like a spider monkey. Rachel had never seen Quinn so joyful, certainly not recently, which was why she bit her tongue and let the girls have their fun. Rachel could hardly believe this was the same girl who, only minutes earlier, had bared her teeth at her. Quinn's ability to flip the switch that turned her from enraged to elated frightened Rachel, mostly because Rachel thought it must exhaust her.
She was still mulling over Quinn when the blonde raised a pillow high over Rachel's head and crashed it down on top of her, bounding away before the stunned girl could respond. What does she want with me? Rachel willed herself not to turn around as her cell phone buzzed, further pulling her out of her reverie. Finn.
"Meet me in Central Park. Bow Bridge. Dress up."
Rachel bit her lip, unsure of what to feel. At that moment, Quinn happened to spin around on the bed to find Rachel staring down at her open phone, clearly engrossed in thought. The troubled ambivalence on Rachel's beautiful face told Quinn all she needed to know. Finn. She clenched her fists around her pillow and sank onto the bed, with the girls and Kurt still whirring around her.
Aside from Quinn, Tina was the first of the group to notice Rachel collect her things, "Where are you going?"
"Out," Rachel rummaged in her suitcase for her blue formal dress before stealing a glance at a stricken Quinn, "Just…out."
OOOO
The walk from their hotel to Central Park wasn't particularly long, but Rachel felt as though she were walking the half mile inch-by-inch. Her feet felt heavy, weighted down with the thought of her…and him, of course. And them together. And us, whoever us was.
The sun's beams spilled hot across her face, making her brown eyes shimmer hazel in the light. There it is, she thought, Bow Bridge. And there he was, looking out at the water. And as she approached him she saw his face alight which made her smile and it made her nervous for reasons yet unknown. She had done this before with him, she thought. Been a partner in his push and pull far too many times for their meeting to jar her but whenever she was alone with Finn lately, Rachel felt guilt and, perhaps strangely still, she felt a sense of loss. Like something that was supposed to be there was missing. Over these past few weeks, maybe longer, she wasn't sure it had ever been there with Finn in the first place and perhaps now was the first time she'd allowed herself to realize that.
"Hi," Rachel ventured shyly. She didn't know why it was so hard for her to accept his adoring gaze, but the way he fawned over her left her unnerved.
"Hi," Finn took in her beauty all at once which overwhelmed him and he looked down nervously at his reflection in his shoes. He'd paid a man $10 to shine them outside of the hotel. This was important to him. She, he thought, was everything to him.
"What's so important?" Rachel's voice seemed clipped, but Finn was undeterred.
"Uh…th-these are for you." He thrust a bouquet of spring flowers into Rachel's arms: Daisies. Tulips. Hydrangea. As Rachel took them into her arms, she felt an added weight sink her into the ground. Finn was so kind—such a good man. But she felt the urge to drop the flowers and drift away from him. Something didn't feel right but if she'd said that aloud, especially to Finn, she knew everything would shatter. So she smiled tightly and waited for him to speak because she couldn't bear it.
"Plus, since we're both captains and all, we should write a duet for Nationals."
Rachel felt relief wash over her but still didn't trust Finn's intentions, "The tie? The flowers? Central Park?"
"It's a work date," he assured her and she nodded, "Totally professional." Finn felt triumphant that he would treat Rachel to a surprise tonight. This was his chance, after all. Sam was right. Paris is the "city of love," not New York. But Finn felt like New York was the city of taking chances and he'd heard it was also the city where dreams came true. The only person who had ever lived in his dreams for any meaningful time was Rachel and she would be his. She had to be. She'd wanted him forever. The way that Rachel looked at him when he and Quinn were together—that longing, that sadness. He could make that go away; he was certain of it.
He extended his arm for Rachel to hold as they walked the two blocks to Sardi's Restaurant. After his sit-down with the guys, he had made reservations there because Rachel wouldn't stop talking about it on the plane ride. Finn didn't mind doing what she liked, he thought, as long as this place had a decent quarter-pounder and served its veggies fried or not at all.
He held the door open to the little bistro and she curtseyed in thanks. That was something Finn loved about Rachel—she was just different than other girls. When he'd give her a flower, she'd wave them around like a wand. When he'd ask her to dinner, she wouldn't say "sure," she'd say she was "much obliged" to join him. Finn didn't always follow what she was talking about, but he loved to listen to her. Even in her speaking voice, there was music and in her movements, theater.
As the host seated them, Rachel's eyes scanned the walls of the restaurant picking out caricatures of her favorite Broadway stars and imagining who her picture would one day hang beside. She clasped her hands together and leaned across the table, "Oh my God, I can't believe we're at Sardi's—Sardi's! The birthplace of the Tony Award."
Finn's hopes for the menu were dashed as he scanned each page, "What's a 'salad in a cozy?'"
Rachel was too excited by her surroundings to even pretend to listen to Finn's concerns about the lackluster menu. She smiled brightly, declaring, "They're going to put a cartoon like this of me on these walls."
"I like the way you dream so big," Finn shrugged, suddenly self conscious, "I don't know how to do that."
Rachel's eyes fell to the tablecloth and she felt that haunting guilt again—like she was making implicit promises to Finn that she couldn't make good on.
Noticing her change in mood, Finn continued, "You look so pretty tonight."
This made Rachel smile, a tight-lipped smile. She hoped she didn't look disingenuous but she didn't know how else to react. She wasn't as good at this as she used to be and she didn't know why. Rachel hoped that after a few days of Finn fawning over her, she'd come to her senses.
"Rachel I have something to say to you—" Finn started but found himself cut off.
"Oh my God! It's Patti Lupone!" Rachel surprised herself with how well she kept her voice down. But she felt panicked at the notion that her idol was only feet away from her, "Oh no, I can't! I can't do this!"
Finn cocked his head and looked on dumbly at the woman walking away from their table. He'd certainly never seen her before.
"No. No, I have to. If not for me, then for Kurt. I mean, he'd kill me if I didn't." Rachel plucked up her formidable courage and slinked out of her seat to confront the Broadway legend.
"Miss Lupone? I have to say that you're my idol."
"Well, thank you, that's very sweet of you." The older woman smiled warmly at the young ingénue, "Are you an actress?"
Rachel answered without hesitation, "Yes, well, I-I'm in high school."
Finn, not nearly as starstruck, interjected, "We're in town for the national show choir championship."
Lupone smiled down at Finn who was still seated at the table, "I was in choir in high school. It was my favorite class," she shifted her attention back to Rachel, "What's your name?"
"Rachel Berry." She answered in a small voice.
She wistfully studied the girl's face for a moment, "Well, Rachel Berry, promise me one thing: You'll never give up."
Rachel was all too eager to assure her, "Yes, Ms. Lupone, I promise."
Patti Lupone shook both of the teenagers' hands and wished them well before resting her hand on Rachel's arm and whispering, "He's cute."
Rachel couldn't believe her luck as she sat, dumbstruck across from a beaming Finn. This night was going perfectly, he thought. And there was only one way to end it.
The pair exited the restaurant hours later. The cool night air was bracing, but not uncomfortably so and they took the leisurely route back to the hotel.
Unlike in Lima, Rachel couldn't see the stars above her, but the lights of the city were just as comforting because they felt, to her, just as sure and permanent. She basked in the afterglow of her surreal meeting with Lupone and looked to the sights and sounds around her for reassurance of her reality. She wanted to be told that, yes, that actually happened. Never give up, her idol had said. Rachel tried to shrug off the uneasiness she had felt all week and resolved herself to look only to the good things in her life—all that lay ahead.
She let Finn take her arm as they walked home, "Being in New York is like falling in love over and over again every minute." She looked up to see Finn's reassuring smile, "Tonight felt like one of those awesome nights you see in those amazing romantic comedies. All we need now is just a group of street singers to serenade us and it would be perfect."
The chill of the ocean air cause Rachel to step in closer to Finn and she slammed her eyes shut as she rested her head against his shoulder.
This should be perfect as it is. Everything is what I wanted. Well, at least it's what I wished for. I feel like I don't know what I want lately. Why do I feel like I belong anywhere but here—not New York—but right here. With him.
Rachel squeezed Finn's arm tighter to keep from drifting further away from him in her mind. Finn took this as a sign of affection, his heart swelling under the bella luna. Not nearly as bella as she, he thought.
"Wait," he turned to face her, "This is the moment in those romantic comedies where I kiss you." His smile was shy but earnest and he took her hands in his.
Rachel thought if she looked away, she could hide her trepidation, "I thought this was just a work date."
"Really?" Finn smirked sweetly as he held onto her hands tighter and studied her face.
Rachel was relieved that the worry on her face passed for surprise as she shook her head and mouthed, "No." The comforting light of the streetlamp above them turned into the 5000 watt glare of a spotlight and she felt her skin grow uncomfortably hot as she shifted her weight.
Finn beamed down at her; her nervousness only endeared her to him more. He slid his fingers under Rachel's chin, tilting her delicate face up towards him, and leaned down to kiss her. Just as their lips were about to meet, Rachel finally admitted aloud what she'd yet to even admit privately to herself.
"I can't."
Hurt and confusion clouded Finn's face, but he refused to give up, "Take a chance on me," he pleaded softly before leaning down again.
This time, Rachel looked startled as she pulled away from him, "I'm sorry, Finn. I can't."
Rachel's rejection sent Finn reeling backwards into a stunned haze of bewilderment while Rachel took the opportunity to scamper away into the darkness, more content to walk the last block alone than risk suffocating anymore in what she knew was a lie. As she strode towards the looming hotel, she begged her focus to rest on anything but Finn. She started to count the pavement slabs, being careful to step over the cracks, but as she did so, her attention fell on the sounds of her heels on the cement.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
Quinn. Rachel knew her own shoes made the familiar noise, but the sound still comforted her as she walked back in the cold. The coastal breeze had gone from bracing to blistering without a warm body to lean against, and she slid her hands up and down her bare arms. She wanted desperately to reach the hotel before Finn; she couldn't bear to see pain mar his good-natured features and know that she'd caused it.
Here it is. Finally. Rachel pushed open the towering glass doors of the hotel and took her steps in leaps to reach the upward bound elevator before it closed. She gasped to catch her breath as a curious businessman ruffled his Wall Street Journal and peered at the petite brunette beside him.
"You do know that the elevators come whenever you push the button, sweetie…? There's no 'last call.'" The portly suit chortled to himself as Rachel smiled politely, too sweet to know better.
"Twelfth floor, please."
He raised his eyebrow, but pushed the button for her and leaned back against the brass pole, refolding his newspaper. Rachel Berry had a way of getting people to do what she wanted. She was "larger than life is a small package," Finn had told her once. She turned to face the illuminated skyline of the city, staring through the glass wall of the elevator. Right as the elevator began to rise, she saw Finn approach the hotel doors below her. She watched him until his face was obscured by height and the night haze. Just then, the elevator stopped and the businessman turned to face Rachel.
"Isn't this you?" He grumbled.
"Yeah. Yeah, Thank you." Rachel turned and strode out of the elevator towards the girls' room.
She unlocked the door and was careful to open it with painstaking care as she knew everyone was already asleep. She slowly shut it behind her with a muffled thud and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Everything was shrouded in pitch black night except for a patch of moonlight spilling through a wide gap in the curtains. Rachel stepped tentatively towards the light and saw Quinn's radiant features illuminated in the moonlight as she dozed peacefully, curled up on an armchair. Recalling how that ethereal face contorted in rage earlier proved impossible for Rachel. She smiled softly down at the sleeping beauty who was clutching a near-stuffingless pillow to her chest. That can't be comfortable. Rachel looked to her left and saw that there was a folded blanket at the foot of Lauren's cot, so she picked it up and gently laid it over Quinn's bare legs. Quinn made a sleepy purring noise and nestled further into her pillow at the light touch of the blanket which made Rachel giggle until she realized who she was mooning over. In an instant, Rachel's expression changed and she turned around to find her suitcase. She rifled noiselessly through her things to fetch her pajamas and refused herself the comfort of thinking about how beautiful Quinn looked under the watch of the moon.
No doubt Rachel would have been further mortified by the situation had she known Quinn was awake the entire time she was in the room. Quinn had always been a light sleeper. The slightest noise could snap her from a deep sleep; it wasn't just habit, it was a survival mechanism she'd learned so many years ago. She could hear a plate shatter in the insulated basement as she lay in bed on the top floor of the manor. She could hear her mother's sobs muffled by pillows all the way down the hallway and through closed doors. Come to think of it, she had never been happy to be awakened by anything in her recent memory except for now. The instant the door clicked behind Rachel, Quinn could smell that familiar scent—coconut and a hint of honey. She hugged the threadbare pillow to her chest and nuzzled it, making sure to keep her movements slow and sleepy as she heard Rachel pad towards her. When she felt the warmth of a blanket draped across her legs, Quinn was so overwhelmed by her tenderness that she couldn't stop herself from cooing happily and hugging her pillow closer which she could hear made Rachel laugh. Soon enough, the scent drifted away and Quinn knew that Rachel had walked away from her. Quinn heard the bathroom faucet running on and off for a bit until she heard Rachel return to the bedroom.
After a few moments of denying herself, Quinn finally let one of her eyes flutter open. She stifled a gasp as she did so. Rachel was facing away from her with only her pajama bottoms on, and was pulling her flannel button-down top up her back and onto her shoulders. Quinn allowed her eyes to rake briefly over the angular muscles of Rachel's bare back. It was browned and defined and her shoulder blades looked like angel wings as she shrugged the sleep shirt on. Quinn wondered briefly if her fingers would fit into the grooves of Rachel's back and how soft Rachel's skin would feel if she tried. As she buttoned her shirt, Rachel turned around to face the bed and Quinn slammed her eyes shut again, trying to steady her rapid breath and still her pounding heart. Coconut and honey. She smells like iced tea on the beach and she's walking towards me again. Rachel stopped just short of Quinn's chair and flopped onto the empty bed beside it. The brunette rested her head in her hands as she laid on her stomach and the fine hairs on the back of Quinn's neck stood up as she felt she was being watched.
She heard Rachel shift her weight on the bed and then lightly, ever so lightly, Quinn could feel the pads of Rachel's fingertips hover over her hair. Quinn begged her body to cooperate and remain still as Rachel gently pressed down her fingers into her tousled blonde mane. She was certain she'd forgotten how to breathe once she felt Rachel's thumb caress the ghost of her bruise under her eye with such gentleness. Quinn was too exhausted to process who exactly was making her feel like this and she was too electrified by Rachel's touch to dare push her away. No one in her life had ever touched her like this before.
As Rachel lay on the bed, marveling at the gentile beauty beneath her fingertips, she, too, refused to admit to the gravity of what she was feeling and what she was doing. She watched as her fingers wandered through Quinn's silky hair and came to rest under her eye. Rachel's lips quirked up into a smile as she slid her palm down to cup Quinn's cheek and felt the girl lean gently into her touch. Quinn must be a heavy sleeper. Just then, Rachel noticed the blanket slipping off the blonde's long legs. Rachel's next action was deliberate, but if asked, she'd swear something impalpable pushed her to do it. As she saw the blanket fall, Rachel leaned over Quinn's body and laid it out across her evenly. Every one of Quinn's nerve-endings were aflame, but she remained perfectly still, not even breathing as Rachel hovered over her, fixing the fallen blanket. Rachel gripped the arm of Quinn's chair and started to tuck the blanket in around her. She slid her hand over the blanket and then tucked it behind Quinn's back and around her legs. Even through the blanket, Rachel's touch was more than Quinn could bear and she shivered slightly under the tiny brunette. Rachel quirked her eyebrow and looked down at the sleeping figure beneath her. Only then did she see the tightness in Quinn's jaw, the rigidity of her back, and the way her fists were balled into the pillow. My God. She's awake.
Rachel instantly retreated from Quinn's chair and curled up into a ball on the bed, praying she was wrong and begging for sleep to come take her away.
OOOO
The next morning, Kurt bounded into the girls room, almost toppling over the small cot that Santana and Brittany shared. He smirked back at the dozing couple and navigated Rachel's bed, climbing up behind her.
"Rachel, wake up! Wake up!" He whispered into her ear, tapping her on the shoulder. Rachel's head shot up and she swiped a little drool from her chin, much to her embarrassment. At least it's only Kurt. Quinn, of course, was awake from the moment she heard the door click behind her, and listened quietly to their exchange.
Swiping at her slightly drooling, parted lips she mumbled, "Why?"
"We're going to breakfast at Tiffany's." Kurt cocked his eyebrow and swung his legs back and forth like a little kid.
Only feet away, Quinn twisted her hands deeper in the pillow case and stifled a sigh. It wasn't easy to watch her like this. To watch Rachel living her dreams in the Big Apple with the man who loved her and friends who adored her when Quinn felt so disconnected from it all. Quinn clutched the memory of last night to her chest so hard, that it threatened to shatter with the slightest movement. She waited patiently for the two to collect their things and greet the New York Morning without her.
As she heard the door click softly behind the pair, Quinn stretched out her long legs and cracked the kink in her back as she rose from the chair. It seemed to be just her luck that the other girls started to stir in their blankets and open their eyes at the very moment she wished for solitude. Quinn sunk back down into her chair, curling her legs underneath her.
Santana detangled herself from Brittany's grasp to sit up on the edge of their cot before catching Quinn's stony gaze. The girls locked eyes until the corner of Santana's lips quirked upward.
"Nice hair, Q."
Quinn's hand immediately shot to her unruly mane, and she ran her fingers back through it to try and flatten it as much as possible. A trace of a smile played across Quinn's lips and she nodded her head slightly in thanks for Santana's tip. That's just how it was between the two friends. No apologies. No explanations. Just quiet understanding and a clean slate for a new day.
Santana turned back around to nuzzle Brittany's shoulder and whispered softly, "Wake up, Britty Bear…"
Mercedes couldn't resist, "'Britty Bear?' Tell me ya'll aren't serious with that." The girl covered her face with her pillow and rolled over as Tina and Lauren giggled. Santana grew red in the face at the knowledge the other girls overheard her.
"Hey Santana," Tina ventured, her voice sounded grave before devolving into giggles, "Can I call you Lubby Dubby Lopez?"
Santana crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes menacingly, "Not if you don't want me to knock you out so hard your stutter comes back."
The girls whooped and chuckled at Santana's threat which became much less threatening once Brittany sat up on their cot and circled her arms around Santana's waist making the fiery girl's temper subside.
The girls started getting ready for the day, laughing and talking excitedly about the competition, until Santana noticed something very loud was missing, "Hey, where's Berry?"
Mercedes furrowed her eyebrows, "I don't know…Did she even come home last night?"
Santana looked incredulous, "Oh, please God. If Rachel Berry stayed out all night in New York City while I wasted away in some hotel room by 10 o'clock I'm gonna hurl myself down the elevator shaft."
"Don't be so dramatic," Quinn chided coolly, "Rachel came home last night. She just left to go somewhere with Kurt this morning." At that, Quinn pushed by the other girls towards the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. She heard Mercedes, Lauren, and Tina all head down the hallway to the boys' room and she prayed Santana and Brittany would follow suit. Much to her chagrin, however, she could hear muffled giggles and kissing sounds from outside the door. Really, guys?
Quinn perched on the edge of the giant marble tub and stared dumbly down at the pristine white tiles. It sounded insane, but she felt like if she thought about what had happened between her and Rachel last night in front of the others, they would somehow be able to read her face and just know. Irrational, she knew, but then again, so was this whole situation. Quinn's mind drifted back to the events of last night. Although her visual memory was limited since she'd spent so much of her time with her eyes slammed shut, she remembered every caress of Rachel's small hands.
How did she have that kind of power over me? My body was like a well worn map and hers were the fingers that traced its roads and valleys so well, like she'd plotted them over and over in her mind.
Quinn wondered idly whether Rachel ever thought of touching her the way Quinn had thought of touching Rachel last night when she saw the nakedness of her back. Her eyes fluttered shut and she scraped her fingernails down her forearm as she let the ghost of Rachel's perfume overtake her senses.
No. Stupid. She had worn that perfume for Finn. She had covered me with that blanket in friendship and then left with Kurt this morning before I even woke up because she had better things to do than talk with me about what happened last night. Because nothing happened last night.
Tears welled up in her eyes, making them a murky green.
I'm delusional.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Quinn jumped, startled at the steady rapping at the bathroom door.
"Quinn!" Santana fumed impatiently, "Quit hogging the bathroom. I needs to re-pencil my eyebrows on!"
Quinn pushed the door open, tilting her head down to hide her tears, "It's all yours."
"Everybody's already in the other room working."
"Oh, yeah? Is Mr. Schue in there?" Quinn's voice wavered and she clenched her fists, leaving the girls to exchange worried glances, "Because I think I'm going to tell him that Rachel and Kurt keep sneaking off."
Santana could tell by the edge in Quinn's voice that she wasn't bluffing. Brittany piped up, "You can't do that; he'll have to suspend them."
"And then there goes our chances at Nationals, darn!" Quinn spat.
Santana sized Quinn up, "You know what? We get it. You're pissed about Finn dumping your sweet ass. Get over it."
"I don't want to get over it, okay?" Quinn shook, almost manic in her distress.
"The only person that you're sabotaging here is yourself."
"I don't care about some stupid show choir competition!" The force of Quinn's words knocked Brittany backwards, but Santana was unmoved.
"Well you should! Because this is the one chance that we have to actually feel good about ourselves."
Quinn felt hot tears burn down her cheeks, "Aren't we supposed to be the popular girls?"
Santana was taken aback by Quinn's emotion and scoffed nervously.
Quinn shook her head, "So why can't we have our dreams come true?" In that moment, Quinn could only think of Rachel, "She has love, Tina has it, even Zises hooks up."
Brittany and Santana watched their friend and former leader sink down onto the bed with tears rolling freely down her cheeks. They slowly approached her and sidled up beside her, letting her cry in peace. The girls knew how hard this was for Quinn and they'd certainly never seen her like this before. It shook them and left them scrambling for what to do.
"I just want somebody to love me." Quinn couldn't hold back the words that escaped her lips as she sat between her friends, pining for a love that wasn't hers and, she thought, never would be. She could still feel the warm imprints of a petite hand sliding up her back when she was snapped from her reverie by Brittany's comforting touch brushing her hair from her darkened eyes.
"I think I know how to make you feel better." Santana nodded resolutely.
Quinn froze instinctively and stuttered her reply, "I'm flattered Santana, but I'm really not that into that."
Santana's eyes widened in discomfort and she assured her friend, "No. No, I'm not talking about that." Quinn sniffled and cocked her head.
"I'm talking about a haircut."
Brittany's eyes lit up, "Yes! Totally."
Santana waited for Quinn's grateful smirk and rested her head against the blonde's shoulder. She may not have been very good at these kind of things, but in the end, she knew she could always find a way to be there for a friend. Quinn was just so difficult to read, Santana never knew if she was helping or hurting. She shared a furtive look of concern with her girlfriend over Quinn's shoulder. Sweet Jesus… Finn had really broken Quinn's heart.