By a little past 11pm the Puckerman residence was a messy house full of even messier teenagers. Rachel had been there for about an hour and a half and so far Quinn had yet to make an appearance.
Finn seemed to be having a ball, playing beer pong with Puck and Mike. Santana and Brittany had snuck off somewhere half an hour ago and the rest of the Gleeks mingled with other party goers.
Rachel's head turned to the door as she heard it slam again. A random girl walked through and chastising herself for even caring, the diva turned back to her soda.
1 Hour Later:
When Rachel spotted Quinn at the party, her jaw dropped. The HBIC was confidently walking straight towards the Gleeks and Rachel quickly noticed she wasn't the only one interested by Quinn's arrival. Whomever she passed, heads turned to watch Quinn Fabray walk by.
The blonde wore a tight, black dress that could barely be considered decent. Four inch heels made the Cheerio's legs look particularly spectacular, aided by the fact that her dress finished at her upper thighs. If one could break gaze from the blonde's shapely legs and smoothly flexing thigh and calf muscles long enough, then they would surely notice what the rest of the dress emphasised. Her breasts looked perfectly round and raised with a good amount of cleavage displayed by the strapless dress. Quinn's blonde hair was loosely tousled and fell about her shoulders in such a manner that could only be described as 'just fucked'...and her lips, were painted blood red, hiding a row of perfect white teeth.
Although she noticed all of this, Rachel's focus was glued to the other girl's eyes, eyes she hadn't seen in nearly a week. The HBIC's black eyeliner was heavier than the amount the girl normally applied, her eye-shadow was smokey and lashes curled with mascara.
But the blonde's dark gaze looked cold. Empty.
As Quinn walked towards them, the embodiment of 'sex on legs', Rachel could see how much the blonde was hurting as clearly as if she had a fatal wound in the middle of her chest and was slowly bleeding out with every deliberate step she took.
"Hey there, Quinn," Puck saddled up beside the blonde, beer pong forgotten. His eyes raking over her form appreciatively.
"Puck," Quinn acknowledged.
Rachel immediately felt a spark of irritation towards the boy.
"So what are we drinking?" Quinn asked, still avoiding eye contact with the diva.
"Vodka, tequila or Midori?" Santana offered.
"Why choose?" Quinn filled up three shot glasses with each spirit and slammed them all.
"Damn! Slow down, girl!"
Quinn turned to Mercedes smirking, eyes spilling over with unsaid promise.
The dark girl blushed slightly and excused herself with the excuse of finding Kurt.
The HBIC shrugged. Drawing her attention back to the group, Quinn noted airily, "I finished my drinks..."
Puck immediately jumped and poured her a lemonade and vodka. She smiled flirtatiously at him and muttered her "thanks," lightly touching his bicep.
Rachel watched all of this with a frown and annoyed confusion. Snapped out of her thoughts by Finn's arm around her shoulders, the diva smiled up at him.
"—all I'm saying is that I'd go Quinn over Finn any day of the week...preferably every day of the week—"
Mercedes smacked the back of Puck's head.
"Ouch," the Mohawked boy grumbled.
"Quinn does look fabulous tonight," Kurt agreed. "Her shoes are simply to die for, and that dress!"
Mercedes glanced at the blonde of the hour and couldn't help but notice an angry little diva sitting moodily on the couch, while Finn was talking about football plays with Artie.
Mercedes nudged Kurt and gave Puck a pointed look, jerking her head towards the diva.
Puck smirked as he watched the seething diva, "looks like my little Jewish Princess is none too happy about Nick getting up all on Quinn."
Kurt nodded quickly, "I think you might want to rethink your bet, Mercedes."
An hour or so later Rachel sat glowering on the couch. The pissed off pint-sized diva sat glaring at a couple across the room. Across the room, on the dance floor, was some brown haired boy with broad shoulders and pathetic dance moves with his hands all over Quinn. The girl in question was flush against him, grinding in time with the beat. Eyes closed and head tilted back, the HBIC was drunk.
Rachel just about twitched when the jock lowered his hands to squeeze Quinn's arse, smirking at his airheaded friends over the cheerleader's shoulder. When he began thrusting crudely against the blonde's hip and kissing her messily however, Rachel stood abruptly.
"That's it!" she seethed. Marching determinedly across the room the diva yanked the girl's arm and pulled her away from her muscular dance partner.
"Quinn, a word please," Rachel hissed, already dragging her off into one of the unused bedrooms.
"Hey!" the boy yelled.
"Fuck off!" Rachel shot back, fire shooting from her eyes and teeth bared in a snarl.
Slamming and locking the bedroom door Rachel took a few deep breathes.
"Ooooooh," the blonde giggled, "Rachel swore!"
Rachel turned around slowly, still livid, to face Quinn.
"What the hell are you doing, Quinn?"
"What?" Quinn asked innocently, looking up at Rachel from her seat on the edge of the bed.
"What? What? You know what! I don't even know where to being," the diva began pacing. "First, you drinking yourself to an early grave! Second, you dancing with some stupid boy you don't even know, and letting him put his hands all over you! And third, you're practically dressed like a hooker!" Rachel screeched, throwing her hands up.
With surprising speed for someone so heavily intoxicated, Quinn shot up from the bed and roughly pinned Rachel to the wall by her wrists.
"Don't you like my new look, Rach?" Quinn purred, her prominent chest eye-level with the flushed diva, courtesy of her heels.
Rachel glared up at the blonde.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly. "You're worth more than this, you deserve more—"
Quinn barked a laugh and released the diva, pushing off the wall roughly. She stalked over to the other side of the room. "Oh but apparently I don't. Turns out, this is exactly what I deserve."
"What are you talking abou—"
"It's all I have to offer!" the blonde screamed.
Rachel froze, eyes wide, and waited for her to continue.
"I offered you my heart, don't you get that? But you didn't want it. I would have done anything for you, been anything, given you anything! But no, you wanted Finn, of course you did. My body, it seems, is the only good thing I have to offer. The only thing I'm worth, the only valuable thing I have to give and definitely the only thing people want."
Rachel's heart cracked as she listened to the girl speak, as she watched the once whole, confident Cheerio shatter and crumble in front of her.
"Quinn..." she said weakly, approaching the girl.
"Don't!" Quinn snapped, stopping the diva with a raised hand. "You made your choice, you chose Finn. And you don't get to pretend like you care about me or that you're some big martyr, upset when I'm hurt or like you even give a fuck about how I feel, as long as your world stays the same and makes guilt-free fucking sense to you!"
Rachel stood in the centre of the room, for once silent as she let the blonde say all she needed to with no input except the silent tears that dripped down the diva's cheeks and fell onto the carpet.
"Don't try to fucking pretend like nothing's changed when it has...it might not have for you, but it did for me!"
Having said her piece Quinn took a shuddering breath and raised her head defiantly. Hastily whipping away some running eyeliner, the HBIC walked out of the bedroom and let the door slam shut behind her.
AN: what you all expected? :P