Imagine Person A is helping Person B pick out an outfit for a date with someone else, and Person A is growing more and more jealous as the day goes on.

Quinn sat fuming in the chair outside of the dressing room. Five hours, four different stores, three cups of coffee and Rachel finally had it narrowed down to two dresses. The worst part was, it was for a date. Quinn had agreed to help her shop, but now she was regretting it heartily.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you help me real fast?"

Quinn held back a sigh with difficulty and stood. She slipped through the dressing room curtain and stopped, mouth dropping open.

Rachel was wearing a black, off the shoulder cocktail dress. It was currently unzipped, and Quinn was having problems keeping her thoughts strictly platonic. Well, she always had a problem with that, but now it was worse.

"Do you like it?" Rachel asked.

"ejekjafjiugggh."

"I'll…take that as a yes," Rachel said. "Help me zip it?"

Quinn did so, trailing one hand up Rachel's back after the zipper. "You look amazing. Who's the lucky guy?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound too bitter.

"Actually…it's not a guy."

And something inside Quinn went flop. She'd had a chance. Maybe she still did. Images of carnage as she fought both literally and figuratively for Rachel's heart flashed across her brain. She stuttered, "I uh…I'm starving. Meet me in the food court?" Without waiting for a response, she bolted from the dressing room.


Ten minutes later, she was staring morosely at her greasy orange chicken and noodles from The Panda Hut. She stabbed at the chicken, and thought up creative ways to hit Rachel's girlfriend with a bus. Or an airplane.

"I told Santana this would happen," Rachel said, sitting down across from her. She had a bag with her, so apparently she'd decided on the dress.

"Sorry, what now?"

"I told her you'd get flustered and run off to eat non-ethical foodstuffs. In fact, I called it right down to the orange chicken."

"I feel like I missing something," Quinn grunted.

"In Santana's nefarious mind, this was supposed to be less Lifetime drama and more Nicholas Sparks rom-com. Her fantasy went something like: I'd say it wasn't a guy, and you'd say 'Then who's the lucky girl'. And I'd smile coyly and rub your arm and say something like, 'Oh, I think you'd like her. Blonde, sexy and super smart.' And then the penny would drop and you'd push me against the wall and…well, it was Santana's fantasy we're talking about. I'm sure you can guess from there."

Quinn gaped at her.

"To be fair, I thought this would happen at store number one…."

"So…all this was to make me jealous?"

"I know, I suck. But…did it work?"

Quinn, to Rachel's surprise, burst out laughing. "You know, it would've been a lot easier if you'd just called and asked 'Hey Quinn, do you want to go on a date with me?' It would've save you some time and me some anxiety."

"My bad. but you know us - we do things the hard way. So…you want to go on a date with me?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Berry. Let's do it."

"At least buy me dinner first," Rachel said in a mock-scandalized voice.

"You have been hanging out with Santana entirely too much…."