Rachel wanted to go to New York's highest point and just scream her head off and announce to the city that Jesse St. James is everything her Glee Club teammates have ever accused him of being.

He understood her. He annoyed her. He challenged her. He questioned her. He frustrated her.

He knew her weaknesses, and particularly her desire to know everything, and yet he had pointedly ignored her questioning and cajoling when he had returned from his interlude with Dean Tibideaux. What had he been hiding? Was he even hiding anything? Instead all he told her was that her end-of-term faculty evaluations could be retrieved from the Office of the Dean of her department.

She had thought that two weeks of being the utmost professional would have given him cause for concern, but he hadn't said a word. Not when she refused to answer his seemingly-innocent question of how her Valentine's Day date had gone, or when she had opted not to attend the Julie Andrews-in-My Fair Lady viewing party. She wondered if he had even noticed her cold(er) demeanor. He hasn't said anything about the fact that she was dividing her days after classes between sessions with him and with Claire, or about the fact that for two weeks she made it a point not to mention anything about her personal life to him.

And earlier, he hadn't taken the bait when she'd said that her choice of ballad had a message, nor had he asked why she had chosen to sing that Nelly Furtado song. No, he had just sat there, and listened.

Not a single reaction.

He made her want to tear her hair out.

After the final run through, after he had returned from his meeting with Dean Tibideaux, Jesse had almost immediately told her he had to get going. She had tried to get him to tell her where he was going, but he had merely responded with that annoying catch-all that he had "plans", and that he would see her on Monday afternoon.

He was being deliberately evasive, and it was annoying. He had to know what he was doing, and that only served to irk her even more. What purpose did it serve, after all, for him to avoid giving her a straight answer?

Rachel all but stomped her way from the subway to her apartment door, and she really hoped Brody wasn't doing one of his surprise visits to the apartment because while she hadn't called him out on his flirting with other girls, she wasn't ready to address why she hadn't been intimate with him/avoiding him like the plague for the past two weeks. If she were to be honestly accurate, she knew exactly when she started pulling away from him.

Around the same time a bouquet of pink and white roses that refused to die entered her life.

No, really: those flowers had barely begun to wilt. She attributed their longevity to Kurt's care, but she had no doubt that those things were like the enchanted rose in the Beast's room, because they served a purpose.

What that purpose was, she had no idea. Maybe as a reminder that Jesse thought she was a pink-and-white rose bouquet person in his life and someone else got red roses.

She might still be a little bitter, two (almost three) weeks later.

Rachel had barely gotten the door to the apartment open when her arm was grabbed and she was yanked inside.

Bloody murder. She would be screaming, but she recognized her assailant as Santana Lopez, and she surrendered to the manhandling even as she was shoved onto the couch.

"We needs to talk, Berry."

Oh, joy.

Rachel scowled up at her roommate as she rubbed her arm. She frowned petulantly. "Ow."

Santana pointed at her. "You've been lying, Berry."

Rachel stared at her. Had she gotten made, regarding Jesse?

Santana raised the index finger she had been using to point at Rachel to indicate for Rachel to wait, and she moved to the answering machine and pressed a button.

Finn. Calling to inform the apartment's residents that he needed to get away from Lima after it came out that the New Directions weren't going to Regionals and they were going to be his lucky hosts.

"I didn't invite him." Rachel said quickly. She hadn't even spoken to him in weeks, not since she realized she had her own problems independent of Finn Hudson, and she really didn't need his problems to pile onto hers. Sure, her problems could be categorized as over-privileged upper-middle class not-quite-so-white girl problems, but come on now: she had been told by a talent agent that she needed improving. If you were Rachel Berry, you'd be worried, too.

"He obviously thinks he has a 'welcome anytime' standing invitation."

"He doesn't." Rachel told her firmly.

"He's not coming here, Berry. He can't." Santana swiped something from beside the table. "Do you think I enjoy sitting by the phone waiting for some second-rate wannabe pimp-slash-bar manager-slash-producer-slash-agent to call my land line to prove I actually really do have a New York address and having to field phone calls from your fan club of ass-faced not-boyfriends all day?"

Rachel's face crinkled as she tried to follow Santana's sentence. "What..."

Santana held up the pieces of paper she had picked up, allowing Rachel to recognize the slips from the call log she and Kurt had by the phone. Santana held them up one by one. "Finnocent: Does Rachel have her phone. Finnessa: Why isn't Rachel answering my texts. Pretty Boy: Can you tell Rachel to call me. Angry Finn: What's so important that Rachel can't help me." Santana read. "It hurts me just to read these." She tossed the pieces at Rachel's general direction.

Rachel picked one up at random, examined it, before picking another up. Seeing the exact same thing on two other slips, she looked up and glared at Santana. "These are blank."

"If they're so stupid to leave a message with me they've got another thing coming." Santana retorted. "'Sides, they both start their phone calls with 'Rachel's not answering her phone' which, come on, if you don't want to talk to them why would you care about their messages?"

"I've been busy, that's all." Rachel sighed. "I'm sorry they disrupted your day."

"Disrupted, nothing." Santana scoffed. "I did, however, take their annoying voices as permission to get answers."

"Answers?" Rachel echoed, confused. She had always worried about these kinds of moments with Santana - well, with all Cheerios, for that matter - when they would tell her something vague, obviously expecting her to be puzzled and confused, and they would deliver a zinger of a reply or worse, a Slushy to the face.

Santana nodded. "I've been patient, Berry. I would even go so far as to say I've been the epi-fucking-tome of patience. I sat by and let you avoid the careful questioning of Pale Face, and didn't say a word when you spent an entire Sunday morning staring at those Not-from-Manbot flowers." She picked up a book from the coffee table in front of the couch, opened it to the first page, and held it up to Rachel. "Who's Andy?"

"You touched Patti?" Rachel exclaimed, reaching out to grab the copy of Patti LuPone: A Memoir back. She caressed the book, examining for damage, and was relieved when she found none. How dare Santana touch something away from the safety of a locked trunk. She shot Santana a glare. "Did you break my lock? Have you been rummaging through my things?"

"What?" Santana asked defensively. "I go through yours and Girl Face's things all the time."

Rachel stared at her incredulously. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"Why do you think Q changed her locker combo every two weeks?" Santana asked. She rolled her eyes at Rachel's gaping expression. "Is what I do, OK, Jan Brady, no need to be so surprised about it. Point is, Ken Doll and Stay-Puft have been calling up the phone since you've been avoiding them and you have a book signed to some guy named Andy."

"That's none of your business."

"Is when I have to hear Puffy Nips's whining." Santana replied. "FYI, Berry: I opted out of Ohio for a reason, and one of them is to not see your ex-boyfriend's constipated baby face or hear his whining on a regular basis. I thought we were simpatico on this."

Rachel shook her head, annoyed that it was bad enough she was conflicted regarding Brody and Jesse but of course Finn had to be in the picture, too. She could only afford to say, "Santana, it's not what you think."

"Really? 'Cause I'm thinking maybe you realized you're a sneaky kind of hot with an OK voice in New York City and you're tying yourself down to... Well, let's face it, Puffy's not getting out of Lima and Ab-tastic isn't going anywhere." Santana pointed at the book. "Andy sounds... okay, let's be honest: Andy lined up to have a book signed by a chick who's probably more Broadway than Hollywood, since I've never heard of her-"

"Patti LuPone is an institution!" Rachel exclaimed heatedly.

"-So this guy Andy's probably pretty gay, if we're being brutally honest, which, as we know, I am. But if you're dating him, well, everyone deserves to date that one oops-I-should-have-smelled-the-gay-sooner guy sooner or later, and if not, then I totes support your gathering of your new harem of gay men." Santana gave her a once-over. "God knows you need it."

Rachel glanced down at herself, because she thought she looked pretty OK.

Santana rolled her eyes before crossing her arms and looking at the other brunette impatiently. "So?"

Rachel looked up, and crossed her arms defiantly. "I would like an apology for touching my things, Santana."

"Boohoo, your stuff needed weeding out, anyway." Santana remarked. "Who's Andy, Berry?"

"Andy's nobody." Rachel answered in exasperation, throwing her hands up. "If anything, he used to own the book, which is now mine."

Santana narrowed her eyes at Rachel, calculating, before she shook her head. "Whatever. But piece of advice? If you're stepping out on Ken, you can't leave stuff just lying around."

"I'm not..." Rachel began, but groaned. "Besides, we're in an open relationship!"

Santana, who had taken a seat on the opposite end of the couch, glanced at her and scoffed. "You don't know what that means."

"It means we can see other people!" She had her own apprehensions regarding the standing of her relationship with Brody, but that didn't mean Santana could just attack her current relationship.

"It means you're in a committed relationship but are allowed to date or sleep with other people." Santana reminded. "Are you and Straight Ken dating?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Santana pressed. "FYI, Berry: Sex isn't dating."

Rachel gave her a sidelong glance.

"I would know." Santana declared in a matter-of-fact tone.

Rachel shrugged. "I admit, we haven't been out on a lot of dates..."

"Uh huh." Santana smirked. She picked up her nail file, and used it to gesture at Rachel. "Since I haven't seen you date anyone else, and if you're not dating Gay Andy, I'm guessing there's a reason you agreed to a casual - and by casual I mean sexual - relationship with Magic Mike." Santana continued.

"That's not true," Rachel argued. "We simply agreed that calling it a serious relationship is intimidating for both of us, and an open relationship is less demanding."

"You're Rachel Berry, you're always demanding." Santana reminded. "Face it, Berry: you want to call it an open relationship so you have an out if and when you fall off the wagon and hook up with Finnessa."

Rachel frowned. "That's ridiculous."

"Then why aren't you dating anyone else?" Santana pointed out.

"I haven't met anyone new that I'd like to date." Not a total lie.

Santana scoffed. "Really? City of your dreams, where every other guy not in a suit's a wannabe actor or musician, and you haven't met anyone you'd like to date?" She questioned.

"What about you, I don't see you dating."

"I'm broke, Berry, and unlike two McKinley queens I happen to live with, my parents won't provide me rent money for a Brooklyn loft, and unlike a certain drama queen I'm talking to right now, my dads don't let Jewish guilt provide me with unlimited funds." Santana retorted. "So, yeah: try again."

"I'm fine with Brody."

"You're waiting for Finnadequate to pull his head out of his ass and come crawling back," Santana argued. "Which, what even? You can't tell me he's good in the sack, because I've been there, and I doubt it."

"You don't know what our love is like." Rachel shot back.

"Your love is a high school fantasy for prepubescent idiots who think their lives would be better if they end up with the school quarterback." Santana snapped.

"You don't know anything!"

"I know it's unhealthy."

"It's not!"

"The fact that you two broke up and he's still stringing you along with stupid texts claiming he can't do stuff without you tells me it's unhealthy," Santana countered. She shook her head. "You know, it was kinda funny last year? But Q almost died because of your half-assed decisions and it stopped being funny then."

Rachel's protest died on her lips, because when it came to harsh truths, nothing was harsher than the realization that if she hadn't rushed Quinn on her way to hers and Finn's not-wedding, Quinn wouldn't have been in a near-fatal car accident.

Santana sighed, the fight leaving her at the sight of Rachel's broken expression. "Look. I don't like him. That's obvious. But if Finnessa's coming, don't do anything stupid, OK? You have a life here, and it's a good one. Maybe you're not in love with McConaughey - don't bother denying it, we both know it's true - but it doesn't mean you can't move on from Hudson. Do yourself a favor and just... not go there."

Rachel stared at her, not completely sure if she was staring at Santana because of her shock that Santana was giving her such a heartfelt plea, or because Santana had dared to say harsh truths that Rachel still wasn't prepared to hear. A part of her loved Finn, and she believed she always will, but she had been avoiding his calls and ignoring his texts the past two weeks. She knew how easy it was to fall back to old habits, and she didn't put it past herself to not-quite-so-casually mention that Jesse was in New York just to get a rise out of him, or maybe to force Finn's hand about his ambivalence about the big city.

And there's Jesse. She had come to the conclusion that she wanted Jesse, more than she wanted Brody, but she was beginning to think that maybe Jesse didn't want her. She wasn't sure if that was one of the reasons why she was so intrigued by this new version of Jesse. He was like the Jesse she knew, but he didn't seem to be as interested in her as he used to be. He had matured, and he wasn't as easily swept up in the push-and-pull of his relationship with Rachel. He was still connected to her, but he refused to be hooked. And Rachel had never been one to turn her back on a challenge.

And there was Brody, who was a nice guy but ultimately not someone she saw herself really lasting long with. He was fun, and he was attentive; sweet and kind. But she wasn't heavily invested in their relationship. She was afraid to even consider if she would have been so willing to take him back if he had gone and slept with a girl other than Cassandra July - she was honest enough to acknowledge that the thrill of being chosen over Ms. July had been an ego boost.

Her life was a mess.

Rachel's introspection in the relative privacy of her "room" was interrupted by a soft knock on the shelf that served as a divider between her bedroom and the rest of the living room. She looked up and saw Kurt standing there. "Hi, Kurt."

Kurt gave her a faint smile. "Santana texted me, about Finn. How are you doing?"

"As can be expected, I suppose." Rachel admitted. She slumped back against her headboard. "Did you tell him he could come?"

"And have him ask me questions about Adam when Blaine is still sulking in Lima?" Kurt reminded, his tone dry. "Obviously."

Rachel gave him a wry smile. "Obviously."

Kurt was sympathetic. "I can tell him not to come."

"And have him bombard us with endless questions on why." Rachel reminded. "I look forward to it already."

Kurt smiled, and sat down on the bed facing her. "You've been sulking here all afternoon."

"Santana."

"Enough said." Kurt noted. "Where is our resident Scary Spice, anyway?"

"She had an audition of some kind in a bar." Rachel told him. "I offered for us to come see her, but she said it wasn't our kind of place."

"Fifties-themed diner, right?"

"That was my guess." Rachel agreed.

"Well, it's good that she's gone." Kurt said. He took a moment, studying Rachel, before his gaze flickered briefly to the roses near the window in Rachel's room. "I have to tell you something."

"Good news, please."

"Afraid not." Kurt said weakly. "I saw Jesse St. James today."

Rachel hoped she was a better actress than she felt at that moment as she feigned curious interest. "Oh?"

"He was in NYADA! Can you believe it?" Kurt asked, obviously excited about this piece of gossip and how he was breaking the news to Rachel.

Okay. Kurt didn't know. But.

"Did you know he was in New York?" Kurt asked Rachel, leaning forward.

"What could he be doing in New York?" Rachel returned the question with one she had been wondering for weeks.

Kurt shrugged. "So weird he was in NYADA, though." He also wondered aloud, gazing out her window.

Note to self: no more visits from Jesse to NYADA.

"Since he probably knew you were going to be there." Kurt continued.

Rachel forced a smile.

Kurt turned to her. "I know you and Brody are having problems, and I haven't pushed-" Off Rachel's wry glance, he added, "-too much. But we both know that you have a tendency to fall back on what's familiar when things get... dicey."

"Is that the cool new slang, Kurt?"

Kurt shot her a glare. "You know what I mean."

She did. It was why she didn't want to talk to Finn, or Brody, and why she didn't just go and ask Jesse if he had a girlfriend. When things got, as Kurt described, "dicey", she tended to play it safe and just revert to form, go back to old habits. And at the moment, she worried that her insecurities regarding Jesse might result in her turning to Brody despite her reservations on the status of their relationship, or worse.

She didn't want to consider the "or worse".

"I know you like him. And we all know how he appeals to your narcissism." Kurt continued. "But if your paths cross..."

Rachel sighed, disbelieving that she had to have this discussion again, but with someone else, and regarding someone else. "He's a friend."

"A friend you're attracted to."

"He's very handsome." Rachel said defensively, as if it needed saying.

Kurt gave her a look.

Rachel sighed again, and said what would seem randomly innocuous but she was beginning to think about more and more. "Who's to say he would even want to get back together?"

"Rachel."

"I know, Kurt." Rachel glared at him. She knew what Kurt was trying to say, about her and Jesse and the see-saw and magnetic pull that was their relationship, but she didn't want to hear about it. Not now.

"Do you?" Kurt pressed.

Rachel looked at him. She had to know one thing. "Would it be so bad, though? Jesse's not that bad."

"He's not that good, either."

Rachel couldn't help but frown. "Why don't you like him?"

Kurt gave her a pointed look. "Do I need to give reasons?"

Rachel shrugged.

"Well, in case you've forgotten, he egged you. He spied on us. He left us right before Regionals and set us up for failure. He tried to turn us against each other before Nationals in New York. He coached Vocal Adrenaline." Kurt enumerated. "He's not a good guy, Rachel."

Rachel studied him, hearing and listening to Kurt's explanation, but finding nothing of real substance to his assertion. Yes, Jesse had done all those things. Yes, Jesse had hurt her before. But he had been decent enough to apologize for his transgressions. He knew his faults, and he faced up to them so he could look her in the eye unflinchingly. He could admit his flaws. He had done all those things, but that didn't mean he wasn't a good guy.

And she knew now that Kurt was her best friend, and hated being judged, but he was not above passing his own judgment without knowing everything.

It wasn't his fault: he didn't know Jesse the way she did. All New Directions saw - had ever seen - was the guy who went after their lead performer and wooed his way into her life, only to turn around and go back to his team of automatons. They didn't know what he had done to earn her trust, the way he had made her feel special; how one year after he left so unceremoniously he had given her a heartfelt apology, tried to earn his way back into her heart.

They didn't know that just a few weeks ago, she had asked him for help and he had come through.

This was the problem when you wanted everything too much and let your heart lead your life.

She was a mess.

Even though her classes were going well and she was apparently good enough to be working alongside Jesse St. James and Claire Beaumont. She was getting along with Kurt and despite Santana's lack of sense for privacy, she knew she could count on the Hispanic girl.

But as usual, her heart was causing chaos in her life.

Usually when that happened she curled up in bed and went on a Barbra marathon with her dads. After all, when in doubt, turn to Barbra.

She couldn't turn to Kurt, and go on a trashy reality TV binge/marathon, not when she knew how he felt about Jesse and how he was related to Finn.

So instead she decided she needed time away from New York. To recharge. To prepare herself for the upcoming invasion of Finn Hudson into her carefully-crafted life in New York City.

She still hadn't gotten over the events of his last visit.

There was one person she could turn to now, to talk to. Someone who had turned out to be one of few people to be able to talk to her and understand her so clearly, tell her the truth without forcing her hand. Someone she could talk to honestly, whose judgment she trusted, even when she didn't want to hear it.

Rachel never imagined she would see the day that the only person she could imagine turning to would be Quinn Fabray.