XVI
The show goes off without a hitch.
Rachel feels as if she barely breathes throughout the entire performance. Her heart is constantly pounding, her cheeks always just a little flushed and her eyes just that bit brighter. There is such a rush from being on stage, and the only thing that remotely compares is how it feels to be with Quinn.
The fact she can even equate those two feelings is terrifying in its own way, because she's wanted the stage for what feels like forever, and she's just now coming to realise she's probably wanted Quinn for just as long.
One of the things Elliot told her to do is imagine the audience isn't even there, and she uses it to her advantage. If she doesn't think about Quinn sitting somewhere in the theatre and watching her, then she won't worry about it.
Instead, she settles into her character and enters Louise Gaiman's world, and it's honestly as if she doesn't exist as Rachel Berry until she hears the thunderous applause after the last line is said and the last note is sung.
She blinks against the floodlights, and Jasmine and Frankie are there, matching smiles on their faces. She feels Alec hug her from behind for a moment, and the rush of adrenalin makes her feel a little dizzy.
She did it.
They did it.
It feels amazing, in a way she's been waiting for her entire life. She's worked so hard for this moment, dedicated thousands of hours in rehearsals and specialised classes just to hone her craft. She's been beyond exhausted, been brought to tears, she's literally bled and sweat for this moment, and she was so worried it wouldn't feel worth it.
It is so much more than worth it.
After the applause has died and they've left the stage, Rachel allows the energy from the cast and crew to settle over her. Distract her enough while she changes out of her costume and prepares to see her friends.
To see Quinn.
They're waiting for her behind the theatre when she emerges with Frankie and Jasmine, and Rachel's heart stutters in her chest when she sees -
There's no Quinn.
There's no blonde head of hair anywhere, and Rachel can't quite keep the disappointment off her face. It's there, just a flash, but she schools her features enough to convince everyone but Santana she's okay.
Santana, who presents her with a large bouquet of flowers that has more gardenias than anything and says, "She was here, and she cried, big fat ugly tears." She leans in close. "But she didn't want to stay when having her here would ruin your night."
"It wouldn't," she immediately says.
Santana shrugs. "These are also from her, by the way," she says about the flowers. "You're, like, both equally useless."
Rachel manages a smile, conflicted over how she feels about the fact Quinn isn't here. It's probably for the best, given they haven't actually seen each other since their ill-fated kiss, but Rachel really just wants to lay eyes on her. Talk to her. Hug her.
Instead, she gets hugs from Santana and Kurt - hmm - and Blaine and her parents and her cast and crew, and she can almost kid herself into accepting it's okay Quinn isn't here.
They end up going out for drinks, Jasmine asking after Quinn just once, which Santana easily deflects, and Rachel is distracted enough that she doesn't mope too much.
Santana does hover, though, as if she expects Rachel to go off the rails at some point, but it doesn't happen. Not even in those long hours before the first official reviews are in. None of them even gets any sleep, and she's wide awake when Alec screams, loud and excited, where he's spread out on a bench in Central Park.
None of them has even suggested going home.
"What? What?" Frankie asks, looking at him.
Alec leaps to his feet. "We're a fucking hit!" he yells into the abyss, early morning joggers looking at him as if he's insane. "No, listen, listen," he says, turning towards them and starting to read out loud. "The show is sweet and poignant, dark in places and downright filthy in others. It has lighthearted humour, but isn't afraid to discuss dark themes, namely the protagonist's journey of self-discovery." His eyes skim over text. "Rachel Berry is a revelation, embodying Louise's character with authenticity and a true understanding of what it's like to be a young twenty-something in New York and just figuring out your life isn't going the way you always envisioned." Alec looks positively teary when he looks at Rachel. "She is definitely a star of the future, but also of the present."
Rachel thinks she might cry, so she just buries her face in her hands to hide the flush of her cheeks. Jasmine wraps her in a hug, merely keeping her warm, and they all continue to listen as Alec reads several other reviews. They're mostly good, which is a little surprising. They do mention the youth and relative inexperience of the cast, but the show gets a bright light shone on it and, as relieved as Rachel is, the pressure is still on.
It's what she's always wanted, though. To perform every night; to take audiences on a journey with her, and she's dedicated her entire life to it.
She's going to let nobody down, now.
Especially not herself.
It's when she gets a text from Quinn later that Rachel is forced, once again, to deal with the very real truth that her best friend has always been both more and less than that. Quinn sends a link to a particularly glowing review, and types, couldn't have said it better, even if I'd written it myself. you were amazing, Rach, though that was never in doubt.
Rachel stares and stares, wondering if things are just going to be like this. So normal. It feels like before, when Rachel was unaware and Quinn was her perfect, patient self. For the first time, Rachel wonders if they ever are actually going to talk about it?
Rachel doesn't bother waiting to reply, and sends back an 'embarrassed' emoji, followed by, thank you for the flowers. they're beautiful.
Quinn takes a few minutes to reply, and Rachel panics that she's said something wrong. Maybe she should have let Quinn's text sit for a while. Is she too eager? She really never used to worry about any of these things, before.
Quinn: Yeah, well, I saw them and I thought of you. Beautiful flowers for beautiful girls, and all that.
Rachel feels heat bloom on her cheeks, because that's -
It's not even anything new. It's nothing Quinn wouldn't have said before, but those words carry different meaning now. Obviously, Rachel doesn't know how Quinn feels about her now, but she does know the compliment isn't said innocently.
Rachel: You're very sweet, Quinn. They have a prime spot on my window sill.
She snaps a quick picture from where she's sitting on her bed, and sends it along. Her heart hasn't once been able to beat steadily, and she imagines Quinn must be able to hear it from wherever she is.
Quinn: Perfect.
Rachel panics, because that could mark an end to the conversation, and she doesn't want that. She needs - they need to talk. They have so much they need to say to each other.
Rachel: Santana said you cried.
Quinn: She's such a snitch, my god. You were just really good, okay. What was I supposed to do? I was MOVED.
Rachel: It's cute.
She holds her breath.
Rachel: You're cute.
She does not release it until Quinn replies, and it's a good thing she has such admirable lung capacity.
Quinn: We should probably talk.
Quinn: Lunch tomorrow?
Rachel doesn't even hesitate before she agrees. And then spends fourteen minutes panicking about actually seeing Quinn. Talking to her. Revealing her feelings.
She gets up from her bed, leaves her room and slips into Santana's. She's lying in her own bed, clearly exhausted from an all-nighter and a full day doing clinical work. Rachel crawls into bed beside her and says nothing.
Santana sighs. "What happened now?"
"I don't think it matters anymore," she says, and she's suddenly certain of it.
"What doesn't?"
"That I love her," she says. "I think she's already accepted I don't, that it doesn't matter anymore." It's a reality that's terrifying, but feels very on-brand when it comes to Quinn. Her modus operandi is doing what she can to cause herself the least pain, and Rachel suspects she's closed a door Rachel wasn't aware was open until it was too late.
"But you're still going to tell her, right?" Santana asks, "because I can't handle any more of this pining."
Rachel doesn't respond.
"Please don't chicken out now," Santana says. "I'm getting too old for this."
Rachel rolls onto her side to face her. "Maybe the best thing to do is put it all behind us," she reasons. "If Quinn is willing to forget everything, wouldn't I be an idiot not to agree?"
"I don't even know what to say to you right now."
"Are you not listening to me?" Rachel says. "In Quinn's mind, I've already rejected her. It doesn't matter that I know how I feel now. Maybe if the whole thing with Petra didn't happen, then - "
"Who the fuck is Petra?"
"The woman from the club."
"Please stop talking."
Rachel shuts her mouth.
"I'm going to tell you something I probably should have told you a long time ago, but I was respecting my best friend's secrets," she says. "Now they're out, so I don't feel as if I'm betraying her."
"What, Santana?"
"Quinn's book, the one she's getting published, it's about you," Santana tells her, and Rachel goes completely still
That can't be. Surely not.
Santana closes her eyes, yawning into her pillow. "So, don't even kid yourself, Rachel, because, dear God, it is always going to matter."
It is completely jarring just how normal Quinn acts when Rachel meets her at a restaurant near Columbia's campus. It isn't a regular spot, and Quinn actually spends a few minutes studying the menu.
Rachel just studies her. There's something different about her that makes Rachel inexplicably sad. She's missed whatever change has occurred, and she hates herself a little.
She also hates that she found Quinn waiting for her at a table already, and there were no hugs exchanged. Just a small smile and a quiet hello.
It's only after Quinn has ordered for them both that she seems to settle into her seat enough to say anything worthwhile. "Liz recommended the place," she says, and Rachel has to force her face not to react to the woman's name. Quinn is just surrounded by people who want her. "I thought we could try it out."
Rachel looks around, determined to hate it just on principle, but it's actually quite nice. She's not going to pout about it. "I hope the food is good," she says. "I haven't had breakfast."
Quinn shakes her head, but she's smiling. "You really suck at taking care of yourself," she says, and her tone sounds fond. "Is this what stardom has done to you?"
Rachel feels warm under Quinn's gaze. Goodness. Have her eyes always been that colour? "I mean, I'm pretty sure you've hit your peak when you can afford a personal chef, right?"
Quinn seems to consider it. "I thought the peak was a private jet?"
"But the emissions," she points out, a slight whine in her voice.
Quinn's smile is wide and beautiful. "You, the poor consumer, are responsible for so little," she says. "Fly private if you want to, I say."
They dip into a conversational lull that isn't exactly comfortable, and Rachel feels the pressure to fill the silence. It's never been like that with Quinn. They usually do quiet moments so well, but there's still such a disjoint.
Rachel clears her throat. "So, um, how was Prague?"
Quinn's smile gets impossibly wider. "It was amazing," she says. "We were there for a conference, of course, but we had a few days to explore, and it was - I'm definitely going to go back. The buildings are so old and have so much history. And the people are great. We met some really interesting ones." The way she says the last sentence tells Rachel there's more to it, but Quinn doesn't elaborate.
There is more silence.
Rachel feels antsy and loaded with revelations. There's so much she needs to say, but Quinn doesn't seem as if she even wants to hear any of it.
What's supposed to happen now?
When their food arrives, Rachel watches Quinn say a quick prayer and then reach for her cutlery. The action is familiar, and she allows herself this moment of calm before she says, "I'm sorry."
Quinn's fork freezes on its way to her mouth, and she sighs. "I don't even know for what you're apologising," she says.
"All of it?"
Quinn sets her fork on the edge of her plate, looking thoughtful. "You know, for years, I've had many scenarios in my head about how it would all play out, but nothing I ever came up with came close to what actually happened."
"Quinn."
She eats her bite of food, jaw tense. "I factored in the panic, you know," she says. "I even convinced myself I would be ready for it, if ever we became a reality. I can handle panic, and I think I did it quite well, given the circumstances. I needed time, and then we would talk."
"Quinn."
"And then one of my worst scenarios became a reality, and now I know it was never actually about me."
"You know that's not true."
"I think you overestimate just how much I know, Rachel," Quinn says, referring to the paragraph Rachel sent her, and she just sounds so tired. "Tell me what I need to know, then, because my head and heart aren't really on the same page anymore." She pauses. "If they ever were."
Rachel contemplates leading with the all-important three words, but she doesn't think diving in so deep at the start is a good idea. Quinn really might not believe her, at this rate.
"Do you know I once asked Finn how it felt to kiss you?" Rachel says, and Quinn stiffens. They make a point of avoiding any talk of Finn on days that aren't his birthday or the anniversary of his death.
"What?"
"I always wondered," Rachel says. "He told me it felt like fireworks, which made no sense to me, because I had nothing to base it on back then. Not even after. Not until I actually got to experience it for myself."
"Rachel."
"I have noticed many things about you, did you know that?" Rachel continues as if Quinn hasn't spoken. "All these little things that I didn't really notice I learned until I just did." She looks down, realising she hasn't even touched her food yet. "Like the way you drink orange juice only in the mornings, and the way you always put your glasses on with your right hand, if you can help it. The way you end your correspondence with an L. Quinn Fabray, because you both love and hate the name Lucy, and the way your smile gets a little crooked when you think I'm being ridiculous."
"Rachel."
"I didn't know I was cataloguing these things," Rachel says. "I had no idea it wasn't even normal to do those things, because, like, I know how Santana likes her coffee, and I know never to wash her Harvard t-shirt from Brittany with all our other clothes. But it's not the same, is it?
"It's not. Because I also know that you smell different on Wednesdays, because you don't spray your perfume that day because you know it irritates Terry's nose when you spend the late afternoon reading to the residents at Village Care. And I know you only pretend to like that silly dance class Santana drags you to, because you know she does it so she doesn't feel too far away from Brittany. I know all these things about you, but I just never knew - I never thought - it just never crossed my mind that - "
"I could want you."
Rachel swallows, losing her thunder a little. "Everyone else knew," she points out.
"Everyone else could see it," Quinn says.
"Except me."
Quinn focuses on her food, fiddling with her fork. "You weren't quite looking," she says. "I've been right in front of you for years."
"Would you have let me marry Jesse?" Rachel suddenly asks.
"There is no 'let,' Rachel," she says. "All I've always wanted is for you to be happy."
"You make me happy," Rachel insists, and it's the truest sentence she's ever said. "You make me so happy, and I am so sorry that I didn't see it. I'm so sorry that I - " she stops, her breath catching.
Quinn looks at her in concern. "Rachel? Are you okay?"
"Quinn?"
"What?"
"I love you."
Quinn drains of colour, which is really rather dramatic, even for her. "What?"
"I am in love with you," Rachel clarifies, because a simple 'I love you' doesn't feel like enough. "I have been, for a very long time, and I didn't see it." She meets Quinn's wide eyes, disbelief evident in the hazel. "It seems you didn't see it, either."
"What?"
Honestly, if Rachel wasn't so close to panicking herself; she would find the flabbergasted look on Quinn's face deeply amusing. But she just stares as Quinn stares, and it takes their waiter coming by to question if the food is okay to get them to break eye contact.
Quinn excuses herself to the bathroom shortly after, and Rachel can't seem to catch her breath, imagining the worst. What if Quinn just leaves? What if she doesn't come back? What if this is it? What if -
Rachel shovels as much food into her mouth as she can manage. Just to distract herself, but also because she hasn't eaten anything all day.
Quinn comes back.
She slides into her seat, but doesn't move to resume eating. Instead, she says, "I have a lot going on at the moment," and it hits like a sledgehammer. "I don't know if I can do this right now."
Rachel blinks. "This?"
Quinn gestures between the two of them, and Rachel's heart sinks. "My book is being released in two weeks, I've started doing work for Tom and Denny, Jordan's letting me co-supervise some students next semester, and I just - it has been so much easier to focus on my work than... this."
"This," Rachel repeats, but it's no longer a question.
"I'm sorry," Quinn says, and Rachel definitely doesn't need an apology from her. Not for something like this.
Rachel knows she's blown it. She knew it before she even arrived today. Because she knows Quinn, and she told Santana this would happen.
"Can I say something?" Rachel asks, because Quinn can act as if it doesn't matter as much as she wants, but they all know better.
Rachel is going to make sure it matters.
Quinn nods slowly.
"When we kissed, it felt like forever," she says; "and that is the part that scared me the most." She leans forward, needing Quinn to hear her. "You are my best friend, and I roped you into this impossible situation without really considering how you would feel about it. I am sorry I've hurt you with my inability to figure out my own feelings, and I know it's not fair to expect something from you now that I understand why I've hated everyone you've ever dated."
Quinn's eyes widen as a certain understanding seems to settle over her.
Oh.
It makes so much more sense now.
The edges of Rachel's mouth twitch. "And then being with you - even if it was all just pretend - felt like everything I didn't even know I wanted, and, yes, I panicked and ran and hid, because - Quinn, I know it doesn't look like it, but I've never wanted to hurt you. I just - I needed to know for myself that I could love you and be with you the way you deserved, and that's what you saw in those pictures Alessia sent."
Quinn actually flinches, and Rachel hates that she's responsible.
"I met a woman, and her name was Petra, and she helped me overcome some hangups I had about the person I could be for you," Rachel explains. "I just - you told me you wanted me for so long, and I didn't want to let you down."
Quinn's features soften. "You could never let me down," she murmurs.
"But I already have," she argues.
"I never would have expected anything from you, Rachel," Quinn makes sure to say. "There is an abundance of understanding that comes with falling for your straight best friend."
"But I'm not," Rachel says, and Quinn's mouth snaps shut. "I am not straight, Quinn."
And, just as quickly as Quinn went pale; her cheeks flush a deep red.
Rachel puffs out a breath. "I just needed to accept it for myself, and then I did, but what was supposed to be an important moment for my own self-discovery was turned into something else; something that hurt you, and I will always be sorry for that." Her gaze meets Quinn's. "I have no idea what I actually am, but I know I'm not straight, because I want nothing more than to be with you. Spend every day with you, just be in your presence and have your attention. It's - it's all I've ever wanted."
Quinn just stares at her, unblinking.
"So, um, if you can't do this right now, that's okay," Rachel says, losing some of her thunder. "I just need you to know where I stand, and I'm - I'm ready when you are."
Quinn still looks disbelieving. When she does speak, it's quiet. Barely audible. "Is this real?" she asks, and Rachel reaches for her, unable to stop herself. Quinn allows her left hand to be held, fingers worryingly cold.
"It's real," Rachel confirms, and something happens to Quinn's face. Her expression seems to relax and she breathes out slowly.
"Can we just - can we table this for a little while?" Quinn says, and she sounds younger than Rachel has ever heard. "I have all these thoughts, and I - just, it's a lot, isn't it?"
"What is?"
"Being told you can have everything you've wanted when you convinced yourself it would forever remain a dream."
Oh.
Wow. Okay.
"It's real, Quinn," Rachel tells her again, and, honestly, she's not sure Quinn actually believes her.
Rachel wouldn't say things return to normal, because they don't. Not really. But it's better than the cold silence from Quinn that's been a part of Rachel's life for the past few weeks.
They text, but that's about it. Quinn doesn't make any plans to try to see her, and Rachel doesn't mention it, either. Whatever steps they're going to take to rebuild their relationship are going to have to be prompted by Quinn, who now has the ball firmly in her court.
Rachel hears all the news from Santana, though, which is how she learns Quinn's book really is actually being released, and Quinn wasn't just saying that to buy herself time.
Not that she would have needed to, because Rachel would give her all the time in the world. Rachel is convinced she's not in any kind of rush, but she knows there's a very real part of her that wants nothing more than to claim Quinn in this moment, and just hold onto her.
What Quinn does send her is an invitation to her book release party in an email. It's being held on a Friday evening, and Rachel winces at the times, because she'll be able to attend only after she's done with her show. But she will attend. There isn't a chance in Hell she would miss it.
All Rachel really knows about the novel is that it's called Only Ever One Choice, and it's described as a romantic story of self-discovery.
Which.
Okay.
If Santana is to be believed and Rachel is... mentioned or even alluded to in some way in this novel, then they're all in for an interesting few weeks to come.
Rachel has never quite missed another human being the way she misses Quinn in the days that follow. Quinn feels just out of her grasp, just unreachable, and Rachel really struggles with the potential reality that she really has blown it.
But then Quinn will send her things like, saw this skirt in a store yesterday and it made me think of you, and things like, Jason is in a MOOD today and he's been playing Journey all day - save me!
It's - yeah.
It's a lot confusing.
Quinn also does a thing and bakes her some vegan brownies that she has Santana deliver to her, and Rachel doesn't know what to make of it. Even Santana looks a little perplexed as she hands over the container.
"Maybe she's still processing," Santana offers. "We both know she can be an emotional baker. Cooking is basically therapy for her."
"She hasn't said anything to you?"
"Just that she's stressed out about Friday and that she hates having to separate eggs for her recipes."
Rachel blinks. "I don't remember her being this strange."
"She's always been strange, Berry," Santana says. "You were just too enamoured to notice."
"So, now, what's my excuse?" Rachel asks, because she's pretty sure she's still enamoured, if not more.
"You've recognised your enamourment - "
"Not a word."
" - and now you're seeing things a little more clearly."
Rachel rolls her eyes, peeking into the container and getting a whiff of chocolate. "She's still stupid cute, though."
"Keep telling yourself that."
"I will."
Santana gives her a look, before a smirk spreads across her lips. "Better yet," she says; "you should tell Quinn that."
While Rachel's sure Santana didn't really mean anything by the instruction, Rachel takes it to heart, and she retreats to her bedroom to draft the perfect message of thanks to Quinn.
Well.
Maybe calling it perfect is relative.
Rachel: Thank you for my brownies! They smell so good; can't wait to try them! You're stupid cute for doing that 💛
Quinn takes only a few minutes to reply, and Rachel's heart stutters in her chest when her phone buzzes. She's in the middle of making herself some coffee to pair with a brownie, and she automatically reaches for her phone.
Quinn: Excuse you - I'm always stupid cute
Well.
Rachel can't really dispute that.
Quinn: There's actually a very unusual ingredient I put in there that definitely wouldn't normally go in a brownie. Reckon you can guess what it is?
Rachel isn't going to think too hard about her next reply, because there's no point. If she's going to make sure Quinn knows exactly where she stands, then very little about their interactions should change.
What's more striking is that she probably would have sent the same kind of message before they found themselves in this whole mess.
Rachel: And what do I get if I guess correctly?
And then Quinn says -
Quinn: Anything you want.
Which. Yeah.
This is, apparently, a game not only Rachel is playing.
Rachel: You're either overly confident I would get it right, or you're trying to tell me things are back on the table.
Quinn: So, you're saying there's nothing you want? (And I totally see that song reference in there, Berry).
Rachel huffs our a breath, because she's sure Quinn is being purposefully difficult just because she can, and Rachel is here for it.
Rachel: Go on a date with me.
Quinn: Guess, first.
That's not a no.
Rachel reaches for one of the brownies and gives it a critical sniff, as if that'll be the giveaway. It smells just like a brownie, though. She takes a bite, and it tastes just like a brownie, as well.
Damn.
Rachel: You ARE overly confident, aren't you?
Quinn: I promise, if you actually guess correctly, I will give you anything and everything you want.
Rachel's breath catches.
Rachel: Now, that's just mean, dangling something like that in front of me. (Is this my only chance?)
Quinn: Oh my God. At least attempt a guess, Berry 😂
Rachel: Give me a clue.
Quinn: What do you taste?
Rachel: Brownie.
Rachel: Healthy brownie.
Rachel: The texture is a little different, but it tastes and looks and smells like a brownie. I think you overestimate my palate, Quinn.
Quinn: Actually, I'm pretty aware of just how talented your tongue is.
Rachel actually chokes on the coffee she's just sipped, and she almost dies alone in her kitchen. Wow. Okay. Quinn just said that.
Rachel: You're dangerous.
Quinn: I'm also still waiting.
Rachel: As am I. What's my clue?
Quinn: Say please.
Rachel glances over her shoulder, suddenly feeling as if every eye would be on her, just knowing what's going through her head at the moment. But there's nobody in the room. She's alone in the apartment.
And she's pretty sure she's flirting with Quinn.
Well, this time it's actually on purpose.
Rachel: PLEASE
Quinn: No need to shout, Berry. I can hear you just fine.
Rachel: You're an idiot.
Quinn: But I'm your idiot.
Rachel: Are you?
Quinn: I think we both have it on good authority that I've always belonged to you.
Rachel: I'm just making sure nothing has changed.
Quinn: I promise you, Rachel Berry, that nothing has changed. Not for me.
Rachel: A lot has changed for me.
Quinn: And that's why I think we've both needed this time to adjust to just what that means for both of us.
Rachel: And what does that mean?
Quinn: Ask me again.
Rachel's heart stops and starts, a slow smile spreading across her face. There is an obvious shift in the tone of their messages, and Rachel isn't going to hide from it.
Rachel: What's the unusual ingredient in the brownies?
Quinn: Rachel.
Rachel: Go on a date with me.
Quinn: What's the unusual ingredient in the brownies?
Rachel: Quinn.
Quinn: Are you going to be there on Friday?
Rachel: I wouldn't miss it for the world, Quinn. You know that.
Quinn: There you go again making assumptions about what I do and do not know.
Rachel: Go on a date with me.
Quinn takes a full minute to reply, and Rachel eats two brownies in that entire time. Stress-eating or something like that.
Quinn: Yes.
Rachel barely has time to register just what that means before Quinn is sending another message.
Quinn: I'm heading into a meeting now, but I'll see you on Friday, okay? We can talk some more. Have a good day, Rach 😘
Then.
Quinn: It's lentils, by the way. The unusual ingredient.
When it comes down to it, Quinn wouldn't admit to being nervous. She already knows there's nothing she can do to stop the book release, and she doesn't think she would if she could, anyway.
It's happening, and now she's going to have to deal with the consequences.
On her big day, Quinn meets Jordan and Kylie at the restaurant that's hosting the book release early, and the three of them spend a few moments toasting to Quinn's upcoming success. It feels big and monumental and just the start of what could prove to be a promising and fruitful literary career.
Judy and Santana arrive as soon as the event is scheduled to begin, and then the room starts to fill up with people Quinn doesn't actually know. People from Kylie's office, other authors from the publishing company, other friends and spouses. Kurt and Blaine arrive eventually, and then Jason, Jessica and Baheya.
The event is already in full flow when Kylie finds her and introduces her to a handful of book reviewers and some reporters. Quinn answers questions about the book, as well as about herself. Her past, her current life, her ambitions. She talks about what it's been like transferring some of her own experiences into novel format, and there really isn't enough alcohol around to get her through how much of a journey her own self-discovery was - and still is.
Jordan steals her away, eventually, and hands her a chute of champagne. "Drink," he instructs. "It's almost time for our speeches."
Quinn almost forgot about those. She sucks in a deep breath, her free hand smoothing over the fabric of her dress along her left side. "Can't you just talk?"
Jordan shakes his head. "They're all here for you, anyway."
Isn't that a wild, wild thought?
"You have a few minutes, though," he says. "So, maybe finish that drink and then talk to your mother."
Quinn gives him a very particular look. "Now that you're done flirting with her, you mean," she points out.
Jordan's smile is full of mischief. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he innocently says, and then slinks away. She watches him go for a moment, and then uses her brief moment free to check her phone.
Right now, only the people involved in Rachel's production are left to arrive. Rachel. She made sure to let Quinn know she would be coming straight after her show, with Jasmine, Frankie and Alec, and then also made sure to remind Quinn not to get too famous before she got here.
Quinn also sent Tom and Denny an invitation through their joined personal assistant, Crystal, but they had another event to attend. Denny did make sure to schedule a lunch with Quinn for the upcoming week, so Quinn isn't too sad they're missing this. Crystal's supposed to attend in their stead, but she hasn't yet introduced herself. Quinn is weirdly eager to meet her, finally.
Quinn is still standing there when Santana appears at her side and throws an arm over her shoulders. Their respective heights make it rather uncomfortable, but Quinn doesn't complain.
Santana looks just left side of tipsy, but her voice sounds very serious when she says, "Please tell me you told her."
Quinn can barely look at her, because they both already know Quinn has done no such thing. They also both know the 'her' Santana is referring to is Rachel Berry, who has been the subject of a lot of Quinn's art. Recently, sure, but also from high school. Before she was even aware what it meant to be so fixated on another girl.
Santana sighs. "Sure, Quinn, just blindside your maybe best friend with how much you've been pining after her since we were teenagers."
"It's just a story, Santana," Quinn says, and she's been saying the same words all evening. There are aspects of her own life, sure, but the story is largely fiction. A way for her to explore her attraction and affection for a girl she was convinced she would never have.
And now.
There's a chance.
For the first time, she's worried the novel won't be well-received by Rachel. What if it ruins things? What if it puts too much pressure on them? What if they fail before they've even started?
Before she can spend too much time worrying about that, Jordan steps up to the podium to begin his speech. It includes an embarrassing anecdote about one of Quinn's first lessons with him, when she challenged his opinion on A Streetcar Named Desire, and then proceeded to argue that the character of Blanche made the most sense to the student population.
"I think, even then, I knew she would prove to be someone special," Jordan says, and Quinn can't contain her blush, ducking her head so nobody can see. "Not just because she's a fantastic writer or an admirable student. Not even because she's so good with the younger students or that she is always so present when she's in class, but because she cares enough about her work and the world to speak. Her mind, of course, but also up for others. About anything and everything.
"This work we're here for is something I know she's wanted to say for a long, long time and, I, for one, am proud and extremely privileged to be with her on this journey towards getting her very important message across." His eyes meet Quinn's, holding her gaze. "This is all for you, Quinn," he says, sincere. "My dear, enjoy every second of it."
There's a bout of applause that has Quinn blushing to the roots of her hair, and she wants nothing more than to remain exactly where she is. Unmoving.
Santana eventually has to push her forward, and Jordan gives way for Quinn to take his place at the podium. She's spent a few hours trying to come up with the right words to describe how she feels in this moment, but those particular words have alluded her.
Santana might call her lame for it later, but Quinn really just thanks everyone for coming out to be a part of what she hopes is just the start. She thanks her family and closest friends for being with her through her journey, and she dedicates the novel to all the people who have felt just a little lost in their lives.
Then, at Kylie's instruction, Quinn reads a short excerpt from the novel, chosen to be the words meant to entice readers to purchase the entire book.
Quinn thinks she's chosen wisely.
Ashleigh blinks. "Oh, my God," she says. "You're totally coming out right now."
Mikaila drops her gaze, blushing. "I'm not entirely sure what I am, exactly, but I'm aware enough that I don't classify as straight," she admits, comfortable with at least that much. "I've spent the last year or so trying to make sense of that; figuring out how to accept what that means for me, in terms of my past, present and future."
It's been a lot to deal with.
Losing her father was traumatic, recovering from her own injuries was also traumatic, and figuring out the person she was becoming wasn't even whom she was meant to be was its own trauma, as well.
It still is.
"I realised that there were three girls in my past whom I managed to develop feelings for and just didn't realise it until I stopped and really thought about it." She swallows. Here goes nothing. "And, you are one of those girls."
Ashleigh continues to stare at her with something like disbelief. Not for what she's actually saying, but for the fact she's saying it at all.
Mikaila clears her throat. "But I think you already know that, don't you?"
Ashleigh remains silent.
"You've always known," Mikaila adds. "Just like so many other people in my life who rather just left me to struggle instead of helping me figure it out."
"Mikaila."
The applause that follows is louder than anything Quinn expected, and she doesn't think her blush has dissipated even once. Her heart is beating just a little too fast and she knows - knows, without a doubt, though she can't explain how or why - her life is only going to get better from this point.
She steps down from the podium and right into her mother's arms. There were times when Quinn was convinced she would never get to have this, but Judy is here and she's smiling like the proud mother she says she is. Quinn believes her. After everything, it's impossible not to.
It's maybe half an hour later that Frankie, Jasmine, Alec and Rachel arrive together, and Quinn spots them immediately. She's in the middle of explaining some of her stylistic choices to a fellow author when the four of them enter the restaurant, and Quinn's words get stuck in her throat. She clears it, and then forces herself to finish her sentence before planning her escape.
Quinn gently excuses herself, and starts moving towards where Rachel has just found Santana and Judy. She hugs Quinn's mother with only the slightest hesitation, and Quinn knows it's based on her assumed thoughts of Judy's opinion of her. After everything they've recently been through, she expects Judy to have ill-feelings towards her.
She's a little silly, really, because that's never been the case.
Quinn has to dodge a few people, murmuring her apologies as she crosses the room. Her eyes are still on Rachel when the brunette notices her approach, her own sentence trailing off. Rachel beams at her, and then she's on the move, as well.
Quinn is a writer, you see, and even she couldn't have written it better.
Or worse.
Because, before she can reach Rachel across the room, another body steps into her path, and Quinn has no choice but to stop. Frozen in her tracks. Disbelief in her expression.
Quinn's mouth opens, voices her confusion. "Julia?" It's almost surreal to be this close to her. To have her here when all of Quinn's dreams are about to come true. Because Rachel is right there.
She's right there.
"Quinn," Julia says, eyes never once straying from Quinn's face. "Hi."
Quinn blinks, caught off guard. "What are you doing here?" she asks, because this is the last thing she needs. Not when she and Rachel are on the cusp of finally getting it right. Not when they're so, so close.
Julia's head tilts a little to the left, which is an action Quinn used to find endearing a long time ago. "Oh, Quinn," she says, and smiles as if Quinn is the one who's misstepped. "You invited me."