Chapter 11

Says something like: you and me babe, how about it?

When you are forced to hide a relationship to the outside world, and for the outside world I mean family, friends, teachers, classmates, teammates and the entire town of Lima, you become incredibly sharp. And, unfortunately, also incredibly paranoid. Or at least, it's like that for me.

Rachel seems to live it more thoughtlessly than me, but she's not the one who risks to be put on the electric chair if her parents find out about it. I never fail to remind her that, especially when she looks at me like I'm a candy while we're sitting in the living room of my house with Judy and Russell Fabray around.

In the last weeks I finally got to know her dads, who already adore me, according to Rachel, and I introduced her to my parents. I admit that I'm often on the edge of bursting into laugh when they refer to her as "my friend", but I try to control myself and to keep a low key. According to my father, Rachel "really seems a good girl" and my mom doesn't do anything but ask her about the musical and her projects for the future.

For now things between us are going very well. Sometimes we fight because I'm dating a psychomaniac and I remind her of it every time it comes the occasion, but we make it up with each other the minute after. It's physically impossible for us to be apart.

Speaking of which, it didn't take so much time to break the ice on the topic "kisses and displays of affection in general", not even in the beginning. To be sure, we avoid to put our hands on each other when we are not alone in the house, even if sometimes it's hard to contain ourselves and a kiss slips out anyway. Sometimes even two. Or three.

Some nights ago the situation got out of hand and Hiram Berry almost caught us. We were in Rachel's room and we were watching TV, when the show lost our interest and we decided to do something else. The volume was too high and we didn't hear steps coming. When he knocked the door, we separate instantly. Actually, I almost fell from the bed for the briskness. We came to the point that it's better keeping the volume lower if we find the TV boring again.

Considering the last developments, I avoid to leave my phone unsupervised, especially if Santana is roaming like an hungry vulture. It occurred that she caught me reading a message of Rachel and that she asked me why I had the face of a person who "just saw an angel from Heaven". I also caught her a couple of times peeking over my shoulder while I was writing a message during a lesson.

She's been my friend for a long time, but the less she knows about my extracurricular activities, the better is.

By the way, it's hard to be bored when you are with Rachel. She is like a gun always load, a ball that doesn't stop bouncing and that slips from your hands if you try to hold it. She seems to have a permanent charged battery.

I would be a hundred times more scared of all of this, of the possibility of being discovered and of having to hide, if she wasn't here to give me security.

In spite of everything, there are moments in which I ask to myself if she is serious or not. For example, in one of the rare moments of intimacy that we can allow ourselves a night, when my parents are having a business dinner with some of my father's clients, she comes out with something like, "You know Quinn, we haven't had our first date yet."

"Our first date?" I echo her, keeping on playing with a lock of her hair.

"Yes," she nods, "we've been together for some weeks already and we didn't go out to make it official yet."

I distance my face in order to scrutinize the girl in my arms, a confused expression going with my gesture.

"Rachel, we went out a lot of times!"

"You're right, but we never went out like that."

"And…?" I invite her to go on with her weird thesis with a raised eyebrow.

"And I think that we should go out. I mean, go out go out. Doing what normal couples do."

"Rachel," I interrupt her, "maybe you didn't notice, but we are not what could be defined as a normal couple."

Rachel suddenly clouds over, directing at me a look that promises an imminent outburst of rage.

"No wait" I quickly say to prevent her rant. "I meant that we aren't a normal couple because we can't behave like one, in the broad daylight. Not because this" I say pointing first me and then her "is not normal."

I run a hand on my forehead, sighing. She manages to make me panic in a second.

"Quinn, I perfectly understand your fears and your paranoia, but also friends hang out. Do you really think that every citizen of Lima will bother to observe every single gesture to know if we are friends or lovers?"

I open my mouth to speak, but Rachel hushes me right away, sitting on the bed. "We often went out in the last months. Since we are together, we are always hiding instead. I don't mind being closed in a room with you, but it would be amazing to do something different."

I lean on my elbow and I move my eyes to the wall. "I don't know, Rachel. I don't want to draw the attention on us."

"And you think that let them see us together is enough to rise suspects?" she asks me, her voice vaguely upset. "We're not Hollywood celebrities."

Okay, maybe it's an absurdity and I'm overreacting.

"Quinn" she starts again taking my free hand, her tone of voice more calm and soft. "We don't have to walk in the streets holding hands. Well, it would be fantastic if one day we could do it, but sure not here and not now."

I give her a smile and I suddenly feel more relieved and confident. Rachel comes a little closer and starts to caress my cheek.

"Let's go out. Let's try to live it the most normally we can."

I process her statement for a moment, frowning and scrutinizing her, uncertain. "You want to have an official first date only to make me give you chocolate and flowers as a gift, admit it."

Rachel's face lights up in a smile while she shakes her head. "Your suspicion is offending me, Quinn, and it's completely inappropriate! I wouldn't reject a boxful if you will decide to give me a gift, though. And a rose, of course."

I smile back at her while I delicately stroke her hair.

"So? What do you think?" she asks finally, joining her hands almost as to beg me.

"Okay. Let's do it" I sigh, drawing her on me, our noses touching.

We remain looking at each other in silence, smiling. Our breaths are the only audible sounds in the room.

"You are the best girlfriend in the world" she whispers to me.

I blow out a puff of air, rolling my eyes. "Only because I agreed with giving you our first date?" I joke.

"No. You are, that's it."

She leans over further to give me a kiss. Then they become two kisses. Then three. Then four. And then I forget in what year we are.

"It's not bad to be locked away in a bedroom, isn't it?" I tease her within the kisses.

Rachel smiles on my lips, her eyes closed. "Not at all."

"Mediocres! Under the shower!" coach Sylvester shouts through the megaphone.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and I try to catch my breath placing my hands on my knees. The last trainings have been very intense. I have the feeling that the coach wants to make us go to Nationals championship crawling on our elbows. Or on a stretcher.

I'm about to head to the locker room, when the coach calls me asking me to bring the skipping rope in the warehouse near the bleachers.

We started a little time ago to train in the external field and I couldn't wait to being again outside. The sun shines high in the sky and a mild and gentle breeze blows. Better hurry up and go under the shower to avoid having a cold. Coach Sylvester would make me join the Nationals even with a pneumonia.

I put the box in its place next to the soccer balls in the not well-lighted warehouse and I close the door behind me. I made only one step when I feel someone pulling me by my arm and my back bumps against the wall, making me cringe for pain.

I don't even have the time to protest anyway. Rachel's lips are already glued on mine. My hands are blocked on the sides of my head and her body keeps me well pressed on the wall.

"Rachel… Rachel…" I try to say within the kisses. "Rachel, wait. Stop a moment!"

But there is no chance we will stop and my opposition is so weak that it results not so believable, not even to myself.

"Rachel, wait." I finally find the strength to gently push her away, releasing the grip from my hands.

I glance around, wary, carefully controlling to not have unwanted viewers. I bring my attention back to a panting Rachel, with a smirk on her lips and the typical look of a cat that waits for the canary to come out of the cage.

"Rachel," I begin with the calmest tone I can find at the moment, "let's immediately clarify one thing."

"I'm listening, Quinn."

"I'm not going to die of heartache at the age of 17 only because you have a strange conception of improvising" I blurt out raising the voice of one octave.

"It wasn't my intent-"

"And you can't come here" I interrupt her raising my voice, "after making me almost die, and kiss me just like that in the middle of the field."

"Technically we are not in the middle of the field. We are in a remote place, hiding from the bleachers, and no one is here but us" she says, flat. "I'm not that reckless, Quinn."

I take a step forward with that You're playing with fire look of mine, narrowing my eyes and mentally casting curses on Rachel.

"Okay, sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have kissed you here at school."

"No, you should have not done it" I shoot back.

"But I couldn't resist" she tries to justify herself. "I saw you while you where training and you look so charming…" She smiles shyly, taking a step toward me.

I move back, my arms crossed and still that killer look on my face. Thinking over about it, return with the back against the wall was not a good idea.

"What are you doing here, Rach?" I ask, the rage that starts to slowly (very slowly) lessen.

Rachel shrugs. "I was done with studying, I know that on Wednesday you have trainings and I wanted to see you" she explains nonchalantly.

"And what if someone saw you entering the school?"

Rachel raises an eyebrow and burst into a sarcastic laugh. "You are right, Quinn. A seventeen years old girl in a high school is suspicious. Probably I didn't pass by unnoticed."

I puff irritated. "Don't you dare, Rachel. You know the rules. No kisses in public. My school is in that category. Someone could catch us."

She tries to open her mouth to reply, but I interrupt her.

"You shouldn't even be here" I say, pointing a finger against her chest.

"I didn't think that the warehouse had a door that can be closed" she mumbles distractedly, saying her thoughts out loud.

"Rachel!" I snap at her.

"Sorry, sorry." She raise her hands. "I shouldn't had come here and put in danger our dirty little secret. I'm sorry. It will not happen again. You have my word."

It would be much more simple to be angry with her if she wasn't that adorable.

"It's okay" I sigh, getting closer to her. "But it doesn't have to happen again, am I clear?"

"Okay."

"We have time to do those things when we are alone" I murmur, while my cheeks become slightly red.

For the first time in some weeks I feel embarrassed referring to our intimate moments. And, despite of the risk, I have to admit that this situation is tempting and it's causing me a strange feeling in my belly.

"I better go in the locker room now or they would think I'm missing" I say, before doing something I would regret later.

I place a quick kiss on her lips (not before having checked if we are spied) and I move away from her turning back.

"Actually," Rachel begins, running after me and blocking my way, "I also came to confirm our date on Saturday night."

"What date?" I ask confused.

"Well, you know, our official first date. We talked about it."

I sigh, exasperated. "Rachel, we've never decided to set a date on this Saturday."

"I don't see the reason why we should wait" she says shrugging, clear.

I lean my hands on my hips, letting a deep breath out and glancing at the field. I shake my head, dazed. I would have never believed to say this, but Rachel Berry is more back-breaking then a coach Sylvester's training.

I bring my eyes back to the brunette, who is still waiting for my answer.

"I haven't organized anything yet" I admit, flat, hoping to escape in this way.

Rachel smiles. "You don't have to organize anything. Bringing yourself would be enough."

Wow. That was sweet. The desire of slapping her vanishes in a moment. The impulse is to trail her on the warehouse and close the door, as she offered some minutes ago. But no, this girl is wearing you out. Focus, Quinn.

"Rachel, I'm tired, I'm sweaty and I need to go changing my clothes. If I may."

I'm about to go away but she stops me again, stopping me with one hand and forcing me to remain in front of her.

"Saturday night?" she asks me with a tone it's impossible to say no to.

I chew my bottom lip as I ponder. "Saturday night" I state finally, rolling my eyes.

Rachel lets out a satisfied squeak. "Sorry, I'll let you go now. I won't stop you anymore" she says thrillingly, incapable of containing her happiness.

I burst into laugh and my gaze softens. I resist to the temptation of kissing her. I'm aware of having lost almost all of my dignity in the last few minutes and I would like to keep the rest of it.

"I'll call you later" I say.

"Yeah. But first…" Rachel slowly moves closer and stops a few inches away from my face. She raises her head, her right index draws a vertical line from my chest to my abdomen. Her eyes go from mine to my mouth and then return on my eyes.

She briefly licks her lips and I noisily hold back a breath.

"You look so good in that uniform" she whispers in my ear, raising on the tips of her feet, before disappearing around the corner.

I stand still, my legs flaccid as jelly and the possibility of having become cyanotic by now.

I definitely need a shower.

Author's note: I'd like to take the chance to wish you all happy holidays :) And thank you, again. I can never thank you enough for the support showed.