A/N: Happy Thursday, everyone! Having reached chapter 52 means I've been writing this story for over a year now, so I celebrated last weekend by heading to NYC to catch The Submission. For the record, Jonathan Groff is the sweetest, most genuine celebrity I've ever met. :)

A few things to note...

Shelby has no clue that Jesse will be transferring to either Tisch or Juilliard in the fall.

Azimio's last name is apparently Adams, according to this great article I came across that reveals Brad Falchuk's penchant for naming his characters after people he knew in high school.

I'm well aware that the wheels of justice would never move as fast as I've written them doing, but I wanted closure on Dave and Azimio's part of the story, so I sped things up a fair bit.

While I realize that Dustin Goolsby was a rather inept co-conspirator in Sue's Legion of Doom, I've allowed him to have more smarts here. I like to think it's because Shelby's a better leader than Sue is. ;)

Many thanks to bandtogetherandfight for her invaluable feedback on part of this chapter.

As always, I love hearing your thoughts and opinions. The biggest drawback to not posting last week? My inbox was awfully quiet...


Someone to Love You – Chapter 52

Dave Karofsky was not just scared. He was terrified. His fingers tugged at his shirt collar, trying vainly to loosen the uncomfortably tight fabric without undoing the top button – an action his father had expressly forbidden. In the car on the way to the courthouse, Paul had repeatedly expressed his regret at his son's behaviour, while offering stern advice that Dave knew he had no choice but to follow if he entertained any hope at all of salvaging something from a situation that had spiralled so terribly out of control.

From the moment four days ago when Coach Beiste had uttered her pronouncement that he and Azimio were in serious trouble, things had gone from bad to worse. He'd quickly come to the realization that any efforts aimed at restoring his damaged reputation would have to wait. He had much larger concerns now.

He'd listened in abject horror while his former coach explained that an anonymous witness had come forward, placing him and his best friend at the scene of Finn Hudson's beating. Although the incident had not taken place on school property, she'd been compelled both by her position of authority and her duty as a conscientious citizen to report what she'd been told to the police. With the matter left in their capable hands, she'd then notified the man whose office they currently occupied. Taking charge of the meeting and looking each boy squarely in the eye, Principal Figgins had regretfully, but firmly, informed the duo that school board policy set out clear consequences in situations such as theirs. No matter what his personal feelings might be, his hands were tied. They were expelled, effective immediately.

Dave recalled, in minute detail, the reception he had received when he arrived home a short while later. Any belief he had harboured that he could sweep this all under the rug was effectively dashed by the sight of both his parents' cars in the driveway. If they were missing work to deal with him, they were obviously taking this very seriously.

His mother was on him the instant he walked through the door, berating him loudly for conducting himself in a manner that was an embarrassment to the family's good name, and questioning his utter lack of judgment. Her tirade had seemed to go on forever, until she'd finally hurled every recrimination she could think of at him and proceeded to storm out of the room. Left alone with his father, Dave knew that the worst was yet to come. He'd always found it easy to tune his mother out. She was hot-tempered and tended to lash out at him verbally, but her words seldom managed to pierce the tough outer shell he'd built up through his years spent dealing with football pranks and macho hockey rituals. His dad, on the other hand… Paul's opinion mattered to him, and there was no getting around the fact that he had screwed up royally this time. His father's disappointment was palpable, and Dave's gut clenched in response.

Ever the practical man, once he'd expressed his displeasure with Dave's actions and accepted the latter's apology, Paul moved on to more important matters – figuring out what his son might be charged with, and putting a strategy in place to deal with whatever the fallout might be.

That preparation was proving invaluable now. In just a few minutes, Dave would be standing before a judge, facing assault charges. Thankfully, he'd be doing it with a high-priced lawyer by his side, his dad having called in a favour from one of his own hockey buddies. As the man had bluntly informed him, much would depend on which judge was assigned to the case, but the best he could hope for was probation, combined with community service. And the worst? Well, that didn't bear thinking about.

Entering the large, forbidding room, Dave immediately spotted Azimio seated with his father in the front row, and he made his way to his friend's side. The two older men, who shared a passing acquaintance from having been involved in various sports-related fundraising activities, spoke quietly to each other as their sons did the same.

"Hey, man. How've you been?" Azimio asked by way of greeting.

"How do you think? My mother took away all my electronics, and she's been forcing me to do all kinds of chores around the house, 'in case the judge fails to make an example' of me."

"Shit, man, that's harsh. My mom's just been bawling her eyes out, going on and on about how I've ruined my life. Thank God my dad understands. He was in trouble a lot himself growing up, and he owns a successful business now, so he knows I can come out of this okay."

"Yeah, my dad's been a lot easier to deal with, except for the constant lectures about how much I've disappointed him."

"I've been getting those, too. I could probably recite the damn things by heart."

The boys' conversation was interrupted by their respective lawyers, who led them to the defendants' table. As the presiding judge took her seat, Dave heard the man beside him utter a muffled curse. Clearly, he needed to brace himself for that worst case scenario he'd been avoiding.

In what seemed no time at all, the judge had reviewed the evidence – Ms. Pillsbury-Howell's statement had been particularly damning, but Coach Beiste hadn't spared her former players, either – and, combined with a couple of anonymous tips and a neighbour of Finn's placing the two boys at the scene, there was ample proof of their guilt. Citing the importance of zero tolerance, the judge was poised to render her disposition in the case when both lawyers asked that they be allowed to approach the bench. With permission granted, Dave and Azimio glanced at each other questioningly, neither of them having any idea as to what was about to take place. It took only a moment for them to find out. As they rose to learn their fate, they put on brave faces, masking the nervousness each was presently feeling.

"Mr. Karofsky and Mr. Adams, you have both been found guilty of assault. Although my original intent was to sentence you to two months in a residential facility, your lawyers have each offered a suggestion, courtesy of your parents, that meets with my approval, as well as that of the State. Mr. Karofsky, beginning today, you will be entrusted to the custody of your paternal grandparents, who I understand run a dairy farming operation just outside of Dunkirk. For the remainder of the school year, you will be expected to pull your weight there in whatever capacity your grandparents deem appropriate. You will attend the district high school, unless you find yourself in trouble there, as well, in which case your new guardians have agreed to home school you. You are being given a second chance, young man. If I find that you have violated these terms, you will not be so lucky next time. Is all of this clear, Mr. Karofsky?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dave responded glumly.

"As for you, Mr. Adams, you will be transferring to the Mound Street Military Academy in Dayton, effective immediately. Your uncle, who I understand is a resident of that city, has agreed to become your guardian."

Azimio couldn't stifle a gasp. He turned towards his father and began to plead with him, desperate to avoid what he considered an overly harsh punishment. Shaking his head, the elder Adams led his son swiftly out of the courtroom, pointedly ignoring all entreaties. For his part, Dave breathed a sigh of relief. Compared to the sentence meted out to his friend, his seemed tolerable – welcome, even. Not only would it get him away from McKinley at what had promised to be a particularly difficult juncture, but it would allow him to start over in a place where no one really knew him. Maybe, at his new school, he could finally be himself, without others' expectations weighing on him and forcing him into the jock straightjacket he'd felt suffocated by for the past few years. Besides, although his grandparents were strict, they were also fair. The results of this debacle could have been far worse.

Dave was drawn from his thoughts by the feel of his father's hand on his shoulder. Looking up at the man standing behind him, Dave managed a tremulous smile.

"Thanks for going to bat for me, Dad."

"You're welcome. But you should really be thanking Scott. He was the one who suggested the judge might accept having your grandparents as temporary guardians. And thank them, too, when you get to the farm. They didn't have to agree to take you in, but they did. Take this opportunity to pull yourself together and deal with your issues, whatever they are."

"I will. I promise."


There was still half an hour left before the official end of the school day, but absolutely no one at McKinley High was doing the slightest bit of work. With their two week break just minutes away, everyone was chatting excitedly about their plans for the upcoming holidays.

Off in her own little corner of the classroom, Rachel couldn't keep the smile from her face as she contemplated all the wonderful events that would be taking place over the course of the weekend. As soon as she left school, she'd be meeting up with Grace and Amy, who'd offered to take her out for a little pre-birthday treat at the Last Bite. On Saturday, she'd be jetting to New York City to see Wicked, thanks to her fathers' generosity. And on Sunday, she'd be reunited with Jesse, in what she was positive would be the best birthday celebration she'd ever experienced in her life. As she gathered up her books and binders, hoping to make as quick a getaway as possible, she was startled by the sudden muted buzz of her phone. Retrieving it from her pocket, she cast a cursory glance at the screen. Having assumed the incoming text to be from her boyfriend, her eyes widened at the totally unexpected name that had popped up instead. She'd just received a message from Dustin Goolsby.

What did the current coach of Vocal Adrenaline want with her? More importantly, how had he gotten her number? The answer to the latter question came to her in a flash of insight. Shelby. In that brief moment of time when she'd believed she and her newly-found birth mother might form some kind of bond, she'd programmed her contact information into Shelby's cell. If Coach Goolsby had sought to reach out to her for whatever inexplicable reason, he'd merely needed to ask the woman he'd replaced.

Intensely curious in spite of her inner misgivings, she opened the text and quickly scanned its contents. It was concise, and to the point.

Call me. 3:45 today.

He'd concluded with his phone number. No pleading. No real attempt at persuasion. Just a straightforward demand that he clearly presumed she'd find too intriguing to ignore. And he was right. While she might not trust him, she had to admit that she was dying to know what had prompted his overture.

The instant the bell rang, she was out of the room like a shot. After a brief stop at her locker to grab her coat and bag, she jogged across the parking lot and eased herself into the driver's seat of her car at precisely 3:44. A sense of hesitancy suddenly began creeping its way up her spine, but she pushed it down, determined to see the matter through. Punching in the correct digits, she heard the connection being made, and leaned back in her seat to await his answer. After only one ring, a smooth voice echoed in her ear.

"Dustin Goolsby here."

"Mr. Goolsby, it's Rachel Berry."

"Hello, Rachel. There really is a lovely pitch to your voice. Do you sound this good when you sing?" he wondered aloud, temporarily throwing her off track. She recovered quickly.

"Better," she assured him matter-of-factly.

"That's Vocal Adrenaline's loss, then."

"It is. But I'm sure you didn't call to talk about my voice."

"Well, actually, I did. In a roundabout way, that is."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Let me explain it to you, then. Your mother…"

She cut him off abruptly.

"I'd prefer you call her by her name. She gave birth to me. That doesn't make her my mother."

"Fair enough. Shelby asked me for a favour a couple of weeks ago."

"Why are you telling me?"

"Because it was about you."

"Let me guess. She wanted you to invite me to leave McKinley and transfer to Carmel, and you were supposed to dangle a guaranteed spot on Vocal Adrenaline – probably the female lead – as the bait."

"We discussed that, but she ultimately decided you wouldn't go for it. So, no, that wasn't it."

"It wasn't?" Rachel couldn't hide her genuine surprise at Goolsby's words.

"Nope. Something a lot more interesting, I'm sure you'll agree."

"I'm listening."

"Have you heard of La Guardia Arts?"

"Heard of it? I idolize it. If I lived in Manhattan, I'd have begged my dads to let me audition for a spot there."

"I can make that happen."

"I'm sorry," Rachel found herself apologizing once again for her failure to follow Dustin's line of thought. "What are you saying?"

"The school's principal is a close personal friend of mine, which Shelby was aware of. She wanted me to pull a few strings. Get you an audition. Which I did."

"But… I've read all about the place. They don't accept incoming seniors."

"Have I mentioned that the principal is a close personal friend?"

"You have. I just can't even imagine how close you'd need to be for her to consider breaking the rules for me."

"Let's just say she owes me one, and leave it at that."

"So, have I heard you right? This isn't all just talk? You've really scored me an audition to the Fame school?"

"I have. And it's tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she squeaked, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

"Yeah. I realize that it's last minute, but here's the great part. I arranged it so you can do it through Skype. I mean, once Shelby reminded me that you couldn't very well just fly off to New York at a moment's notice…"

"Actually, through a lucky coincidence, it turns out I'm going to be in New York tomorrow."

"Seriously? This must be fate, then. Could you make it there for two o'clock?"

"My flight is due in at noon, so two o'clock sounds workable."

"Great. Well, my part in this is done. Break a leg, kid."

"Thanks." A new thought occurred to her, and she called out to stop him from hanging up. "What about permission? Doesn't the application require a signed consent form? And some kind of audition fee?"

"Not to worry. Your moth…" He corrected himself before Rachel could object again. "Shelby took care of all that. You just have to show up and wow them."

"I, uh, don't know what to say."

"You've already thanked me, so there's really nothing else. Except… don't screw this up, okay? I put my reputation on the line for you based on Shelby's assessment of your talent. I sincerely hope she didn't oversell your abilities based on some pathetic 'wanting you to like her' crap."

Without warning, Rachel launched into an impromptu rendition of Don't Cry for Me, Argentina. When she'd finished, Dustin's low whistle left no doubt as to his view of her performance.

"Are you sure I can't persuade you to join Vocal Adrenaline? There's no one on the team who even comes close to matching your talent," he admitted regretfully.

Rachel couldn't keep the self-satisfied smile from her face at the rival coach's praise. It pleased her to no end that he so obviously considered her superior to Sunshine Corazon. Maybe sending the exchange student to that crack house hadn't really been necessary after all. Then again, the Carmel team rewarded ability. Mr. Schue and New Directions were an entirely different matter. Still, with the prospect of a New York school being dangled in front of her, Carmel wasn't even on her radar at this point.

"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Goolsby, but my answer is no. Thanks for the compliment, though."

"I should tell you that I rarely offer praise of any kind. You're one of the few people who've managed to impress me, which is almost impossible to do. I predict you'll go far, Rachel Berry."

After she'd thanked him once more, she disconnected the call and sat in stunned silence, attempting to process this latest development. She'd just been given the chance to audition for one of the most prestigious arts high schools in the country - an opportunity she'd only been afforded due to the woman who'd suddenly decided she'd made a mistake by rejecting her earlier and now wanted to be a part of her life. She had to admit, Shelby was definitely making good on her vow to do whatever it took to get back into her daughter's good graces. And, while Rachel wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that, she had to admit that this particular gesture had earned her biological mother a whole lot of brownie points.

La Guardia Arts. Rachel could barely contain her excitement. If she nailed this, she might soon be attending a school where, instead of making her an outcast, her ambition and drive would be accepted. Not to mention the fact that she'd be in New York, with the boy she loved so deeply.

Hold on a minute, a small voice rose up in protest. Your dads have made it perfectly clear that living with Jesse, or even on your own, in New York, was not an option they'd be willing to consider.

With a shake of her head, she dismissed her negative thoughts. First things first. Before anything else happened, she had to knock them out with her audition. If she was successful, then she could figure out a way to persuade her parents to let her do it when the time came. She was their pride and joy, after all. Surely they'd come around to seeing things her way.

As she began to formulate a plan of action for the following day, she steered her car out of the McKinley parking lot and headed in the direction of the Last Bite, the smile never leaving her face.


Amy and Grace entered the cafe and scanned their surroundings. When they were positive that Rachel had not yet arrived, Amy pulled out her cell and punched in the number that would connect her to the Berry household.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Berry? It's Amy Howell."

"Hi, Amy. Is Rachel there yet?"

"No, but we expect her any minute. How long do you need us to keep her here?"

"Well, let's see," Leroy thought aloud. "Everyone but Noah and his girlfriend are here already, so I don't see that you have to drag it out at all. Have one drink once she arrives, then invent some excuse to leave. As long as you take that alternate route we discussed, you should make it here before she does."

"Sounds good. Either Grace or I will call to let you know we're on our way."

"Great! See you soon."

Just as Amy tossed her phone back into her purse, Grace nudged her cousin, who looked over to the entrance in time to spot Rachel walking in. Both Howells rose from their seats and took turns enveloping their friend in a warm hug.

"We're so happy you could make it," Amy enthused. "It's been too long."

"I agree. I was thrilled when you suggested getting together for an early birthday celebration. It means so much to me that you remembered."

"Uh, why wouldn't we?" Grace queried, genuine puzzlement on her face.

"Let's just say that it hasn't been my experience in the past," Rachel admitted softly.

"Then you obviously were in need of a better class of friend," Amy declared. "Lucky for you we came along."

"I completely agree," Rachel stated, hugging each girl again before easing herself into the nearest chair and letting a contented sigh escape her.

"I'll bet I know what's – or should I say who's – on your mind right now," Grace teased.

A light blush rose to Rachel's cheeks at her friend's words, but she didn't refute the assumption.

"The next two weeks are going to be so amazing," she gushed. "I start my birthday weekend with you guys, get to see Wicked tomorrow, then celebrate with Jesse on Sunday. Plus there's your uncle's reception, and New Year's Eve… Not to mention a nice, long break from Mr. Schue and Glee Club. Maybe he'll finally decide to start working on a set list over the holidays," she added, a note of sarcasm in her voice.

"I'm not surprised you don't want to be there these days," Amy remarked. "I'm just surprised that it took you this long to reach that conclusion."

"I'm not a quitter," Rachel began, "and I've felt a sense of responsibility for the club ever since I got Mr. Ryerson fired. I was willing to take a lot of abuse from my teammates, because I thought it was the only way to get them to stick around, and I wanted this all to work. But I've finally come to believe that I deserve better. Most of them treat me horribly, and that vote to oust me was the last straw. I won't bail on them completely, but until they get serious about practicing for Regionals, I'll likely skip more rehearsals."

"About time you stood up for yourself with that bunch," Grace nodded in approval.

As they sipped their lattes, conversation flowed easily between the trio. In what seemed no time at all, Grace and Amy admitted regretfully that they were needed to help with preparations for Sunday's big event. Once they'd exchanged goodbyes, Amy deliberately headed towards Carl's place until she and Grace were sure they were out of Rachel's sight. Executing a smooth U-turn, the elder Howell accelerated quickly, deftly navigating the agreed upon shortcut to the Berry residence.


Rachel was in no particular hurry. The implications of the opportunity Dustin Goolsby had presented her with earlier that day were swirling through her mind, and since she had no intention of divulging this incredible piece of news to her dads just yet, she needed to get her emotions under control before she arrived home.

Normally, she would have called Jesse immediately to get his input on this latest development, but for some reason that she couldn't quite put her finger on, she'd hesitated earlier, and now, she was positive she wanted to wait to tell him all about it. She knew he would be encouraging, and he would no doubt have valuable insight as to how she should present herself and what piece she should audition with, but there was a part of her that wanted – no, needed – to do this on her own. She wouldn't admit this to anyone, but her teammates' constant putdowns, along with Mr. Schue's dismissal of her ideas and his devaluing of her talent, had sapped her confidence. Yes, Jesse's unconditional love and support had gone a long way towards restoring her self-assurance, but it was vital that she prove to herself that she was capable of succeeding on her own merits. If she did, it would open up a world of possibilities, giving her a chance to escape Ohio… to start living her New York dream… and to spend as much time as possible with the person she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was the one great love of her life.

Consumed with thoughts of what awaited her the following day, she pulled into her driveway oblivious to the fact that several cars she would ordinarily have recognized were parked at her neighbours', as well as down the block. Grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder, she trudged slowly up the walkway, inwardly debating song selections – and completely missing the slight motion as the front curtain, which had been drawn aside, fell soundlessly back into place.


"She's here," Hiram stage-whispered, as he watched his daughter approach the front porch. "Everybody take cover!"

The invited guests all did as they were told, darting behind doors and crouching behind furniture. An expectant silence descended as they collectively held their breath, waiting for Rachel to make her entrance. As she pushed open the door, her father moved forward to greet her.

"Hi, sweetie. How was your day? Did you have fun with Grace and Amy?"

"Hi, Daddy. It was great to see them again. We got caught up on all our news, and you'll never guess what they've got planned for their uncle's reception."

"I probably won't. Why don't we have a seat in the living room, and you can give me a full report."

"Uh, okay," she responded, a small crease appearing between her brows at her father's sudden formality.

She'd barely taken a step into the room when it erupted in a loud chorus of "Surprise!", as ten people jumped out from their various hiding places and rushed to encircle the astounded birthday girl, whose eyes suddenly glistened with unshed tears. Blinking rapidly, she glanced around at the smiling faces that surrounded her, acknowledging each one in turn. When her gaze fell on Amy and Grace, she assumed an air of mock outrage.

"You tricked me!"

Grace's expression was one of complete innocence, while Amy's answering smile was smug.

"And we did an excellent job of it, if I do say so myself."

"You did," Rachel admitted. "I never suspected a thing."

Turning to her fathers, she scrutinized each one carefully, attempting to determine which of them was responsible for this entirely unexpected, but utterly joyful event. Conscious of her unspoken question, they shook their heads in response.

"Not my idea," Leroy assured her.

"Mine either," Hiram confirmed.

"Then who? Which one of my friends put this all together?"

"Someone who couldn't be here," her dad informed her.

Understanding dawned instantly, and it took an act of sheer willpower to keep her tears at bay this time around. Just when she thought she couldn't possibly love him more than she already did, Jesse amazed her with a grand gesture that made her heart swell.

"Jesse," she surmised aloud.

"Yep. He called me up, outlined the plan, and supplied the guest list," Leroy explained.

"He wanted this birthday to be extra special for you, and he thought starting the weekend with all of your friends would be just the thing," Hiram added. "So go, enjoy your party."

Rachel needed no further urging. She was attempting to choose who to talk to first, when Noah appeared at her side, effectively making the decision for her. After giving her a quick hug, he got right to the point.

"So, Berry, who's the hot babe?"

Following Puck's gaze, she groaned inwardly as she noted that the only other girl whose boyfriend was not present at the festivities was the one who had caught McKinley's most notorious player's attention.

"She's taken, Noah."

"Don't see a ring on her finger."

"She's dating Jesse's best friend, Nate. And aren't you still with Lauren? Where is she tonight, by the way?"

"Couldn't make it. I think she said something about the wrestlers collecting donations for the food bank," Puck muttered absently, his eyes never leaving Julia. "And I'm just looking. No harm, no foul."

"Noah, don't," Rachel hissed in warning.

He pointedly ignored her, walking across the room with a well-practiced swagger that rarely failed to make girls sit up and take notice. Rachel was about to try to head him off, but found her path blocked by Kurt and Blaine, who'd been biding their time, waiting for an opportunity to talk to her ever since she'd arrived.

"Happy, happy birthday," Kurt chirped, clearly in an upbeat mood.

"Happy birthday, Rachel," Blaine echoed, as he leaned in for a hug.

"I'm so glad you're both here and I'd love to chat, but right now I need to keep Noah from doing something stupid," she blurted out.

The duo pivoted in Puck's direction, eager to determine what Rachel was referring to. They sized the situation up instantly, causing them both to mutter their disapproval.

"He's cheating on Lauren!" Kurt spluttered indignantly.

"Noah would probably argue that they never agreed to be exclusive," Rachel countered.

"But he's stealing someone else's girl," Blaine fumed. "Didn't we see her with Jesse's friend the day they all came to watch you at Sectionals?"

"You did. She and Nate are trying to make a go of the long distance thing, but if her reaction to Noah is any indication, it seems she's having a hard time of it."

"Out of sight, out of mind," Blaine suggested.

"They're not, though. They text, phone or Skype every day, just like Jesse and I do. But I think Jules is having trouble handling the physical separation." Plucking her cell from her pocket, her finger was already poised over her boyfriend's speed dial number. "I'd better call Jesse, and see if he can get a hold of Nate. Maybe hearing from the guy she claims to care deeply about will nip whatever Noah's trying to start in the bud."

"Good idea," Kurt declared. "Meanwhile, I do believe Mr. Puckerman and I have some catching up to do."

Dragging Blaine along with him, a very determined Kurt strode purposefully towards Puck, who was now flirting shamelessly with an obviously smitten Julia. Rachel kept a wary eye on the foursome as she waited for Jesse to answer. Just as she feared she was about to get his voice mail, she was greeted by his comforting voice.

"Hey, beautiful. I wasn't expecting to hear from you right now. Aren't you in the middle of something?"

"If you mean the surprise party that my completely awesome boyfriend arranged for me, then yes, it's happening as we speak, and I'll express my gratitude properly later. Right now, I need your help."

"Any time. With what?"

"Jules. Noah."

"I'm sorry. Come again?"

"Noah came alone, and he's currently hitting on the 'hot babe', as he called her."

"And she is…"

"Responding to the Puckerman charm, by the looks of it."

"Shit."

"Can you reach Nate? I thought that if he called or texted her, it might cool things off enough to avert disaster."

"He's right here. I'll let him know."

"Ok. Thanks. I'll Skype you when the party's over."

"I'll wear my best birthday suit in your honour," he vowed, causing desire to pool deep within her.

"One more comment like that, and I'll send everyone home early," she threatened playfully.

"Patience, Rach. Let the anticipation build," he urged quietly.

"It's already started," she admitted, "so I'd better disconnect this call before I forget that I'm surrounded by family and friends."

"You do that. I have to give Nate the heads up anyway. Talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Once she'd slipped her cell back into her pocket, she bit worriedly at her lower lip as Julia's laughter floated through the air. Nate's interruption couldn't come soon enough – although Rachel wasn't entirely sure that the damage hadn't already been done. Lost in her own thoughts, she jumped at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she spied Vince at her side, his dark brown eyes mirroring the concern plainly visible in her own.

"I thought she'd outgrown her thrill-seeking stage," he muttered darkly. "Nate's a great guy, but Jules tends to lack patience."

"Can't you do something?" Rachel queried, her tone pleading.

"I could challenge your muscle-bound friend to a fight, but your party would be ruined, and that would suck. Besides, if Jules isn't mature enough to realize how good she's got it, maybe it's best Nate find that out sooner rather than later."

"But he and Jules seemed so happy. And your parents like him, too"

"He's honestly the best thing that's ever happened to her. Too bad she's such a sucker for flattery, and I sense that dude's laying it on thick. What's his name again?"

"Noah. Noah Puckerman."

"Well, Noah appears to have a way with the ladies," Vince observed dryly.

"You don't know the half of it," Rachel murmured under her breath.


The phone was barely out of Jesse's hands when Nate began to pepper him with questions.

"What do you need to give me a heads up about? Isn't Rachel at her party? Why was she calling?"

"Slow down, Steadman. Brace yourself."

"Oh, God. It's bad news."

"Yeah, it is, and I'm not going to sugar coat it. Puckerman's flying solo tonight, he's currently hitting on Jules, and she's apparently letting him."

"That bastard! I know he's been helping you keep Rachel safe, but right now, I'd cheerfully beat him to a pulp. Hudson's injuries would pale in comparison."

"I don't blame you one bit, but that response isn't terribly practical. Rachel suggested you call Jules. Break the spell he's weaving."

When Nate made no move to retrieve his own phone, Jesse eyed his friend quizzically. The latter sighed, then rose and began to pace, before finally meeting Jesse's gaze once more.

"What if I screw up?"

"Uh, I'd say she's the one screwing up, Steadman. Not you."

"But that's the point. I'm not just mad at him. I'm furious at her, too, and I'm terrified I'm going to scream something at her in anger that I won't be able to take back. I've always been a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. I bail at the first sign of trouble. I'm not used to sticking around to try to work stuff out."

"Do you want to?" Jesse asked quietly.

"I do."

"Then don't call. Send her a text instead. It'll be easier to censor yourself, and you'll have time between responses to think things through."

"You're good at this."

"I've had more practice. And I'm in far deeper than you, so I've had to come up with viable solutions."

"Thanks. Mind if I do it from here? I might need your advice part way through."

"Which I'll be more than happy to give. Go ahead. Remind her of your superior qualities – and that you'll see each other in a couple of days. That ought to help."

Picking up his cell, Nate began urgently tapping away at it. After several fits and starts, he settled on a two word message, which earned him a pair of raised eyebrows from Jesse.

"That's huge, man. Are you sure?"

"It's been on the tip of my tongue for a while now. I guess I simply needed the right incentive to say it out loud."

"As long as this isn't desperation talking, and you really mean it."

"I do."

"Then go ahead."

Satisfied that his brief text had the St. James seal of approval, Nate hit Send, then sat back and waited.


Kurt and Blaine had strategically elbowed their way between Julia and Puck. In spite of the pointed glares the football player was directing at him, Kurt stood his ground and began prattling about the wide array of food that Rachel's fathers were currently placing on the long table they'd set up on one side of the living room. Guessing that his former classmate was not going to budge, Puck was about to propose to the fascinating girl in front of him that they head outside for a breath of fresh air when her attention was drawn from him by the buzz of her cell. The instant she noted the name on her screen, she hurried off to a quiet corner without so much as a backward glance at Puck, who looked decidedly annoyed at the unexpected interruption.

A few feet away, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Julia's entire demeanour change, the sudden smile on her face so bright that Rachel couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, Nate had said to prompt such an intense reaction. She was about to try to satisfy her curiosity when Grace and Vince strolled over, hand in hand. A question that had been gnawing at her sprang to mind, and she shifted her focus to the younger of the Howell cousins.

"How did you get here before me? We left the Last Bite at the same time, and you and Amy headed in the opposite direction."

"Your dad recommended a few shortcuts, and told us to floor it," Grace laughed. "We even had a contingency plan. If you made it home first, your daddy was going to send you back out for ice cream. They're both pretty sneaky."

"That they are," Rachel agreed, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And they're also, without a doubt, the best parents ever."


Amy tiptoed along the upstairs hallway, grateful that the noise from the party would mask any sound she might make. After ensuring that Grace had Rachel well and truly distracted, she'd set out to fulfill the request Jesse had made of her earlier in the week. Pushing open the door to her friend's room, she smiled knowingly at the sight of Rachel's carry-on, open and partially packed, just as Jesse had predicted it would be. Now, all she had to do was find the item of clothing he'd described to her in rather vivid detail and hide it in the bag, so that Rachel wouldn't notice it until she'd arrived at her hotel. When the second drawer she checked yielded exactly what she'd been looking for, she let out a tiny yell of triumph. Her elation was short-lived, however, as a soft voice broke through the silence and caused her to stop dead in her tracks.

"What are you doing here?"