In the frigid New Haven light, the sun had barely risen from the horizon when Rachel could not stay in bed any longer. Sleep left her as soon as it took her. By six-thirty she could not stay reclined any longer. Shivering, the tip of her nose cold, she brushed her teeth and washed her face then went downstairs.
She did not expect anyone to be awake, which would then give her time to figure out the coffee maker. But as soon as she was halfway down the stairs, the rich smell of roasted coffee beans and the gurgle of the steaming water assaulted her senses.
The kitchen light painted the cabinets with a warm splash of brightness. Before the stove stood Quinn. The sleeves of her loose, heather grey Yale Bulldogs sweater were rolled up past her elbows. She also wore the shortest shorts that allowed Rachel the unadulterated view and appreciation of Quinn's thighs, the length of her legs, the perfect curve of her calves.
She was in the middle of flipping pancakes. A five-tall stack of them wobbled on a sheet tray.
"Good morning," Quinn's low, warm voice was better than any first sip of coffee that Rachel could imagine. "How do you take your coffee? With milk and sugar?"
"No milk, please – unless it's vegan."
Rachel enjoyed the view from her seat on the dining table. It gave her the scenic landscape of the kitchen, with its pale, yolk cabinets amidst sapphire-blue tiling. The U-shaped counter partitioned it from the rest of the open concept of the first floor. Her elbow on the table, Rachel rested her cheek against her palm and thanked Quinn when she brought her a cup of freshly-brewed coffee, with wisps of steam curling over the lip of the cup.
"Did you sleep well? I don't remember what time we got to bed."
"It was pretty late – eleven p.m., I believe. And it's not anyone's fault, really, but I rarely sleep well during the first few nights at a new place. My body just knows, I guess."
Quinn flipped a pancake onto the tray and poured out another round of the batter against the surface of the hissing griddle. "When I have to travel, I have to bring my bamboo pillow with me or else forget it – I won't be able to sleep. Maybe you should get a bamboo pillow for yourself as well."
Maybe it was Quinn's motherly instinct, but the fact that they met not twenty-four hours ago and already she showed concern for Rachel's sleeping habits made the younger woman warm all over — warm from Quinn's concern.
"I'll look into it," Rachel answered with a smile.
"Good. Any plans for today?"
Rachel sipped her coffee and hummed in delight, which was apparent, it seemed, that Quinn looked proud. Beth took that moment to arrive downstairs. She kissed her mom on the cheek and sat beside Rachel. "No plans. But it's okay – I really don't need to be catered to or anything."
Quinn hummed and placed an empty plate and the stack of pancakes in front of Rachel, along with a bottle of maple syrup. "Yale has a series of galleries and exhibits open to the public, if you're interested. I can get you in for free since I'm an alumni."
"No offense, mom, but Yale has weird exhibits," Beth said. She took three pancakes and slathered them in butter and drenched the pile with maple syrup while both Rachel and Quinn eyed her with mild horror and amusement. "They have a brain library with real brains. In jars," she told Rachel.
"That's not all Yale has."
"Yeah, they also have a surgery and tumours exhibit."
Quinn huffed. "Yale Architecture has nice galleries, if Rachel is into that sort of thing."
Both blondes turned on Rachel. Sharp hazel eyes focused on her, expecting an answer. She brought her coffee to her lips and swallowed. "Well, I don't know anything about architecture so I don't know if I'd be able to appreciate it to its full extent."
At this, Quinn brightened. "I can teach you."
"Mom, Rachel's only here for a month, not four years."
Rachel bit her lip. She could only wish.
In the end, Rachel did not sightsee on her first day at New Haven. Instead, she and Beth spent a few hours hanging out. In the privacy of Beth's bedroom, they gossiped about their professors – and talked about girls.
As the rest of the week passed, the three of them formed a habit. Usually, Quinn or Rachel woke up first – which was good since they were the only ones who knew how to operate the coffee maker. More often than not, Rachel strove to wake up earlier than Quinn because there was something so… heart-rending at the sight of the older woman with her mussed blonde hair, her half-closed eyelids, the sleepy look on her face. The way she would slowly smile like the sun rising when she saw Rachel made the dark-haired girl feel incandescent. As if she had done something greater than simply put the coffee on.
When Rachel woke up on a bright Wednesday morning, she realized that she just turned twenty-four. She read and responded to her dads' happy birthday email and accepted the money they transferred her. She thanked those who greeted her via text, grateful that she did not have a Facebook when this time of the year rolled around. There was something exhausting about receiving birthday wishes from people there. With the automated reminders, Rachel would rather not receive a birthday wish at all.
She tiptoed downstairs and proceeded to make breakfast. The coffee was made. The full carafe sat on the hot plate, kept warm. At the sound of footsteps, Rachel looked up and stifled the urge to sing to herself, happy birthday to me.
Quinn yawned when she stepped off the stair landing wearing only a silk-white dress shirt and, to Rachel's panic, not much else. Quinn stretched her arms over her head. Her shirt rode up and Rachel caught a glimpse of Quinn's lace panties that contrasted against the marble of Quinn's skin. At least she had the foresight not to keep grating the sweet potato in her hand lest she went on to grate her finger down to bloody nubs. Rachel looked away and stared at the growing pile of orange strands in the bowl.
"Thank you for always making coffee," Quinn said with a sleepy smile.
"Excuse me one second," Quinn came up behind Rachel to reach into the cabinet above where the coffee mugs were. Rachel, once more, was pinned against the counter by Quinn's body, the older woman's hand on her hip. Really, with every day that passed, Rachel was so sure she would lose her head, delirious as she was with desire for her.
And every day, Rachel had to remind herself that this was her friend's mom.
Quinn retrieved her mug and filled it with coffee. Rachel, her face hot, began to cook breakfast. When Beth arrived downstairs, Quinn kissed the top of her head. "I have to go downtown today – I have a bunch of meetings. Will you two be alright?"
"You should've said that earlier – I'm visiting my old high school today!" Beth exclaimed.
"I'll be fine alone," Rachel said. "I promise – I have plenty to do. I was thinking of starting to arrange the music for the show choir competition today anyway."
The two blondes looked at each other, and then at Rachel. "If you're sure," Quinn said cautiously. "But I'll leave you my business card with my contact info, just in case."
Rachel bade Quinn and Beth goodbye from the front porch. She watched Quinn's vehicle disappear down the street before retreating back into the house, making sure to lock the front door as she did. It felt eerie to be alone in a house that was not her own. Hell, she could do anything and no one would know. She could raid Quinn's underwear drawer if she wanted – but she wouldn't, for the record – or look through their family albums. But Rachel liked to think she was not a creep, so she grabbed her sheet music and parked herself in front of the piano to begin the song arrangements for the upcoming glee club competition.
It took her a few hours but she managed to finish the arrangement in a decent transition in between songs – she would have to consult Tina, who had classical music training growing up – with a balance of lines for each member of the club. For the duet, she thought about assigning it to Beth and Marley, just for fun, and maybe to finally goad the young blonde into asking the club vice-president out on a date.
It was eleven-thirty when she finished. Rachel was not hungry yet, but she also did not know what else to do.
She reached into her pocket and fished out the elegantly-designed business card Quinn gave her. It had her office's address, her business phone number, and her email.
How creepy would it be if she visited Quinn in her workplace?
Hopefully not very, because by the time Rachel asked herself those questions, her Uber was already waiting for her in the driveway.
Downtown New Haven certainly gave off a different vibe than, say, Lower Manhattan. It bustled, sure, but there was more greenery, more parks, and with the squat Yale buildings, it felt less claustrophobic. The structures of the building had a more historical atmosphere, though every now and then, modern glass buildings sat interspersed among brick and mortar structures.
The Uber dropped her off in front of an archaic-looking building with glass-and-gold revolving doors. Sharply-dressed office staff milled around inside, in front of the reception, and around the plush couches that likely served as a waiting area. Rachel stepped out of the car and made her way through the front door.
"I'm here to see a Miss Quinn Fabray."
The receptionist looked up. "Sixth floor. The elevators are to your left."
She entered an empty elevator and rode it alone to the sixth floor. It opened into a hallway, and as she walked into the office proper, it shocked her that the office was dead quiet, it seemed. People in their cubicles typed away, so only the clattering of fingers on keyboards broke the silence. People wore headphones. Every so often, a phone would ring.
"Who are you looking for?" A young man approached Rachel. An intern, judging from the tray of coffee in his hands.
"Quinn Fabray, please."
"She's in a meeting right now, but if you'd follow me, I can take you somewhere you can wait for her."
Rachel tailed the intern deeper into the recesses of the office. The conference room had glassed windows so that anyone could see what was being discussed, but unless the doors opened, no one could hear anything being said.
"You can wait here," the intern pointed at a series of club chairs positioned along a half-wall, book-ended by two flourishing philodendrons in massive terra cotta pots. Rachel thanked the intern who then pulled the door to the conference room open. From where she sat, Rachel could see Quinn – her hair up in a ponytail, errant blonde locks having escaped her hair tie. The image projected onto the screen was one of those modern chairs with stilt legs made out of brass.
Quinn addressed the intern, possibly to thank him for the coffee. The intern's ears turned red, and he hastily mentioned something. That was when Quinn glanced out and saw Rachel who offered a sheepish smile and a wave. The blonde smiled, held up a finger, and mouthed, 'one moment'. When the intern left the conference room, Rachel heard fragments of Quinn's voice.
" – these garbage modern chairs would collapse if you don't – "
"She said she'll be with you in a moment," the intern managed to gasp out. "But man, isn't she so hot?"
In that room full of white men, with their similar haircuts, their similar beards, and even perhaps their similar tastes in everything else, Quinn was one of a kind. Rachel was content to sit there and watch her all day, but after about ten more minutes where Quinn's stern features did not seem to change, she called for an end to the meeting. The white dudes filtered out of the conference room one by one, with Quinn taking up the rear.
As she stepped out of the room, her expression softened as she unravelled her ponytail and shook out her hair. "Hi, thanks for waiting. What are you doing here?"
"I thought we could get lunch together," Rachel said.
"Great idea – I can use a break. Let me grab my coat."
They found a near-empty café that sold pressed sandwiches with crunchy crusts, bountiful side dishes, and delicious coffee. They took a table by the bay windows, and in the middle of that quiet café, with the certain slant of the cold, New Haven light pouring through the window, Rachel admired the way Quinn's hair and her hazel eyes caught that light. How it illuminated her.
And when Quinn caught Rachel's eye and she smiled? What else could Rachel be but a goner?
"Do I have mustard on my face?" Quinn laughed. "You're looking at me funny."
Rachel shook her head. "Sorry, I was just spacing out."
"You don't like your sandwich? I thought the promise of microgreens sounded pretty appetizing."
Could Rachel say that no, the reason she was spaced out was not because of her sandwich but rather – she was in the midst of picturing tomorrows with Quinn? A whole multitude of them. She wanted to see how Quinn looked in the winter light, the spring light, the summer light, the autumn light.
Was she getting ahead of herself? Definitely. And what about it?
It was not like she was ready to settle. After, to want love does not mean settling. From the very first moment Rachel saw Quinn in the midst of the bustle of New Haven's Union Station, she knew by intuition alone that this woman would be capable of igniting feelings in Rachel that would make any emotionally-open person sing. And now, eating lunch with her in a city unfamiliar to Rachel, she was confident that she was halfway in love with the woman who sat across from her.
Still, Rachel's philosophy was: if it quacks like a duck, it must be a duck, so too, must love. If it left her burning in the after hours with an ache in her chest and hands she longed to be filled with Quinn's, then it must be love.
As far as birthdays went, Rachel thought, it was tame. She turned twenty-four and all she got to show for it was a flame that lapped at her heart. And at least the view was nice.
Quinn's soft, gentle voice removed the fog of Rachel's thoughts. "You know, since you're downtown, you might as well look around. I have to get back to the office but if you come by at four, I can drive us home."
They finished eating and parted ways. Rachel stood in the middle of the sidewalk and watched Quinn's retreating form.
Rachel walked the main streets of downtown New Haven, though mostly she visited bookstores and music shops just for something to do. With Yale being closed for the winter break, the streets, the school's quad, and the stores were decidedly less busy. While window-shopping, she chanced upon a gift that felt casual and playful enough for Quinn to open with Beth around. It was a mug. For Beth, Rachel found a used book that she planned on annotating for the girl's studies in the coming term.
She could have easily taken an Uber back to the Fabray house – it would have been faster, rather than having to while away the hours until Quinn finished work – but she also wanted to be alone with Quinn again.
God, she felt like she was such a teenager, conniving up ways to be alone with the woman she held feelings for.
Deciding to just wait in the lounge of Quinn's office building, she was surprised that ten minutes before four o'clock, the blonde emerged from the elevators. She made small talk with the receptionists, caught sight of Rachel, and flashed her a smile.
"Did you wait long?" Quinn asked while she rummaged through her purse for her keys.
She wanted to say, 'for you I am willing to wait hours just for a few minutes to be alone with you.' She wanted to say, 'I don't know how long I waited since I now measure time by the way my heart races when you're around.' Those were what she wanted to say, in her heart, but instead what came out of her was, "not at all," Rachel said while she followed Quinn to her car.
Beth looked shocked when Quinn and Rachel entered the Fabray house one after the other. "I was wondering where you were," she told Rachel from her seat on the couch.
"I went downtown! Took an Uber and everything," Rachel said whilst helping Quinn out of her coat. The older blonde looked mildly shocked, but still mouthed a soft 'thank you' before heading to the living room.
"And mom happened to see you walking?"
"No, we had lunch," Quinn kissed the top of Beth's head. "How was your high school visit?"
As Beth regaled to her mom stories of people whose names were unfamiliar to Rachel, she hung up Quinn's coat and her own. She took a seat on the couch across from Beth while Quinn walked around the living room, straightening stacks of magazines and fluffing up throw pillows. She approached the piano and Rachel remembered that she left her music notes there to come back to. She opened her mouth to apologize for leaving a mess but stopped short when Quinn smoothed her dress and sat on the piano bench.
The older woman had a look of concentration on her features. She played the melody of one of the songs – a mashup of "Halo" and "Walking on Sunshine". Under the hands of someone else, Rachel could hear the off note that did not fit as Quinn played it.
"You didn't mention your mom played the piano," muttered Rachel.
"What can I say? Mom is talented."
Quinn searched for a pencil and made a mark on the music sheets before her, then played the song again. This time, it was perfect.
She blinked, as if in a trance, then turned to Rachel. "Oh, I'm sorry – I changed something before I even asked."
"It's okay, I couldn't figure it out when I was mashing it up. Thank you for your help," Rachel approached the piano to look over Quinn's notation. The older woman explained the theory behind the change, and Rachel nodded in understanding. "Now that you explain it like that, that was pretty simple."
Quinn smiled and from Rachel's proximity to the woman, she could smell her perfume, the scent of her grapefruit lotion as it emanated from her body. "Glad I could help."
She then excused herself, citing exhaustion from work. Both Rachel and Beth watched her go – Rachel, staring far longer than her friend, who eyed her with amusement.
"So, how was lunch?"
"She's – great. The food was great. Not as overpriced as brunch in Brooklyn. I visited your mom at work too, and..."
"Hey, don't tell me you have a crush on my mom!" Beth chucked a throw pillow at Rachel's direction, and she caught it. "You did mention you like older women so she might just be your type."
Rachel laughed it off. "Who knows," she said, hoping that she sounded careless enough, that her feelings, her longing for the blonde woman upstairs was not apparent. "I remember you mentioned that you wanted her to go on a date or something. What's up with that?"
"I don't want her to be lonely, that's all," Beth said while she looked up at the ceiling. "When I was growing up, I know she didn't go on dates much to take care of me and spend time with me. And I'm sure it wasn't because she didn't get offers – "
"Yeah, because she's beautiful."
"Right? She's gorgeous. She didn't date because of me, and, I don't know, I guess I feel bad."
Rachel sat on the couch beside Beth and patted her shoulder. "I'm sure your mom will find someone." She said, omitting the lurking hope that the person Quinn would find be her.
`With every moment spent in Quinn's company, Rachel grew to be unsure what her feelings were, precisely. This might just be a crush, but Rachel, ever looking ahead, wanted to call it in shorthand, love. And in her dubbing it as love, does it then become love? It was exhausting to figure out when all she wanted was to enjoy every painful, aching minute of it. And she hoped that Quinn did not notice that she turned Rachel's head at every instance, that Rachel would straighten in alertness whenever she heard the padding of her slippered feet against the floor.
But what always drove Rachel to the brink of the precipice of her feelings was whenever Quinn would make quips in response to simple observations Rachel made.
On another morning when Rachel woke up before Quinn, she was in the kitchen eating cereal from a blue and white bowl. Coffee sat warm in the carafe. A cold front crept from Vermont and New Hampshire that morning so Rachel was bundled in long sleeves and sweatpants. Down stepped Quinn wearing – to Rachel's alarm – a white button-down shirt.
Like something straight out of Rachel's fantasy.
"Good morning. Aren't your legs cold?" Rachel asked. Her eyes were undoubtedly trained on the shapely legs of the older woman. Her button-down shirt scarcely reached halfway past her thighs.
"A little bit. Why, would you like to warm them?" Quinn grinned.
Whatever this was – may it be flirting, teasing, or just an outright suggestion, Rachel had no means of reacting without betraying her desire. That yes, yes, yes, she would love to warm those thighs with her eyes, her hands, her mouth —
Instead, all that came out of her was a sputter. Cashew milk dribbled out of her mouth as she coughed.
"Maybe you should put on pants," Rachel stammered. Heat rose to her face and she felt immediately warm all over her body.
Quinn threw her head back in a laugh. "Sorry, I'm teasing."
Later that same afternoon Rachel discussed the song arrangements in the glee club group phone call with Beth right beside her. She glanced at the clock and rose to head to the kitchen.
"I'm going to make some tea. Would you like some?" She asked Beth while she filled the kettle.
"No, but thanks," Beth said. She was still alarmed over the fact that she would have to perform a duet, and on top of that, with the girl she liked. At least Marley seemed excited, which was a good sign.
"Maybe I'll bring Quinn one, what do you think?"
Beth glanced at Rachel and chuckled. "Yeah, why not. She likes – "
" — green tea, right?"
The younger blonde chuckled. "Of course you'd know that."
Rachel set down two mugs and tossed the tea bags into each mug, then filled it with the newly-boiled water. Once the three minutes were over, Rachel fished out the tea bags and tossed them in the composter. She took the mug she prepared for Quinn and ascended the stairs.
As Quinn promised when she gave Rachel the tour to the house, the door to her office remained ajar. Rachel poked her head through the doorway and saw Quinn hard at work behind her computer screen. The sight of her wearing round, tortoiseshell glasses stopped Rachel in her tracks.
A look of concentration adorned Quinn's features. She held a Blackwing pencil between her lips. It seemed that the blonde did not hear her coming, so she had yet to look up and notice her. She knocked and Quinn looked up.
"Hey, come in," she straightened her back and cleared out the printouts of room blueprints, chair diagrams, and colour palette swatches that littered her desk.
"I haven't seen you in a few hours so I bought you a tea," Rachel set the porcelain mug on top of a coaster.
"You missed me that much?"
"Maybe a little."
Quinn laughed as she brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. "Mmmm, perfect."
Rachel lingered in Quinn's office while she typed away, admiring the wall to wall shelves filled with books and magazines. The thick brocade of winter curtains half-covered the window behind Quinn so that the sunlight did not strike the spines of the books. This prevented their discolouration and kept them from fading.
Quinn rubbed her shoulders and sighed. "I need to go see my chiropractor, but he's off on vacation. He has the right idea, going to Puerto Rico during these winter months." She rotated her neck and winced.
"Would you like a massage?" Rachel blurted before she could censor herself.
The older woman smiled a lazy smile over the rim of her tea mug. "I wouldn't say no to that."
All Rachel wanted was to alleviate Quinn's pain – it was just an added boon that she got to touch the curve of her neck and her shoulder. As she stood behind Quinn, with her blonde hair swept aside to expose the column of her neck, the shapely shell of her ear with the glint of her pearl earrings, Rachel swallowed hard.
She rubbed her hands together to warm them and grasped Quinn's shoulder where it met her neck. Rachel kneaded the stiff muscles she found there, and Quinn's head lolled. She made soft grunts of pain and pleasure, which left Rachel praying that she kept her sanity intact.
"Rachel," came Beth's voice from down the hallway. "You left your tea downstairs — "
The dark-haired woman released Quinn's neck as if scalded when Beth appeared by the office's doorway. "Oh, there you are. Your tea got cold."
"That's fine," Rachel conceded. She stepped away from Quinn's desk. Heat radiated from her face. Her blush was obvious, she was sure of it. Rachel glanced back towards Quinn and her breath caught at the look on the older woman's face.
Her eyes were half-lidded, as if she was sleepy. Her elbows rested on the desk, and with her hands clasped together, she rested her chin against the back of her palms. Her brow was raised. An easy smile on her lips.
Rachel learned pretty early on that Quinn enjoyed a post-dinner glass of wine, and she especially enjoyed it more if Rachel joined her. They sat on the living room couch while Quinn lazily stroked Rachel's shoulder as she discussed performance theory with Beth.
"Right, okay, you're perfectly right but the Stanislavski system — "
Beth held up a hand. "Rachel, I'm not there yet. We're talking about Aristotle right now so don't pull that grad student card because it's unfair."
Quinn laughed and Rachel turned towards the sound, so invigorating, so much like springtime. "Are we boring you?" She asked.
"No, no. I enjoy it." Quinn's hand rested on the nape of Rachel's neck, and this contact, this proximity, was enough to make Rachel melt into the abyss of Quinn's touch. Her eyes sparkled in the low light of the living room lamps. "But now I must excuse myself. I have to do some work."
"Mom, it's nine at night," Beth said. "Don't you ever take a break?"
"Hey, I take plenty of breaks. Just, not right now because I have deadlines. I have to get the spring issue copy ready by the end of this week and I'm nowhere close to finishing. Plus whenever I go into the office, I get inundated by meetings so I don't get anything done for the new issue."
Beth raised her hands to concede. "Okay. Have fun."
Quinn chuckled and rose. Her touch lingered on Rachel's nape and dragged along her shoulder. Rachel resisted the urge to shiver, and she watched Quinn disappear up the stairs. It was all so subtle, her flirtations, but Rachel did not believe for one second that the older woman had no idea whatsoever what she was doing to her. Rachel sighed to release the tension Quinn left coiled inside her. If this was a light caress did to Rachel, imagine if she did something more.
Beth cleared her throat and Rachel jerked to face her friend. "What?"
"Nothing," the younger blonde grinned. "Hey, can we practice the songs for our competition? I was hoping you could give me some pointers for breath control."
"I think what you need to practice is how not to get distracted when you're singing with Marley," Rachel teased. "But sure, I'll help."
After a quick practice session, Rachel excused herself to go to bed since it neared midnight. Beth nodded, thanked her for her help, but remained in front of the piano, reading the sheet music. As Rachel climbed the stairs, a shaft of light emanated from Quinn's half-opened office door. She peeked into the office and saw that Quinn still sat on her office chair behind her desk. She had her head down on her arms that rested on top of a pile of magazines. She was asleep.
Rachel approached slowly so as not to wake her. She touched her shoulder and gently shook it, but Quinn hardly stirred. Helpless, Rachel leaned close to Quinn's ear and uttered her name.
Quinn tilted her face towards the sound of Rachel's voice and opened her eyes. Her mouth, her pouty lips, the hint of green and gold in her hazel eyes — Rachel could see them all in the lamplight of the office. All she needed to do was lean in — a few inches more — and she would take Quinn's lips in a kiss.
But she was nothing but chivalrous. She would not dare take advantage of her half-asleep state. Rachel retreated. "It's late — you should get to bed."
"Hmmmm," the older woman groaned. "I was just resting my eyes."
Her voice had a keen to it, a whininess that Rachel found endearing. "Well, you should rest them some more. Horizontally. On your bed."
Quinn giggled and she sat up with a wince. She held up her arms like a child wanting to get carried, but Rachel only looked at her with a raised brow. "At least help me up," Quinn said with a chuckle.
Rachel took both of Quinn's hands and she heaved herself to stand. She wrapped an arm around Rachel's shoulders and leaned against her — not so heavily so as to stumble, but enough. Enough to press her warm, pliant body against Rachel's, enough for her to be immersed in Quinn's floral scent, like drowning in it. Inescapable.
With her arm looped around Quinn's waist, Rachel assisted her out of her office. She shut the lights and together they made slow progress down the hall to Quinn's bedroom. Rachel felt the deja vu that accompanied the gesture of nudging the double doors open with her foot. She tugged the duvet that covered the bed and eased Quinn onto the cool white sheets. The blonde groaned dramatically and lay on her back. Rachel threw the blankets over her shivering body.
"Thank you, Rachel," Quinn offered Rachel a sleepy smile. The sight of her in that large cozy bed with only her head peeking out from the duvet, set Rachel's heart aflame — though really, it was anything Quinn did, even Quinn herself that ignited Rachel's passions like no other. It bordered on ridiculous, how Rachel magnified every single thing, no matter how minor, to the point that she was breathless nearly all the time.
Unable to resist, Rachel swept back the hair that shielded Quinn's features. She tilted her chin up, as if expecting something. Her eyes were bright.
"Anytime, Quinn. Good night."
Rachel made a hasty exit, though she felt the woman's eyes and how it followed her. She closed the double doors and sighed.
In the cold of the guest bedroom, Rachel rummaged through her belongings so she could undergo her nightly routine. Once returned, she settled into bed with another deep sigh. It had been a while, almost two years since her last serious relationship, and perhaps a year since she had a crush as bad as this one. This longing, this attraction left her exhausted, with her churning gut filled to the brim with butterflies that longed to get out.
Maybe she needed to sing about it.
It had been a few days, and still she struggled to sleep on the guest bed. As she shifted again to find a position that she could stay in, her phone buzzed.
"Hey! How's it going?" Mike asked from the other end of the line. "Also, I accidentally called you, but it's cool that you answered."
"I can't sleep," Rachel whined. "I feel like I'm going to explode."
"Are you in your feelings again?" He teased. "How are you handling your crush on Beth's mom? Oh wait, you said you were in love."
"And what about it? You sound so sceptical, like you don't know me."
"Rach, you've known the lady for… ten days?"
"Twelve days, but who's counting? And listen, I'm manifesting the feeling, okay? Mike, she's so beautiful, and funny, and smart… Not to mention – pardon my language – hot as hell."
"Yeah, yeah, you've said all those things about her already. Take a pic! Tina wants to see what she looks like, too."
"Go on Beth's Facebook or something! I'm not about to take a sneaky creep photo of the woman I'm in love with for your male gaze!"
Mike laughed and Rachel held the phone away from her ear for a few seconds. "You gonna tell her you're into her?"
"What's the point?" Rachel sighed. "After this month, I might never see her again."
"All the more reason to tell her!"
"I will not! This is Beth's mom, not some random older woman on the street. I don't want to impose this burden of my feelings on her. She deserves more than that."
"Where's Beth's dad anyway? You've never mentioned him once."
"This is borderline gossiping, you know. He's not in the picture, as far as I can tell. They were never married or anything."
"Yet you told me about it anyway," Mike retorted. "I gotta go. Let me know if anything happens. Good night!"
Rachel bade her friend good night and hung up. She buried her phone under her bed and tried to get at least some amount of sleep without succumbing in the universe she created in her mind where she and Quinn were together and in love.