Again, a massive 'thank you' to everyone who's continuing to read and review this story - especially you wonderful folks who take the time to comment on every other chapter! This is now officially the longest fic I've ever written and, as someone with the attention span of a goldfish who usually sticks to one-shots in obscure fandoms, your feedback is working wonders when it comes to keeping me fired up. This is more of a filler chapter before I move on to the meaty stuff next week, but I have six days off over Easter, so I'm hoping to write a mammoth instalment then. Until next time!
Rachel's all-too-familiar with the sense of impending dread that comes from walking down a crowded corridor and having it fall completely silent. Then, slowly, the whispers start, until she's bombarded with the low hum of ridicule. It's only a matter of time before someone has the nerve to hurl the first insult, and then it's open season. By the time she arrives at her dance class, she's already been asked if Cassie has a dungeon in her basement, if she acquired her golden ticket by performing sexual favours for Carmen Tibideaux, and exactly what being "Cassie's little bitch" entails (complete with a host of profane suggestions). She just grits her teeth and takes the moral high ground, refusing to grace the immature imbeciles with a response, but it's hard to maintain her composure when she walks into the studio and Simon drops to his knees in front of her.
"No, Miss July, please, doooon't go. I love you sooooo much," he wails, clutching her legs, and anger bubbles up inside of her, making her hands tremble and her cheeks burn. She's tempted to kick him in the face, but Kurt steps in before she has the chance.
"OK, you need to back off," he warns quietly, doing his best to look intimidating, but Simon just sneers at him.
"I've got to admit, Berry, I never had you pegged for a rug muncher," he snipes, jostling past Rachel en route to the barre. Kurt squeezes her wrist, regarding her with concern.
"Just ignore him," he urges, and Rachel does her best to look unaffected.
"Being called a lesbian isn't an insult, Kurt," she reminds him, "And besides, I don't think anything could burst my bubble after the weekend I've just had."
"Believe me, I know," he gripes, "I was the one who had to hear about it in explicit detail, remember? And I had to practically air-lift you out of bed this morning."
Rachel's lips curl upwards. "I told you, Cassie and I engaged in a rigorous workout session."
"Oh, I bet you did," Kurt counters drolly, and Rachel giggles, trying not to look like the walking wounded as she settles into her warm-up routine.
"Fair play to you, Berry," Nathan calls from across the room, "I'd tap the hell out of Miss July given half the chance, too."
Rachel wonders if he's trying to be nice to her, but then he snorts with laughter.
"I just don't get why she'd want to hook up with you, of all people."
"Yeah, I thought she hated your guts?" Carol Robinson chips in, "Or was that just for show?"
For some reason, their remarks seem to sting more than any of the others, but Rachel turns her back to the rest of the class, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the doubts from creeping in. It's obvious that everyone thinks she's deluding herself – that she's being played for a fool – but she knows the connection she has with Cassie isn't fabricated; that it's worth weathering the abuse for. She focuses on savouring everything that transpired between them this weekend, and tries not to think about Cassie's tendency to blow hot and cold. She's making progress, and that's all that really matters, even if there are still times when Cassie seems to shut her out completely. Still, at least Cassie's cutting gibes seem to have given way to good-natured teasing. At least she isn't saying things that are so casually hurtful, Rachel has to wonder if she has any regard for her feelings at all. Rachel's painfully aware of the fact that she's falling head over heels in love with this woman, and Cassie doesn't have anything approaching that level of fondness for her, but maybe she can wear her down bit by bit, like she did with Finn. Her persistence usually pays off. The fact that she's here at NYADA is proof enough of that.
Rachel snaps back to attention when she hears the door swing shut, and her mouth falls open when she sees a diminutive old lady make her way to the front of the room. Her thinning hair is gelled back into a severe bun, and someone that gnarled should not be allowed to wear a unitard in public. She thought Cassie was joking about her replacement, but her description turned out to be horrifically accurate, and Rachel casts a surreptitious glance at her classmates, who look as taken aback as she does.
Rachel tries not to hate this woman on principle, but it's hard to warm to her, especially when she spends most of the lesson regaling them with anecdotes about her own career. Apparently, she's been plucked out of retirement so she can reminisce about the good old days. Rachel has to admit, she has an impressive resume and she's a veritable fountain of knowledge, but telling them how to do things isn't anywhere near as effective as showing them, and her lesson plan is completely uninspired. They line up in rows and practice the same mind-numbing routine, over and over again, and Rachel's never been so bored in her life.
"Excellent work, Miss Berry," Mrs Dumont congratulates her, and it's a miracle that she can move around the class without the aid of a walker. Rachel jumps a little, somehow managing to summon a gracious smile.
"Thank you, Ma'am," she says, through gritted teeth, because she knows she's distracted and listless and far from being at her best. Cassie wouldn't be complimenting her right now, she'd be kicking her ass.
Mrs Dumont continues to circle them, offering advice and encouragement, but nobody seems to be listening.
"I never thought I'd say this, but is there any chance we can get Miss July back? She might be a crazy bitch, but at least she keeps things interesting," Carol whispers to her clique of friends.
Nathan shakes his head. "I doubt it. I heard she got fired for drinking on the job."
"Yeah, and apparently Berry isn't the only student she's been screwing," Simon informs them quietly. "I was speaking to Neil Ward – he's in her advanced class – and he said she's worked her way through half the upperclassmen. He didn't know she was into chicks, though."
"Are you 100% sure that Berry is a chick? Because if I was a betting man..."
Rachel thought she'd learned to tune out people's hateful remarks years ago, but apparently, there's no such thing as immunity. She purses her lips, blinking back tears, but it isn't the speculation about her gender that bothers her, it's the revelation that apparently she's just another notch on Cassie's bedpost. It would be easier to dismiss the rumours if she didn't already know that there's a grain of truth behind them – after all, Cassie didn't need much of an incentive to sleep with Brody. In fact, she just used him as part of some twisted scheme to get back at her, and if Cassie holds sex in such low regard that she's willing to sleep with someone purely out of spite, then who's to say it isn't a regular occurrence?
Rachel can't ask Cassie if they're exclusive, because she's not entirely sure if she wants to hear the answer, and she knows it'll only succeed in making her look jealous and insecure. She can't help but wonder how she compares to Cassie's previous lovers, though. She thinks about Joanne – the woman from the strip club who's the living embodiment of sex appeal – and it's obvious that she and Cassie were more than just friends at one point. And then there's Brody, who – as Cassie said herself – is the hottest piece of ass at NYADA. Rachel knows she's woefully inexperienced compared to most girls her age (Cassie's already made that perfectly clear) and the more she thinks about it, the more she has to wonder what Cassie sees in her. Carol's right, Cassie used to despise her – at one point, she was even petitioning for her to be banned from Dance 101 altogether - so what provoked the change? Does Cassie genuinely like her, or is she just biding her time until she finds someone else to toy with?
When Mrs Dumont finally dismisses the class, Rachel can't get out of there quickly enough. She doesn't even wait for Kurt, she just heads straight for the bathroom and locks herself in a cubicle, sinking dejectedly onto the toilet seat.
When her cell phone starts ringing, she has to blink away the blurriness before she can see the display, and her heart skips a beat when she sees Cassie's name illuminated on the screen. She takes a moment to gather her composure, but her hands are shaking when she accepts the call.
"Hey. Just checking in to make sure you're holding up OK?" Cassie asks, and Rachel's chin starts to tremble all over again.
"I'm fine," she manages to choke out, because maybe Cassie cares about her after all.
"So, what's the verdict?" Cassie ventures, "Are we front page news? Are they being all kinds of inappropriate?"
"They mostly just want to know what you're like in bed," Rachel informs her, neglecting to mention that a significant portion of the student body reportedly already knows.
"Well, I hope you told them I'm a bona fide Sex Goddess," Cassie jokes, and Rachel can imagine her wry smile.
"Actually, I told them to mind their own business."
"Well, that works, too." Cassie laughs, and Rachel's lips quirk in response. "So, am I still the biggest bitch in NYADA's history, or did someone else steal my crown?"
"I think your legacy's safe for now," Rachel murmurs, hoping her tone doesn't sound as strained as it feels.
Cassie hesitates, and there's a note of trepidation in her voice when she asks, "How do you like your new dance teacher?"
"I don't," Rachel says bluntly, "To say she's past her prime would be an understatement. The lesson was tedious and unimaginative, and she's not..." Rachel wonders if she should say it - if it sounds too clingy – but it slips out anyway, "She's not you."
"Well, you know what they say," Cassie concludes, and her tone is soft now, "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."
Rachel nods her agreement, but she can't withhold a hitching sob, because she's starting to think that it's only a matter of time before Cassie walks away from her for good.
"Hey! Are you crying?" Cassie demands, and Rachel sucks in a shaky breath.
"No! Don't be silly. I told you, I'm fine."
"It's a good job you can act better than you can lie, Schwimmer," Cassie informs her, and Rachel bites her lip, desperately trying to get a hold on her emotions.
"You could always... come over tonight. I mean, if you don't have other plans?" Cassie asks her haltingly, and Rachel's palms immediately start to perspire.
"Do you even have to ask?" she manages to say, swallowing back a fresh onslaught of tears, because surely Cassie wouldn't be seeking out her company if she didn't enjoy spending time with her?
"Well, I thought you might need more time to recover from yesterday's escapades, and I'd hate to stand between you and your homework," Cassie drawls, tongue firmly in cheek.
"You're talking to the girl who used to juggle Glee rehearsals, dance classes, voice coaching and an intensive fitness regime, all the while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. I think I'll manage."
"OK, Schwimmer, you can stop reciting your NYADA application now. I get the drift," Cassie says dryly. "Stop by around six thirty and I'll... attempt to rustle up some food, or something."
"I thought you didn't do stuff like that?" Rachel can't help but tease, because she's feeling a little emboldened by Cassie's offer.
"We're not talking a candlelit meal for two, Schwimmer. But I think I can stretch to a tofu stir-fry."
Cassie always has to scrape the icing off her cake, but Rachel smiles in spite of herself. Right now, she'll take what she can get.
"That sounds great," she proclaims, hoping she doesn't seem too enthusiastic.
"OK, then. I'll catch you later. I'm heading out to flash some leg and bat my eyelashes at a few people in the hopes of palming off these flyers and booking a decent dance studio."
"Good luck," Rachel tells her earnestly, and she can sense Cassie smiling on the other end of the receiver.
"Thanks. Oh, and Schwimmer?" Cassie says, and her voice is low and warm, "Keep your chin up, OK? They'll find something else to gossip about soon."
"I hope so," Rachel tells her tremulously. "See you tonight."
When she hangs up the phone, she's grinning from ear to ear, and her faith is restored... albeit momentarily.
Her happiness doesn't last for long, though. At lunch time, she's summoned to Carmen Tibideaux's office, and she waits in the foyer, wringing her hands. She knows she owes this woman everything - that her life would have taken a completely different turn if Carmen hadn't given her a second chance - but right now, she's so mad at her for firing Cassie, she doesn't know how she's going to be civil. When Carmen's PA shows her into the sprawling office, Rachel tries to tone down her glare, aiming for a look of mild disdain instead.
"Miss Berry," Carmen says, gesturing to the chair across from her, "Take a seat."
Rachel lowers herself primly into the ornate oak chair, folding her hands in her lap. The silence stretches on for what seems like an eternity, and she gets the impression that Carmen's trying to intimidate her.
"I know how hard you worked to earn your place at NYADA, and there's no denying that you're one of the most talented students here," Carmen informs her, with a tight-lipped smile.
"Thank you," Rachel says stiffly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"But I would hate to see you jeopardise what looks to be a very promising career by getting involved with someone who doesn't have your best interests at heart," Carmen pointedly concludes.
Rachel meets her penetrating gaze without flinching. "With all due respect, Miss Tibideaux, that's not going to happen. I don't allow my relationships to effect my work ethic."
"Be that as it may, being surrounded by negativity isn't good for the soul," Carmen observes, and Rachel can't take the faintly-veiled aspersions anymore.
"And firing the best dance teacher this school's ever had isn't good for your students, either," she snaps, and Carmen raises her eyebrows.
"That would be the same dance teacher you claimed was 'making your life a living hell' after she threw you out of class?" Carmen reminds her, and Rachel ducks her head.
"I'm not going to deny that Miss July has been known to... tow the line on occasion, but I've been taking dance lessons since I was old enough to walk – I thought my technique was beyond reproach – and she made me realise that I still have so much to learn, that there's still room for improvement." Rachel takes a moment to swallow around the lump in her throat. "So yes, at times she pushed me to my limits, but she's made me better than I've ever been before, and I don't... I don't see how that's a bad thing."
"It's not," Carmen assures her, but then she leans forward, folding her arms across the desk, "Providing you're not being taken advantage of."
"Miss Tibideaux, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but Cassandra doesn't work here anymore and what I choose to do on my own time is... is frankly none of your business," Rachel informs her, doing her best to stand her ground in the face of Carmen's unrelenting scrutiny.
"Then it appears that I may have underestimated your intelligence, Miss Berry," Carmen concludes, heaving a resigned sigh, "Because I thought you were a hell of a lot smarter than that."
The words sting, but Rachel just offers Carmen a brusque nod.
"May I be excused?" she asks, and Carmen waves her hand dismissively.
"Go. Just know that I'm going to be watching you very closely from now on, and you'd better pray that your standards don't start to slip."
"They won't," Rachel informs her resolutely, but her knees are shaking when she clambers to her feet.
When Cassie opens the door later on that evening, Rachel's mouth goes dry. Her heart's already drumming against her chest and her stomach's tied in knots, but the sight of Cassie looking so casually elegant, clad in a pair of skin-tight navy jeans and a powder blue shirt, leaves her rooted to the spot. Cassie's make-up is subtle, but her pale grey eye-shadow is really making her eyes pop, and Rachel just stares at her, completely transfixed.
"Hi," she says shyly, once she's capable of forming words, and when Cassie smiles back at her, it's an effort not to swoon.
"Hi yourself." Cassie reaches out, affectionately tugging on her beret, and Rachel's grin gets even wider.
"I bought dessert from that little vegan place around the corner," she informs Cassie, handing her a cake box, and Cassie seems to hesitate a little before taking it from her.
"And here I was, hoping for a bottle of wine," she says, blithely, and Rachel crosses her arms.
"Which I'm not yet old enough to purchase," she reminds her, and Cassie rolls her eyes.
"I already feel like a cradle-snatcher, Schwimmer. Don't make it worse."
"Well, I'm hardly what you would consider jail-bait," Rachel reassures her, and Cassie laughs.
"Not unless I finally give in to the urge to throttle you."
"Hey!" Rachel protests, but Cassie's smiling at her again, so she can't pretend to be offended for long. "How old are you, anyway?" she ventures curiously, and Cassie's eyebrows shoot up.
"Old enough to know better," she fires back, and Rachel sighs, because she's clearly not going to get a straight answer. She vows to dig up a list of NYADA's alumni and find out when Cassie graduated – or better yet, try to get her hands on an old yearbook. Not that it really matters, because the age difference is the least of her concerns.
"But it's not like..." she hesitates, wondering if she should seize the opportunity or steer clear of any potential conflict.
"It's not like what?" Cassie prompts impatiently, and Rachel regards her intently.
"It's not like I'm the only student you've ever slept with, right?" she blurts out. The words hang in the air for a moment, and she wishes she could take them back, because the relaxed camaraderie between them instantly vanishes. Cassie looks nonplussed, but then her expression hardens.
"Well, you already know about Brody," she informs Rachel matter-of-factly, "And then there was Dmitri, the Russian exchange student who was just too good an opportunity to pass up, and Shaun... and Francesca. Tommy Raven was pretty forgettable, but Alexandra Blasucci - well, she was something else," Cassie concludes with a rakish grin, "Oh, and then there was the threesome with Sara and her boyfriend, and that one time I made Benji completely forget that he was gay..."
Rachel's expression of unmitigated horror slowly gives way to suspicion. "You're joking," she realises, with an acute sense of relief, and Cassie lays a hand on her lower back, ushering her towards the kitchen.
"Yes, Schwimmer, I'm joking. It's not something I generally make a habit of, in spite of what you may have heard."
"I didn't really believe it," Rachel hastens to reassure her, and she's not sure if she's lying to herself, or to Cassandra, "It's just... Simon said he was talking to an upperclassman, who apparently told him that you'd slept with half of his year group - "
"Let me guess. Neil Ward? That slimy little shithead's had it out for me since I refused to give him a free ride in my class," Cassie spits out, and her face curdles with contempt. "He had to re-take the whole semester, and the second time around he tried to proposition me – God only knows why, but I assume it was a misguided attempt to curry some favour. I told him I'd rather go home and play with my toys, because they'd give me a better ride than he ever could, and let's just say he's the type to bear a grudge."
For a moment, Rachel's brain is incapable of processing anything except the image of Cassandra and... toys... but then she forces herself to focus. "Cassie, I'm so sorry," she says, and her cheeks are burning with shame, "I didn't mean to imply - "
"That I'm slutty and amoral?" Cassie chips in, and Rachel regards her with doleful eyes.
"I'm just glad I'm not having to compete for your affections, that's all," she says, lightly.
"Jesus Christ, Schwimmer, would you like to piss on my leg and mark your territory?" Cassie retorts, and Rachel flinches a little, steeling herself for another reality check. She's waiting for Cassie to tell her that she doesn't have a monopoly on her time, or a claim to her heart, but Cassie just rolls her eyes, heading over to the stove.
"Dinner smells good," Rachel observes, in an obvious attempt to change the subject and make amends, "Can I do anything to help?"
"No, I've got it covered," Cassie assures her, deftly tossing the contents of the wok with a single flick of her wrist. A couple of minutes later, she sets a plate of steaming hot stir-fry onto the breakfast bar and passes Rachel a knife and fork. She doesn't even bother using place mats, and it's about as romantic as a TV dinner. Still, it doesn't negate the fact that Cassie actually went to the trouble of cooking for her, and Rachel eyes her food appreciatively.
"This is amazing," she enthuses, as soon as she's finished chewing her first mouthful, and Cassie snorts incredulously.
"It's not exactly haute cuisine, Schwimmer," she says, wryly, "And you don't have to sound so surprised. I told you, I'm perfectly capable of fending for myself."
"Well, Kurt and I have been living off pizza and pasta, so this makes a nice change. Thank you." Rachel reaches for Cassie's hand, but then thinks better of it, remembering how Cassie reacted the last time she tried to initiate contact. There's a moment of awkwardness as she tries to disguise her intentions, but when she finally summons the courage to meet Cassie's gaze, she sees amusement, not discomfort.
"Carmen Tibideaux called me into her office today," she blurts out, mostly just to make conversation, and Cassie sets down her fork, regarding her curiously.
"She must have heard it through the grapevine, then," Cassie surmises, and her expression is a little resentful, "I bet she just loves the idea of her great white hope being led astray by her biggest disappointment."
"Well, she did feel the need to warn me about the pitfalls of dating you," Rachel concedes, trying to keep her tone light, "And she made it clear that if it affects my performance, there will be consequences."
"Well, that's just... charming," Cassie says sarcastically, but for the barest fraction of a second, there's a wounded look in her eyes, "What did you say to her?"
"I kind of... yelled at her a bit for firing you, and then I told her she doesn't have the right to lecture me about who I see outside of school."
Cassie's lips twitch a little, and for a moment, Rachel just basks in the look of unbridled affection on her face.
"I would've loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation," Cassie admits, but then her expression shifts again. "You should have just told her what she wanted to hear. That it's over."
"But it's not, right?" Rachel asks, and it comes out sounding so much more desperate than she intended. "Over, I mean."
"Well, you're here, aren't you?" Cassie retorts, but her tone isn't reassuring, it's sharp and abrasive.
Rachel lapses into silence for a moment, picking at her food. When she meets Cassie's eyes, she can see that they're tinged with regret, but Cassie doesn't do apologies, and Rachel knows this is the best she can hope for.
"So, how did it go today?" she eventually asks, and Cassie offers her a small smile.
"A couple of people expressed an interest, but my phone hasn't exactly been ringing off the hook. It's pointless renting out a studio until I know people are actually going to turn up, so I'll just play it by ear for now." Cassie hesitates, picking up her napkin and twisting it in her hands. "I... uh... I managed to line up an interview for next week, though. At The Holden Academy. They're looking for someone to head up their Dance and Drama Department. The kids are younger – which doesn't exactly fill me with joy - but they're supposed to be pretty good, so..."
"That's great!" Rachel resists the urge to jump up and fling her arms around Cassie's neck, and settles for levelling her with a cheek-splitting smile instead. "They'll snap you up in a heartbeat, I just know it."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Schwimmer. I'm not... I'm not exactly renowned for being calm under pressure, and it's been a while since I had to put on my game face. I kind of..." she hesitates, casting a fleeting glance in Rachel's direction, "I kind of suck at interviews," she confesses, and Rachel's expression softens. She remembers Cassie's anecdote about her Bloody Mary-fuelled panic attack at 30,000 feet, and realises that maybe she isn't as self-assured as she seems.
"So we'll practice," she informs her resolutely, "I'll give you the third degree until you have an answer for everything."
Cassie laughs, but it isn't long before her smile starts to look a little strained.
"It's not going to make you happy, though, is it?" Rachel asks her softly, "Working there, I mean. You belong on the stage, not on the sidelines."
"Yeah, well, that's the problem with living in the real word, Schwimmer. You don't always get what you want," Cassie informs her acerbically, and her bitterness is back with a vengeance.
"Don't you think I know that?" Rachel fires back. "I didn't get into NYADA the first time I applied, you know?" she confesses quietly, and she can't help but feel vindicated by Cassie's surprised expression. "I went into the audition thinking I was invincible, and I choked. I sang the words in the wrong order, and then I forgot them completely."
"Anyone could crack under that kind of pressure," Cassie assures her, but Rachel shakes her head.
"Well, it was the first time it's ever happened to me. The funny thing is, I wasn't even nervous before I walked out on stage, but when I got up there and realised my entire future was hanging on that moment, I just... fell apart. The one time it really mattered, and I messed it up."
"Why do I get the feeling that this is about to turn into some kind of inspirational tale where you draw parallels between our life experiences?" Cassie asks wryly, "Because if you think fluffing an audition is comparable to watching your entire career go up in flames, then think again, kiddo."
"But that's what it felt like at the time," Rachel informs her defensively. "When Carmen Tibideaux walked away without having any idea of what I could do, I thought my life was over. I cried for a week, I didn't eat, or sleep; I was ready to resign myself to doing community theatre..."
Cassie bites her knuckles, but Rachel can see the empathy amidst her amusement.
"My point is, I know what it feels like to squander an opportunity; to think that you're never going to get another shot at your dreams - but if I'd given up back then, right now I'd be married to a boy who I used to think I was in love with, settling for so much... less... than what I wanted, and I'd be miserable."
"OK, wait a second. You were going to marry your childhood sweetheart?" Cassie asks her incredulously, "At the tender age of... eighteen? "
"At the time, I thought he was all I had left," Rachel admits, and it scares her now, to think how close she came to throwing her life away.
"Well, thank God you expanded your horizons, otherwise you'd probably be barefoot and pregnant by now," Cassie retorts, and Rachel narrows her eyes, kicking her under the table.
"Look, I'm glad things worked out for you, Schwimmer, I really am, but this isn't..." Cassie hesitates, and there's a faraway look in her eyes, "This isn't the same thing."
"Why not?" Rachel persists, "Why can't you just do what I did - harangue some casting directors until they agree to see you again, and then make sure they can't say 'no?'"
"Because I already told you, it doesn't work like that." Cassie snaps, and Rachel knows her well enough by now to recognise when she's overstepped the mark.
"OK, I'm sorry. I won't mention it again," she assures her, and then she stands up, retrieving the cake box from the counter. She cuts the pumpkin pie into medium-sized portions and then carries it over to the table, laying a plate in front of Cassie.
"Are you ready for some dessert?" she asks, gasping when she finds herself being pulled onto Cassie's lap. A pair of slender, but sturdy arms settle around her waist, and Rachel's eyelids flutter shut when Cassie's lips graze over the column of her neck.
"You could say that," Cassie says wryly, and there's a moment where they just gaze at each other, letting the anticipation build to breaking point. Then Cassie's hands cup her cheeks, and Rachel leans into the kiss, welcoming the hunger behind it.
"I like you so much better when you're not talking, Schwimmer," Cassie proclaims on the back of a sated sigh, pressing a kiss against Rachel's forehead before she rolls in the opposite direction. Rachel covers herself with the comforter and reaches for her clothes, turning away from Cassie so she won't see the tears that immediately spring to her eyes. She knows – or at least she hopes – Cassie's only joking, but a part of her is terrified that she isn't. Every time she thinks they're finally forging something meaningful, Cassie has to say something to ruin it all, and as incredible as the sex is, she's not sure how much longer she can pretend that she isn't yearning for something more. She knows that she's probably being too sensitive, that Cassie's said worse things to her in the past, but after everything that's transpired today, her defences have been whittled away to nothing, and it hurts more than it probably should.
"You don't have to go," Cassie hastens to reassure her, reaching for her hand, but Rachel can't speak, not when she's on the cusp of bursting into tears and making a complete fool out of herself, so she just shrugs a little.
"Hey..." Cassie finally seems to sense that there's something wrong, and she sits up, closing the distance between them. Rachel's only remaining defence is to duck her head and let her hair fall across her face, but Cassie tenderly brushes it aside.
"Rachel... look at me," Cassie coaxes softly, cupping her chin to initiate eye contact, and Rachel's tears finally spill over when she sees the mixture of concern and consternation on Cassie's face. "Oh, sweetie, you know I didn't mean that, right? I was just being an asshole, as per usual. I thought you'd be used to it by now," she teases, giving Rachel a gentle squeeze.
"I'm sorry." Rachel desperately tries to come up with an excuse for her reaction, because she doesn't want Cassie to think that she's fragile and immature, "Today just... really sucked, that's all."
"The last few hours notwithstanding, right?" Cassie clarifies with a smirk, and Rachel nods, managing a small smile.
She wants to say: please tell me you're not just using me, please tell me I'm not an idiot for falling in love with you, please tell me this isn't going to wind up hurting even more than saying goodbye to Finn at the train station, but she knows Cassie won't be able to handle her insecurities.
"I should go," she chokes out instead, but Cassie shakes her head.
"No. Come lie down with me," she urges, and Rachel hesitates for a second, before throwing her arms around Cassie's neck. She squeezes her eyes shut when Cassie envelops her in a warm embrace, and it feels like the first time all over again, when she was scared out of her mind after being attacked in that alleyway and Cassie made her feel safe and grounded and giddy all at the same time.
"Rachel, I..." Cassie hesitates, and Rachel holds her breath, because hearing Cassie speak her given name still does something primal to her, "Stay," she says quietly, and Rachel nods, nuzzling into her neck. It may not be exactly what she wants to hear, but at least she doesn't have to agonise over whether Cassie wants her around, and when she closes her eyes, she's smiling again.