Satie - Gymnopedie #1 : /watch?v=q7DBoiyBoJ8 (until 3:30)

Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata : /watch?v=5-MT5zeY6CU

Debussy - Clair de Lune : /watch?v=3TpPjMjrjK8

Andrew Belle - All Those Pretty Lights : /watch?v=_GXOdpd8q7E (yes, it's an alternative version, but it's better so let me love it!)

Passion Pit - Sleepyhead : /watch?v=na1OdO30Yp8

Once the snacks run out Santana decides that this study session is over. When you raise your eyebrows at her in a true Fabray fashion (Quinn would have been proud, had she seen it) Brittany whispers in your ear that Santana's mostly here for the food and the fun, though she tries to convince everyone otherwise. It sounds fairly logical now you think about it, and Brittany shoots you a wink before Santana practically summons her and she skips her way over to the girl.

Santana is already in her coat by the door, holding out Brittany's. Quinn is standing next to her, an with small smile she regards the scene. Her eyes find yours and you share a subtle smile and she rolls her eyes. You shrug in response.

"Well, bitches, we'd better be going," Santana belts out, completely unnecessary.

Brittany, who has in the meantime put on her coat, hugs Quinn tightly and whispers something in her ear that makes her frown confusedly, while the smile on her lips remains. Brittany winks at her as well before turning on her heel and stepping out of the door.

Santana remains standing in the door opening. She nods to Quinn and then looks to you.

"Bitch. Berry."

Her gaze is intense and you feel the urge to fidget. You can't help but look away from her and as you do so, you feel her gaze leave you.

When you dare to look up again she is no longer standing in the hallway.

Quinn is still there, standing in the door opening, watching the other two walk down the path, and you move to stand next to her. The two of you watch them go. Brittany runs back to walk next to Santana and when she reaches her she takes her hand. Santana doesn't pull away.

"It's sad, what the prejudice at school does to them, don't you think?" you ask quietly.

She hums and a moment of silence passes between you.

"I trust you," you hear her say next to you. You turn to look at her. She keeps her gaze fixed on her team mates.

"What-"

"Today, just after Santana and Brittany arrived, you said I didn't trust you," her eyes lock on yours. "I do. I trust you."

Her eyes stay connected to yours for a moment before she looks down the path again. The other girls have already passed through the gate and are no longer in sight. Quinn turns back and passes by you back into the house. You quietly follow.

Once you're standing in the middle of the living room she abruptly turns around and eyes you.

"Wait here, I'll be right back." She moves up the stairs and you take the opportunity to sit down in front of the grand piano. You let your fingertips ghost over the keys and softly press down the major e. The soft sound fills the room and you shiver a little.

Slowly, gently, you bring both hands to the ivory and begin to play. You start off softly, like a whisper, but once the melody melds into a higher octave you gradually increase the volume, until Ludo's Fly is resonating through the entire house. Without you noticing, Quinn has come downstairs again, an old Canon AE-1 in hand.

Soundlessly she slides over the wooden floor until she finds the angle she's searching for. She lifts the camera to her eye, squeezes one eye shut, gets a clear image and takes the picture.

You're sitting straight up, your shoulders relaxed and your fingers subtly pressing down on the keys. You've dropped your head a little so that it's now almost resting on your own collarbone and closed your eyes, a concentrated but peaceful look on your face. The light coming from the window behind you creates something like a halo around you.

As Quinn lowers the camera again the keeps her eyes trained on you. Why she's never before taken photographs of the girl in front of her is a mystery to her. The camera is absolutely in love with her.

She tries and moves a bit closer to you, trying to get a close-up of your face, when the song comes to an end. As the final note lingers in the air your eyes open again. That's when you hear a click coming from your left.

You find Quinn crouched down, resting on one knee, maybe five foot away from you lowering a camera. Her eyes shine with joy and mischief.

"Did you just -" you begin, but you needn't even ask.

"Quinn! That was uncalled for! You can't just take pictures of people without their knowing, it's an invasion of privacy!" You jump off the bench and reach for the camera, but Quinn's stood up again and the camera is far out of your reach by the time you reach her. So instead you place your hands on your hips and stare her down angrily.

She just smiles at you.

"But, Rachel, aren't you happy? You just made the wall."

It takes you a few seconds to realize what she's talking about, but once you do, You can't really stay mad at her. You can't give her this for nothing though.

"Then I want one of yours from the wall," you tell her. She briefly frowns at this.

"No." she says, finality in her voice. "I can't give you one of those." You're confused now, but you feel like you've crossed a line of some sorts judging by her reaction, so you don't pry as hard as you usually would have done.

"Why not?" you ask.

She opens her mouth a few times to say something, but nothing really comes out. Her eyes search for something to hold onto and they find the piano. She inhales a shaky breath before looking at you again.

"Because they're me," she breathes. "I can't just give away a part of me."

At her explanation you smile.

You gently place your hand on her arm that's still holding up the camera. Slowly you pull it down and take the camera from her. Grinning at her you take off, out of the front door.

"Wh- Rachel!" Quinn calls behind you before she starts the chase.

You run off the path into the garden. Behind you, Quinn keeps calling your name and for you to stop, but you ignore her. You manage to round the house before the catches up with you. Before you can see her you can hear her, the thumping of her feet on the grass. Then a hand appears and wraps itself around the hand holding the camera.

You can feel her arm encircle your waist and before you can do anything to stop it you're both tumbling to the ground. Quinn keeps the camera off the ground to protect it from harm and when she's sure it's safe she lets it plop down in the grass.

Her arm is still around your waist as you both lie on the ground breathing hard from your little sprint. Then you can feel her body start to shake with laughter. She rolls off you and only then begins to laugh out loud.

"You're insane, you know that?" she manages to get out. She lets go of the the camera and places her wrist over her eyes. You see your chance and sit up to lift the camera.

"Quinn, look at me," you whisper, asking for her attention. She opens her eyes to look at you and you quickly press the shutter.

The fresh green grass is tickling her face and her hair is spread out over it in a perfect imperfect mess. One eye is in the shadow of her wrist while the other shines in the sunlight. The grass accentuates her eyes and her face is still lit up from laughing. Her other hand lays on her stomach.

As you lower the camera she keeps her eyes trained on you, still smiling lightly. You return her smile and place the camera on her stomach.

"Then I want that one," you tell her as you lay back down next to her, your shoulders touching.

She hums.

"Okay."

A silence follows and you both lay content in the grass, looking up at the passing clouds.

"That song you were playing just now on the piano," she breaks the silence.

"Yeah."

"I know it. I watched a film once where Ludo composed the music."

"He's a good composer."

"I know, I've played some pieces of his."

You turn yore head to look at her. "You play?" you ask her, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugs. "It's not really something important."

You huff and prop yourself up on your elbows.

"Not important? Quinn, it's something that defines you, it's part of who you are." For a reason you can't explain you feel that it's something essential to Quinn, or essential for you to know about her. Somehow, you feel connected to her now, as fellow musicians.

She catches your eye and looks at you amusedly for a moment, quirked eyebrow and all. Then her eyes soften and she says: "Maybe it was, but not any more."

She moves to get up.

"Will you play something for me?" you ask, and she freezes mid-motion.

"Why?" she asks you, sounding genuinely confused and interested, "I'm not sure I even remember how."

You stand up and turn to look at her. "It's not something you forget."

She smiles bashfully at that and shakes her head. "All right, one song," she says as the walks away from you toward the house. You smile to yourself and move to follow her.

The song she plays is one Ludovico Einaudi composed as well. "It's called L'origine Nacosta," she tells you, "It's from that film I told you about."

It's beautiful sad music and you sit next to her on the bench completely motionless until she finishes.

You can feel her upper arm work as it sends her fingers flying over the keys.

Sometimes she brushes past you like a stranger on a crowded street, not even noticing you.

Sometimes she touches you like a parent gently encouraging a child to do something it's unsure of.

Sometimes she hovers, hesitantly, like holding a butterfly in the palm of your hand, afraid to break its wings if you touch it, but wanting to make a connection with the beautiful fragile creature voluntarily putting itself in such a vulnerable position.

When she finishes her hands linger on the ivory, pressing down even though the sound has long faded. Carefully, as if it's something sacred, she lets the keys come back up and folds her hands in her lap.

You can feel her chest expand as she takes in a shuddering breath. "I haven't played that in forever," she all but whispers.

"It was beautiful," you tell her honestly, "You should lend me the film sometime"

"Oh, we don't have it," she says, "I think I went to the theatre four times to see it." She lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head to herself.

Then she turns to look at you.

"We should watch it sometime."

Who are you to refuse?

Dinner that evening is energetic, you're still on some kind of high from having spent the entire day with Quinn and actually got along with her, so there's very little that could possibly dampen your mood right now. Your papa asks you about your day and gush.

You tell them about the brownies and Santana and all the help you got with your history and they listen with rapt attention.

At some point Hiram asks "Quinn, you mean Quinn Fabray?"

"Yes, papa, I mean Quinn Fabray."

"You mean that girl that used to torture you?"

"Well, I'd hardy call it torture, that would have required something like questioning and extended periods of conf-"

"That Quinn Fabray?"

"God, Hiram, just tell the poor girl whatever is on your mind. Look at her, she's all upset about your intense and judegmental questioning!" It's true. You've hunched over a bit and you look even smaller that usual. Hiram sighs.

"Baby girl, you know I didn't mean it like that. I just want what's best for you, and I don't know if Quinn is… good for you…"

"Papa, if you're worried about Quinn's upbringing I can guarantee you that she's nothing like her father. Her best friends are in a relationship for goodness' sake."

"Her best friends?" Leroy looks at you confused.

"Santana and Brittany, dad. The two cheerios? The ones with the cheating method that I busted?" You see their eyes lighten in recognition. "Yeah them, they're together. Well, not officially, but you can see it from a mile away. It's pretty obvious."

"But what about the way she's tortured you, sweet pea?" Hiram asks.

"Papa, really, I am prepared to swear on Barbra that she's changed. She's no longer that person. She apologized to me profusely and is actually scaring away the jocks with the slushies. She's the one that helped me with history and I'm slowly getting to know the girl behind the mask. She's a good person, papa."

Hiram doesn't really sigh, but does take a rather big breath, shoots Leroy a glance and reaches over the table to take hold of your hand. He lowers his head and looks at you pleadingly.

"Just be careful, darling. We'd hate to see you heartbroken again." You can't help but frown at this.

"Pa, really, as nice as the girl is, I hardly think she'll be able to break my heart."

Lies.

Hiram shoots you pointed look. "You know what I mean, honey."

"Speaking of heartbreak," Leroy decides to change the subject, "How is Fred doing? I haven't seen him for a while."

"It's Finn, dad, and he's doing fine. We're doing fine. He took me to dinner and the movies a couple of weeks ago, remember? And he told me he's planning on taking me out again someday soon."

Tuesday he'd showed up at your locker and said that he thought he hadn't been seeing you enough.

"I miss you," he'd said, "I care about you and I want to spend time with you." You'd told him that you'd love to and that you were sorry, because all the tests you'd been having lately had kept you from being with him.

"Great!" he'd said, "Then make sure you're free next Friday, okay? I've got a really good idea." When you asked him what it was, he'd told you it was a surprise.

"Sounds pretty exciting," Hiram nods appreciatively, "Have you figured out what it is already?"

"No," you pout, "He hasn't spoken to anyone about it yet, so there are no leads to go on yet." You've never been good with surprises. You can't stand not knowing. Even when you were little you always tried to figure out what you'd get for your birthday or from Santa.

You're pretty sure that the way you found out Santa doesn't exist is far from what your fathers had had in mind for you. There was no way you'd blame them though, you just happen to have your own sneaky ways when it comes to surprises.

Handling presents is something you've learned to control over the years, though you still have a tendency to force their buyer's hand by either making a list or simply not-so-subtly dropping hints whenever you get the chance. That way, chances of receiving a gift that is not to your liking are minimal. It can only help, you figure.

"No offence though," Hiram says softly, conspiratorially, "But Flynn -" "Finn." "- Finn isn't the brightest guy, he's bound to leave clues eventually darling. It's just a matter of time."

You nod. He's never been able to surprise you before. Well, except for that star he'd named after himself and given to you. You really hadn't expected 'd thought is was sweet, though a little unnerving somehow. For some reason you'd felt the gesture wasn't as sweet , poetic and romantic as Finn had thought it to be.

You still think that, though now, it's for completely different reasons.

That Tuesday, after an exceptionally boring English class, in which Mrs Holmes spent the entire hour she had talking about the magnificence of Shakespeare's writing in Hamlet and his superb playwriting, Kurt walks up to you when you're switching your books. He leans on the locker next to yours, folds his arms across his chest and stares at you with a raised eyebrow until you acknowledge his presence.

"So I hear you've been getting rather friendly with the Ice Queen?"

Oh, god no.

"What do you mean?" Ah, well, at least your voice is steady. Can't say the same of the rest of you.

"Oh, you know," Kurt muses, shrugging one shoulder and looking up at the ceiling in faux cluelessness. "There have been no slushie-assaults since Quinn rescued you that particular nasty time. You're seen smiling at each other, that kind of stuff."

You press your books to your chest and take a deep breath, raising your chin in the air.

"Well, yes, Quinn and I have agreed to a cease-fire a couple of weeks ago, so there hardly is a reason for me to treat her any differently from how I have been doing."

Kurt's smirk grows a bit and he leans toward you. "Rumour has it," he stage whispers, "That you went to the Fabrays this weekend."

Your head snaps to him, your eyes wide.

"Ah, well, I suppose that rumour is true then," he chimes happily.

"She's just helping me with studying for history," you immediately defend yourself, "It's not a big deal!"

"Not a big de- Rachel, in what universe is visiting Quinn Fabray 'not a big deal'? The woman is impenetrable! I've spent months doubting whether she even had a heart! Whether she was even human!" You can't help but frown at this.

"She's not that bad. She's even kind of nice."

Kurt throws his hands up in the air.

"That's it! I'm done. Somebody give the Lord Almighty a call because the Ice Queen is kind of nice!"

You hastily grab his arms and pull them down again.

"Come on, Kurt, don't make a scene! I don't think I could use that right now?"

"How so? Apparently you're under the protection of Quinn Fabray. No-one can touch you!" You shoot him a glare of such intensity that you wouldn't have been surprised if he'd died on the spot. But Kurt just smirks at you mischievously. He's had his fun though, because he's not struggling against your grip.

"Girl," he says, "You simply must tell me everything."

You let go of him and sigh, whereas he poses himself against the locker again, smirk still intact.

"Really, nothing happened, Kurt. We sat around a table, ate some cupcakes and brownies and did some history. It's really not that big of a deal."

"Wait, she got you to eat non-vegan cupcakes and brownies?" Really? That's what he's choosing to focus on?

"No, of course not!"

"Did you get her to eat vegan cupcakes and brownies?" Wow, he looks even more impressed now.

"No, -"

Kurt gasps. You stare.

"Did she make you vegan cupcakes and brownies..?"

"Well, I baked the brownies, so -" You're interrupted by Kurt's muffled squeal of delight.

"Kurt, seriously. What is the big deal here? So she made me vegan cupcakes. I made her a share of non-vegan brownies, it's not something special. It's just what people do. It only proves that she remembered."

Kurt's smile grows impossibly wider and he waves his finger in front of you a couple of times before stabbing you in the chest with it.

"You see," he says, "That's where you're wrong. It doesn't only prove she remembered, it means that she cares enough to actually bake them."

Well, shit. And here you were, thinking she couldn't possibly get any more perfect.

As if it were staged you catch sight of a flutter of gold and your eyes instantly connect with hazel. She's standing at a corner, about ten meters away, Brittany or Santana nowhere in sight, and she smiles at you.

You don't know why, but your insides burn up and you feel a blush creeping up your neck as you smile back bashfully. Nothing seems to move for a couple of seconds while your heart transforms into a beast and is yanking and gnawing at its chains and your innards implode as you look at her with new knowledge because she cares. Then her lips quirk and everything comes back to like again.

She turns and disappears into another hallway. You don't notice Kurt looking between you and the corned Quinn just disappeared behind like he's watching an Olympic tennis match. His gaze comes to a rest on you and he narrows his eyes, suspicious of something he can't quite put his finger on yet. But he feels there is more to this nevertheless. You only remember he's there when he clears his throat and says "Well, that's something you don't see every day."

You fidget a little and quickly turn to your locker again, fruitlessly trying to hide your face from him. It's bright red, you're sure, and you're biting your bottom lip in an effort to stop a foolish grin from spreading all over your face. The monster in your chest is no longer trying to break loose, and it's now fervently pawing at its surroundings to find a soft spot before turning several times as he prepares to get comfortable again. It's a fuzzy, rather restless feeling, but not unpleasant.

Meanwhile, Kurt is still trying to get your attention to let you know he's still waiting for a response. So you shrug and tell him it's nothing special. He raises his eyebrows at that.

"If you say so…"

At that moment the bell rings and you all the students that were just idly standing by their lockers begin to move. It's not long before the halls are being drowned in chaos. You see an opening and tell Kurt your goodbyes before disappearing into the ocean of students.

Really, you should be a spy or something, no-one notices you like this. You make it to your biology class unharmed.

During lunch your eyes seem to find Quinn on their own accord. She's just sitting at her usual table, talking with Santana and Brittany, but there's something about her that unsettles you.

She seems to notice that she's being looked at and she lifts her gaze to meet yours. From across the cafeteria you notice that her smile is not just friendly, it's also half of a grin and you don't trust it. It's like she knows a secret.

As soon as the thought enters your mind, realization hits you. You shoot back around and focus on your tray because you need something to focus on.

"Are you okay?" Finn asks tentatively after he's gotten over the initial shock. He'd been talking to Puck and Sam before he'd gotten whip-lashed by your hair as you abruptly turned back around. Puck and Sam are casually continuing their discussion about whether Battlefield or Call of Duty is better.

"Yeah," you tell him, because you seem to lack vocabulary at the moment, "Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry." Ah, it's slowly returning to you.

He nods before turning back and telling Sam that the CoD graphics are infinitely better than the Battlefield ones, to which Sam replies that the mouth synchronization in CoD simply sucks, and that Battlefield's is superior. None of you notice Santana looking at your back intensely or Kurt blankly staring at you as if he's lost in thought.

God, you don't notice anything. All you can think is What if she knows? Because that right there? That'd be a problem.

When the bell announces the end of lunch break you still haven't touched your food. Finn looks at it, then to you, then back to the food again before quietly asking whether you're gonna eat that? When you shake your head no, he smiles and quickly eats everything before putting the tray away and taking your hand as you leave the cafeteria. You've got a free period now, and he doesn't so he bends down and kisses you sweetly before running off to make it to his class in time.

You leisurely walk over to your locker and take a lunch box from it before making your way to the auditorium. The lunch box is a habit you took on when things were still very bad. Jocks used to steal your wallet, so that you couldn't buy lunch any more, so you started secretly bringing your own lunch, while everyone believed that you still bought it at the cafeteria.

They don't steal your wallet any more, but you still bring your own lunched from time to time, even if it's just for a healthy snack in between classes. Today, it's filled with small carrots, a potato salad and a piece of bread. You feel like a rabbit a little, nibbling on the carrots, but you don't really care. You like carrots better raw than cooked.

You sit down in front of the piano and put the box next to you on the bench. For a minute you sit in silence, not knowing what to play. Then you pick up another carrot, bite down on it and move your hands to the piano. While nibbling on the carrot you start playing random chords. This continues for a minute or two until your fingers find the opening chord of Satie's Gymnopedie #1, so you continue playing it. Halfway through you leap off and transform it to Fly, which you finish entirely, letting the final notes linger until they've faded out and only then lifting your hands.

A feeling of melancholy washes over you and seeps out of your fingers as they lay on the ivory. Satie never fails to accomplish that. You continue with Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Not really one of your favourites, but it has its moments. This is one of them.

Your fathers practically begged you to learn it, and so you did. Personally, you find Debussy's Clair de Lune infinitely better. Much more challenging as well, and you couldn't help yourself as you bought the sheet music and took it to your teacher. He told you that it was difficult, and that it would take time, but you were willing to invest time in something you wanted.

Now, you know it had been the right decision, as you once again transform the song you're playing and let Debussy take it over.

All the while playing your mind wanders back to the cafeteria and what could happen if she knew. Whether she would be disgusted, afraid, awkward or supportive.

You don't know which one would be worse.

Supportive seems like the obvious choice between the rest of them, but when you remember that you would be left with your feelings while she stays friendly and supportive, you don't know if you'd manage. Maybe you'd even rather she just shoved you away, because then you'd know for sure that it was hopeless and have a reason to stop liking her. After all, it's easier to get over someone who is horrible to you, isn't it?

Debussy comes to an end and sigh escapes you. Well this made you feel better.

Sarcasm.

You grab another carrot and walk off the stage. You'd better read.

Finn doesn't show up between classes, so you arrive early at your algebra class. Jacob is already sitting there and he starts grinning as soon as you step into the room. He straightens his posture and beckons you to come sit next to him, but repulse makes your skin crawl and you sit in the back, as far away from him as possible. He turns around in his chair but thankfully remains seated.

"I have sources confirming that you're building a friendship with Quinn Fabray," he says, quivering with excitement. "What do you have to say about those rumours, Rachel?" The way he says your name makes you want to run out of the room. Instead you shiver and scowl at him.

"I will neither confirm nor deny that Quinn and I are establishing a friendship. However, it is true that she stopped harassing me," you tell him, your face stoic, "Whatever conclusion you make from that is your own doing." Apparently that is enough for him, because his grin widens and he opens his mouth to say something. But before he has the chance, other people start filling the room, so he settles for staring at you.

You just try your best not to kill him.

Seats are being taken everywhere around you, and you receive some glares from the people who usually sit where you are. You don't care, you've had worse.

Then you hear a chair scraping very close to you and your eyebrows go pay a visit to the moon when Quinn plops down in the seat next to you. From your peripheral vision you can see Jacob nearly faint.

You're still staring at her when she starts casually unpacking like this is completely normal. She gets out her books, her notes and calculator and neatly places them on her desk before turning to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

You snap out of it instantly.

"Wha- nothing, nothing. It's just that… well… I'm a bit surprised." She smiles at you.

"Well, you'd better get used to it then, cause I'm not going to spend every first five minutes of my classes explaining myself to you."

Oh, wait, what? So this is not a one-time-thing?

Oh.

Okay. You can live with that.

The both of you smile at each other in agreement for a second, until the teacher walks in and encourages everyone to listen to him for a moment, because you'll be starting logarithms today.

Groans fill the room, but Quinn leans over and whispers "No worries, Santana can already dream that stuff, and from what I gather, I think we'll manage."

You look at her and she smiles and holds up an earbud.

"Listen with me?" You take it from her and she unlocks her iPod. She scrolls through the songs for a minute before shrugging and picking one. A soft guitar seeps through the bud and you find yourself bobbing along slightly. A keyboard joins in and they repeat the melody one more time before the voice of a man filters through. His voice is calm and a little hoarse, but you can hear it's a natural hoarseness, and you reckon it fits him.

You reach for the iPod. All Those Pretty Lights by Andrew Belle. Quinn is looking at you questioningly from your peripheral vision and you nod your approval. She smiles and turns her attention back to the book in front of her. You both sit in silence for a while as you work on the logarithms. Then the iPod seems to high-pitch voices and get stuck on one of the songs and you pull out the bud and take the iPod again. The numbers on the screen are ticking away as usual and Quinn looks at you confused.

"I think your iPod is broken," you tell her. At this she stares at you for a while before she starts laughing, her hand shooting up to her mouth to muffle any sound she might make. Her eyes shine with amusement above it. Now it's your turn to be confused.

"It's not broken, Rachel. It's part of the song." Your eyes bulge, she just hands you back the bud and starts the song over again. Halfway through it, you've found the rhythm and somewhat figured out how this number is put together. When it ends you play it again, earning a raised brow from Quinn.

"What? I just want to understand it." She nods and lets you do as you please. After having heard it three times, Sleepyhead is one of your favourite songs. You are having serious trouble with containing your happy dance at the instrumental part after the chorus, so you settle for an odd wiggle in your chair every time it comes around.

When the bell rings and you close your books you don't notice Quinn slipping something between your notes. You walk out together and she turns to you once you're in the hallways again.

"Hey, I noticed you spend your free period on Thursday in the auditorium. Is it okay if I come join you there?" You look at her surprised.

"I didn't know you had a free period," you tell her.

She shrugs. "Yeah, well, now you do."

"How did you even know I spend them in the auditorium?" She smiles guiltily.

"It's kind of hard not to notice the music coming from there. I've been gate crashing for weeks." You figure that this feeling is what people call slack-jawed. But instead of really letting it actually happen, you raise your eyebrows and laugh at her. She blushes and smacks your arm.

"What? How should I have known about your inner stalker?" When she still doesn't crack a smile and huffs, her face a bright pink, you control yourself a little.

"Ahw, come on," you encourage her, "It's a little funny."

She shoots you a pointed look.

"Give me your books."

"I'm sorry, what? No, why would I give you my books?"

"Because. Just give them to me."

Hesitantly you hand them over. She flips through them until she finds your notebook, opens it and starts browsing through until she finds what she's looking for and you see her take something from between the pages. Something you're certain you didn't put there.

"What is that?" you ask.

"What? Nothing. At least nothing that concerns you," she says, but it's blatantly obvious that she's lying.

"Yes it is," you say, "What is it? Give it to me."

"No," she tells you, a teasing smile on her lips as she shoves your books back into your arms. You catch a glimpse of grass and hazel as she does so.

You gasp.

"No," you say with new conviction, your heart rampaging again. "Give it to me."

You practically demand it.

For some reason you've started breathing heavily, your eyes still trained on the piece of paper in her hand. Quinn inclines her head defyingly and leans toward you a little. Your eyes shift from the item in her hand to her eyes and a thick tension engulfs you. It presses on you from the outside, bus as you inhale it, you can feel your blood rising through your veins and your heart hammer hard, pulsating your entire body in its steady rhythm. It's not faster, just so much more intense. Your hands are twitching, aching to touch her, to feel her. Shivers run down your spine in steady, thrilling waves. She looks at you playfully, challenging, while she looks back straight into chocolate.

"Earn it," she says lowly, and God, you're this close to kissing her. It's like you need it.

But she turns around and walks away from you.

"Okay, okay, you can come on Thursday!" you yell after her, cringing inwardly at the unintentional innuendo, but she doesn't even falter. You can practically see her smirk, as her entire posture emits smugness in waves as she tilts her head backwards a little.

"You'll have to do better than that, Berry!" she calls over her shoulder. You huff and watch her go. When you turn around you're met by Santana Lopez, but when you move to pass her, she moves with you, effectively blocking your way.

"Good afternoon, Santana," you say, "I was wondering if-" But she interrupts you and silences you with a glare.

This is bad. Really bad.

"I think you and I should have a little talk someday soon, Berry," she says, "How about today, after practice?"

You swallow.

"Well, I do have piano lessons this afternoon, so that might pose to be a problem."

"Oh, don't worry. I don't think it'll take long." She squints her eyes at you swiftly before brushing past you.

Forget about bad. This is the freaking apocalypse.

A/N: Good day to you, kind reader! It's been ten days, and therefore time for a new chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, I honestly have no idea how this ever got this gigantic. It just happened.

Sadly enough, my writer's block is still in full effect, which means that the next chapter (THE NEXT CHAPTER!) is not finished yet. I will not be turning it into an Intermission, because it will be a chapter with significance. What kind of significance I will not be able to tell you though. I don't do spoilers. Anyway, the clue was that it's not done yet, and it won't be an Intermission, which means that I don't have the possibility of posting part of it to still your thirst for chapters.

I hope you will believe me when I tell you that I am terribly sorry.

Oh, also: I will be having finals in two weeks. Meaning, the week after next one. Which means that I will be having very little time to write. The next chapter will, for obvious reasons, probably be posted in THREE WEEKS. Bear with me. Please.

I will be back. Promise.