A/N: Thank you guys for the reviews, follows and favs! They mean a lot to me :)

Also, to whoever posted that "most Quinntana fics go on hiatus before the sexy times, they're the least sexy couple in fanfic, and are into eternally delayed gratification"...

1) I won't be going on hiatus with this fic, 2) That's fine considering your opinion is your own, but why would you say that on a Quinntana fic then? (trolling? Haha), 3) and to be honest, I would more consider people into eternally delayed gratification as people who are actually going through eternally delayed gratification in their own sex lives, and take that frustration out by reading things that don't even appeal to them due to the aforementioned :P But, like I said, your opinion is your own, so, whatever floats your boat! :)

Anyways, to the rest of the reviewers, thank you for being understanding about the misery that is college, and your patience :) You guys are awesome.

Enjoy!

Chapter XXI

Quinn's POV

It was an exhausting trek. I kept getting my flip-flops stuck in the sand, so eventually I took them off and carried them. I wish I had thought to put them in the boat with Santana's, but we were far away now, so far that we had somehow rounded the beach and the boat was out of our line of vision. I caught Santana nervously glancing back over her shoulder, as though she were hoping the boat would be right behind us, or the driver would pop up.

Where was he? I didn't understand where he could have gone. The only other option was in the leafy expanse of wilderness to our right, the center of the island that looked more like a jungle. I was certain civilization was around here somewhere, because I'm sure there were hotels and resorts here as well, but I didn't know how far and I didn't want to risk getting lost in a jungle on an island I know nothing about. Hell, I hadn't even known an ocean could light up like it was glowing. I thought that was fictional Life of Pi stuff, not real. It was amazing, of course, but also a little thought invoking. What else was out there?

It didn't help that Santana was practically shivering with fear next to me. I knew she was trying her hardest not to show it, especially by the way her head was tilted up, her nose high in the air as though this entire island and everything on it were beneath her. But I saw the way her eyes were just a little too bright, and the slight tremble of her bottom lip. It pulled at the strings of my heart, to see her scared, and I wanted to still that trembling. It was fucked up how I wanted to still it by covering it with my own mouth, though. I would just pretend I didn't feel that urge.

"Quinn," said Santana, her voice thick with anxiety, and I followed her gaze, looking up at the sky. Dark clouds were steadily swirling across the sky, and the air was filling with a humidity that foretold heavy rain would soon arrive. The wind had kicked up, too, driving my chopping tresses to flick against my face with quick, stinging slaps. Santana's own long hair was wrapping around her neck and face, and she sputtered her tongue out, reaching up to pull it away from her mouth. "Fucking hell."

"It's okay," I assured her firmly, though my tone was gentle. "He said he only had a few things to pick up, and he'd be back. He's only a little late. I'm sure he's around here somewhere. We'll be back at the resort by the time the storm comes in."

"It's already in! It's about to pour down on us." She glanced up again.

She was right, to be honest. Soon, there would be too many clouds and we wouldn't even have the moon's light to help us see around. Fortunately the shoreline was still glowing in spots, but still. It made me a little uneasy, the possibility of being stuck on an island during a storm with absolutely no light to guide us. Nevertheless, as apprehensive as I was, I knew Santana had to be feeling worse.

"So, do you think Puck and Tina are going to have a thing now?" I asked, hoping to distract her.

She snorted, answering me though her eyes remained fixated on the clouds above. "They've been eye-fucking each other all night, so I wouldn't be surprised."

"They aren't the only ones who've been eye-fucking," I said easily, cursing myself when her dark eyes curiously shifted onto me. God, has she noticed how I stare at her? "Um. Sugar and Mike. Have you noticed?"

"Oh. God. Yes. She's been practically drooling." At the bonfire, Mike had taken his own shirt off and Sugar had wasted no time in oogling his admittedly well-defined muscles.

"You think Tina's pissed about it?"

Santana shrugged, and I was pleased to see she was now looking ahead instead of overhead as we walked. "I think she's too focused on getting her hands in that Puckhawk instead. Besides, we all knew she and Mike were doomed."

I sniggered. "Well, yeah. The first time they hooked up was in a bunk bed at the Asian camp they ran together for kids."

"Not wanky. Creepy," said Santana, her upper lip curling in disgust, and I laughed.

"At least he has some abs on him."

"True. The penis is a deal-breaker, though," she joked, and I laughed harder.

"Agreed," I chuckled, and then looked up when Santana's laughter ceased. "What?"

"What, dick is a deal-breaker for you?" she asked, her eyes wide on me. I thought she was mocking me for a moment. It wouldn't be the first time someone had called me a slut because I have a kid. Little did those people know I'd only slept with two guys, but I saw no need in correcting assholes; I shouldn't waste any time on them, after all.

Santana wasn't mocking me or insulting me, however. She was questioning my sexuality, and for the first time concerning it, I was actually honest.

"Yeah," I admitted, leaving it at that.

My confession hung in the air, and suddenly it was tense as we trudged on through the sand, so tense that I didn't know what to say, and apparently neither did she, as she remained silent.

I couldn't help but to feel relief, though. It was such a relief to finally admit aloud that dicks didn't appeal to me, that men didn't appeal to me. Women didn't either, which confused me, but at least I was aware that women were beautiful. Everything about men was unappealing to me, but at least I could enjoy looking at women, even if I wasn't attracted to them. I didn't understand what that said as to my sexuality—if you weren't straight and you weren't gay, then what were you?—but I could at least be honest about the fact that I was not attracted to men in the slightest.

In fact, the only person I had ever been attracted to was Santana. And that was what made my friendship with her so dangerous—what did that mean, after all? If she was the only person I'd ever been attracted to, and she was my best friend, could we really maintain a strictly platonic friendship? We had tried, once, and it had failed.

I cleared my throat, growing increasingly uncomfortable as we traipsed on. The more I thought about Santana and my attraction for her, the more hyper-aware I grew of her being right beside me, her arm linked with mine, her skin warm against me. My heart began to beat irregularly, and I shuddered under the onslaught of visions that sprang forth unbidden in my mind—old memories that had happened over two years ago, and never should have, but moments nonetheless that I couldn't seem to banish. Our first kiss at the bonfire. The heat in the gaze we'd shared at the bonfire earlier tonight. Our second kiss at my house over summer, in the pool. The way she drifted closer to me when we went swimming two nights ago. The first time I watched her undress. The way I wanted to undress her now—

"Stop."

I halted in my tracks at Santana's voice, jumping a little guiltily, as though she had read the direction my thoughts had taken. But when I turned around to face her, she was looking up at the sky again. "It's starting to rain!" she said, and the panic in her voice was intensified by the frustration in her eyes.

So it was. Droplets were falling scarcely, and I could feel the chill when they hit my skin. I remembered my cell phone in my pocket, and the dinghy boat resting in the sand. "Shit."

That just seemed to set the fuse. Santana dropped my arm and spun around, throwing her hands up and cursing in Spanish. I spoke her name loudly over her swearing to get her attention, and when that didn't work, I skirted around her to stand in front of her, and frame her face with my hands.

"Santana! San!"

My hands cupping her cheeks seemed to do the trick. She blinked, her eyes wild and wide as they focused on me. "It's going to be fine. This is not a big deal. Our driver has to be here somewhere. We will find him. There are a thousand people we can find who can help us if we can't. The storm is not here yet. It's barely sprinkling." I gazed intently into her dark eyes as I spoke, finding myself moving closer and closer unconsciously, as though proximity would help drill my words into her thick skull. "This is what we're going to do. We're going to keep walking and hurry to find somewhere we can go so we aren't caught in the rain. We're going to calm down. Okay?"

Mutely, Santana nodded. I lifted my brows, scrutinizing her to make sure she understood me. She appeared somewhat taken aback by my command of the situation. In a way, I was too.

In the past, she had always been the one to assume command in stressful situations. I was always so careful to create this cold exterior that, when it was just the two of us and I was faced with a precarious situation that drove me to my breaking point, I would fall into a self-destructive panic. Santana would always step in, calm me down and help me deal. But it was different now; we were different people. Becoming a mother had given me a newfound sense of responsibility that I never would have gained otherwise, at least not for quite some time, anyway. Now I was in charge, I was the one keeping my cool and dealing rationally, I was the one calming her down. Somehow, in this new friendship, certain roles we used to have had been reversed. It was bizarre, almost unnatural, but refreshing at the same time. I was in charge. I would take care of her. And everything would be fine.

I looked into her eyes for a second longer to make sure she understood. Our faces were so close that the tips of our noses were brushing together as we breathed. My heart thudded in my chest, and my lips tingled as an ache stretched forth in the pit of my belly. Everything in me, every single particle that comprised my being, urged me to kiss her. To taste her, to taste an incredible, exquisite taste I had craved for the past two years like an alcoholic craves a glass of rich wine.

But she was my friend. If I shouldn't have kissed her before, I definitely shouldn't kiss her now. It would be the equivalent of owning something precious and perfect, dropping it and leaving it shattered for two years, then picking it up, brushing the dust off and carefully gluing the pieces together before you threw it in the air and hoped it wouldn't fall. Gravity existed. The fall was inevitable.

So I couldn't let myself feel like this.

I ushered her on and we walked along the shore for another five minutes before the rain started falling harder. It wasn't pouring yet, but soon my pockets would soak through and my phone would be ruined.

"For fuck's sake," I said, frustrated. I pushed my damp hair out of my face and glared around me, seeing nothing but a choppy ocean horizon and a light canopy of leafy trees. I shivered as the wind whistled and chilly ocean spray landed on my exposed skin.

"You're cold," noted Santana. She shook her head, gripping me above my elbow and steering me forward. "We need to find somewhere to go."

"Where? The nearest resort is like a mile away."

"I don't know. Lets get under a tree or something at least to get out of this rain," she said, tugging me toward the jungle area now.

"Santana, those are palm trees," I pointed out, but she only shook her head again, continuing to drag me onward. Huffing, I pulled my arm out of her grip and instead clutched her clammy hand, more to just keep hold of her than to calm her down.

We weaved our way through various trees, boulders, and abundant expanses of sandy bushes, searching for some level of release from the rain. I held Santana's hand in my right and used my other hand to curve under my shirt, holding my phone as beneath my body as I could. This was only a cheap go-phone, but I still didn't have the money to buy a new one.

"There!" Santana was pointing toward what appeared to be a wall of rock that extended upward higher than the palm trees, curving into a sheer precipice. It wasn't a cave; it was more like a big rock that managed to slant just enough to block some of the rain. It was good enough for me.

Santana and I made a break for it. We laughed nearly hysterically when she landed a foot in a puddle of water, kicking it up and yelping at the coolness of it. Her entire right jean leg was now beyond soaking wet, but the sight of her stumbling and shrieking when she ran through it was funny enough that I couldn't keep myself from pointing and laughing.

"Shut up!" She laughed, digging at me with an elbow as we huddled together under the small rock face.

"Or what?" I joked, checking my phone to make sure it wasn't damaged. It was good, so I slipped it into my back pocket, which fortunately wasn't too wet.

"Or I'll kick your ass and throw you into the rain," she warned, but the smile she gave me softened her words.

"God, don't do that." We had made it under the cliff just in time; rain had started to pour down with an angry fervor. "I'm freezing enough as it is."

"Come here." She gestured for me to scuttle closer to her with a lilt of her chin, and I noticed her teeth were slightly chattering. Despite the humidity here, the rain was cold and the ocean breeze was startlingly frigid. I stepped to her, and then we leaned into each other, our elbows still tucked into our own sides while our arms wrapped around one another's waists. She placed her chin on my left shoulder the same time I placed mine on hers, and I could hear her breathing pattern rising and falling rapidly, could feel the heat of it against my neck and ear.

After a couple minutes, we were warming up. Our breathing had calmed, and it was almost peaceful now, standing here under this rock while the rain raged outside. I could feel her heart beating slowly against my chest, could feel her breasts warm and soft pressed up against mine. It gave me a twinge that I felt in the apex between my thighs, and set my heart off again while my breathing pattern was disrupted. All at once, I was overtly aware. Of everything.

I wondered if she could feel my heart beating so irregularly against her own, which seemed so calm and serene in comparison. She was probably feeling cozy and warm standing with me, and here I was, imagining what it would feel like to push her back against the stone wall and slide my hand between her legs.

Shit, I shouldn't be thinking like that. What was I doing? Two weeks of being her friend again, after two years of hating her, and I couldn't stop thinking about her naked underneath me. Naked on top of me. Naked anywhere, any way with me.

God.

Her hair was soft against my nose, and smelled like a mixture of ocean and lavender. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply and unconsciously splayed my grip open wider on her waist, clutched her tighter to me. I heard the slight intake of her breath and felt it resonate within me.

This was my best friend, regardless of how things had been between us before. I had grown up with her. Spent my childhood bicycling around the neighborhood with her, wading barefoot through the creek searching for crayfish with her, snuck into Fran's room to try on her training bras with her, had crazy dancing slumber parties that involved dancing to Backstreet Boys and NSYNC with her, schemed over the definition of sex and naughty things with her. When we talked about kissing, we spoke about boys, but our gazes would linger on one another a moment too long. As we grew older, the gazes would grow longer and more intense. Kisses turned into sex discussions. Bravado turned into challenges that neither of us dared attempt, though we definitely talked the talk. When she said she thought she was gay and started dating a couple different girls, started having sex, our conversations about sex changed from joking around to almost downright offensive. I can't even count the amount of times she mocked my sex life and said a girl could give me more orgasms in one day than a boy could in one year. I acted as though I didn't believe her and joked back just as scornfully, but it rubbed me the wrong way. If she was going to brag so much, she might as well back it up, right? And then I would realize that was a totally fucked up thing to think about a friend, and I would chastise myself every time I thought it.

And now, here we were. How things have changed between us.

I couldn't have stopped myself even if I tried. It was like some otherworldly force was controlling my movements. My head turned with no conscious effort by me. My nose pressed into her cheek as I softly but fully pressed my lips onto hers.

I felt her go rigid in my arms, felt her lashes tickle mine as her eyes flew open. I resolutely kept mine closed, focusing desperately on the sensation of mouth against mouth, of how soft her lips felt beneath mine, of how perfectly they fit together. Of how this was the first kiss I'd had in nearly two years, and the loneliness was worth this. If I had to go decades without any human contact to get another kiss like this, then it was worth it. And the crazy thing was, it was hardly a kiss. Our mouths were pressed together, my hands clutching her waist while hers had went stiff at my sides. We weren't moving, and it lasted hardly three seconds. But those three seconds had burned me brighter than anything else had in my entire life, burning me just as much as they did two years ago when we had our very last kiss in Santana's bedroom before our epic fight ensued.

Time was suspended for those three seconds. My heart felt as though it had stopped beating. I didn't even breathe. I just stood there, wrapped up in her, my heart aching and my body trembling. More. I wanted more.

Then she ripped out of my grasp and stumbled back, pebbles clattering away from her bare feet. "What the—what the fucking hell was that?" she gasped, her hand jumping up to cover her mouth with quivering fingertips. Her eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them, swallowing her face whole. "I just—you just—what the fuck?" Rage flooded into her now, and she dropped her arm, her hand balling up into a white-knuckled fist. Her lower lip trembled before she tucked it into a thin, furious line, appearing angrier than I'd ever seen her as she stared at me. I was speechless. I had no idea what just happened.

Without another word, Santana spun on her heel and marched out, into rain that was pouring down so hard it was difficult to see through.

I watched her go, my chest heaving and my mouth open in shock. What did I just do?