She wasn't sure what Kurt or Santana's plans were for Valentine's Day dinner, but Rachel was willing to forfeit dinner with Brody as long as she could have a few hours to contemplate what had happened before she got on the subway heading home.
More importantly, to get rid of the feeling that Brody was a poor second choice since, apparently, she couldn't have Jesse St. James.
And that wasn't fair, since Jesse had never led her on to believe he had any romantic motives in participating in their vocal lessons, and even though he mocked Finn and avoided remembering Brody's name, he never really spoke of them with any kind of jealousy. Well... she couldn't be sure, since she knew Jesse hated Finn with complete disdain independent of their rivalry for Rachel's affections.
And Brody certainly didn't deserve to be thought of as second choice, since he was a nice guy and had been the first person to really be there for her in New York. He had already patiently gone through this with her regarding Finn at the start of their relationship, did she really want to rehash that old drama for a guy that was out on a date with some other girl right now, a girl who apparently deserved to get a dozen (plus one) long-stemmed red roses?
In fact, what the heck (because part of her Jewish faith was not believing in hell) was the deal with getting 13 red roses? That meant friendship. She would know, she had come up with her ideal flower arrangement at the age of ten after she was introduced to the magical world of flower meanings. Maybe it was mean and evil, but a part of her wished the girl Jesse was going to give the flowers to knew that and verbally beat him down for his ignorance.
Rachel glanced down at the bouquet of flowers in her hand, and, okay, it wasn't the most pathetic thing in the world. Most girls would probably kill to be the recipient of such beautiful flowers. So what if Jesse had gotten another girl a more traditional bouquet? She'd gotten flowers, too. And pink meant friendship, and she knew she was lucky to have a friend like Jesse, who was willing to put up with her eccentricities and ambition without making it seem like such a heavy burden. After all, Jesse had been back in her life for only about a week now, and already she felt the impact he had, from her singing to her confidence. She loved Kurt, she did, but he'd had no problem setting her up as competition for Midnight Madness. Jesse would never have done that to her: in fact, he seemed happiest when he got to hear her sing (he can complain all he wanted about her song choices, he wasn't fooling anyone).
Enough. Brody. Think about Brody.
And what you're going to tell Brody about your roses. Her inner voice said mockingly.
But figuring out what to tell Brody about the flowers wasn't the major problem, if she were honest. The bigger problem was evading Kurt and Santana from learning where the flowers had come from. After all, McKinley's gay mafia had startlingly alarming methods of getting information they wanted (especially Santana and all her free time) so she really couldn't put it past them to dig the information up. The fact that the bouquet was wrapped in paper with the flower shop's name on it was kind of a dead giveaway.
Rachel walked up to her apartment building, but not before she paused by the garbage bin just beside the front steps. She glanced at the flowers.
It would be easier to not have them around. Kurt and Santana won't have anything to question, she wouldn't have to lie to Brody, she wouldn't have to look at anything and be reminded that Jesse St. James gave her a bouquet of pink and white roses but bought another girl red roses.
But she'd never been the girl who chose the easy way. Not when she could have toned down her enthusiasm, her ambition, or her intent to be heard in middle school and high school. Not when applying to multiple colleges while waiting for feedback from NYADA.
Not when admitting that she'd been too scared of not having anything to show for her entire life led her to accepting a high school wedding proposal.
"Nice flowers." Kurt observed, the moment Rachel entered their apartment.
"Berry, I swear to God if you bought yourself flowers to make yourself feel better about being torn up about having feelings for Tub O'Lard and dating a man-bot, I'm gonna have to kick you." Santana told her from her place on the couch.
Rachel rolled her eyes. "A friend gave them to me."
"Extravagant friend," Kurt commented.
Rachel could only shrug.
"Hold on." Santana said, suddenly standing up and making a beeline for Rachel and the bouquet. "So you got flowers from some other guy that isn't Manwhore 2000?"
"Santana..."
"Must you, with the nicknames?" Kurt asked warily. "I thought Brittany made you throw out your notebook."
"It's a gift." Santana replied simply. "A gift that must be shared with the world."
Kurt shook his head, and turned back to Rachel. "I don't know about you, but if I were a guy..."
Santana coughed to mask her snort of laughter.
Kurt shot her a glare and qualified his term, "A straight guy, with a girlfriend, and said girlfriend showed up on Valentine's Day with flowers from someone else? I'd be pretty upset." He shrugged. "Especially since we all know how expensive roses are this time of year."
"Yeah..." Santana placed her hands on Rachel's shoulders and gave her a grave look. "Don't sex him up just to avoid questions about the flowers."
"Santana!" Both Kurt and Rachel cried in protest.
Santana rolled her eyes. "Bitches, please. We all know Tiny here uses physical affection to avoid deep meaningful conversation." Santana shot Rachel a pointed look. "Which explains why you and Hudson did nothing but make out senior year, since I bet you can't carry a decent conversation with Dough Boy."
"That's my brother." Kurt objected, making a face.
"I'm just keeping it real." Santana said matter-of-factly, releasing Rachel and returning to her seat on the couch. "And, Berry, I swear to God if you bring Man-bot here I will not be held responsible for my actions."
Kurt and Rachel exchanged a glance.
"His face needs rearranging." Santana said simply.
"What has Brody ever done to you?" Rachel questioned, placing the flowers on a nearby table and taking off her coat. She smiled at Kurt in appreciation as he took the flowers and put them in a vase she didn't even know they had.
"I don't like his face, that's all." Santana shrugged. "And anyone who dares to look me in the eye when I'm trying to make like facing Medusa kind of have it coming."
"To be fair," Kurt allowed, "I avoid looking Santana in the eye before she's had her first two cups of coffee."
Santana nodded. "Justifiable homicide, right?"
"I wouldn't go that far." Kurt replied.
"To answer your non-question, Brody is just picking me up." Rachel informed her roommates. "He didn't tell me what else he had planned."
"If you could avoid bringing him here, that would be great." Kurt told her.
Rachel turned to him, her expression tinged with betrayal. "I thought you liked Brody."
"I do." Kurt paused. "A little." He hastened to explain. "But Santana calling him a Manbot has its merits, among which is his tendency to walk around with nothing on. I like a well-built body as much as the next person, but I'd really rather some kind of courtesy for my retinas."
"It was that one time." Rachel retorted.
"You're clearly asleep when he gets up to get a glass of water at night." Kurt shuddered.
"Or catch SportsCenter reruns." Santana added.
"Fine, I'll tell him to keep his clothes on." Rachel sighed in exasperation.
"But that would ruin the very reason why you bother being with him." Santana remarked, flipping through channels on the TV.
Rachel turned. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning he's your personal sexbot." Santana replied. Off the following silence, Santana glanced to where Kurt and Rachel were staring at her. "Oh please, as if he's really more than a bed-buddy rebound. Or like anything Manbot 2000 says is even remotely interesting to anyone. Berry just likes him because he asks questions about her and likes talking about her as much as she does."
"I'm standing right here!" Rachel exclaimed.
"Whatever. You know I'm right." Santana said dismissively.
Kurt stared in Santana's direction for a beat, before he blinked and seemingly returned to himself. He turned to Rachel and smiled reassuringly. "She's just bitter because Brittany and Sam have all these Valentine's Day photos on Facebook and Twitter. I was never in a relationship with either of them-"
"You bearded up with Britts." Santana reminded, apparently able to hear them. "And you have a big ol' crush on Trouty."
Kurt winced at the reminder of both teenage indiscretions before he turned back to Rachel. "The point is, she's just being harsher than usual. I'm sure you and Brody have a lot in common and make for riveting discussions."
Rachel smiled at him. "Thanks, Kurt." She glanced at the kitchen utensils on display, indicating dinner in. "No plans for tonight?"
Kurt shook his head. "Adam and I thought to go out on a date tonight is to invite far more complications for such an early budding relationship like our own and opted to stay apart."
Rachel laughed. "Well, have fun with Santana."
"My excitement is beyond words." Kurt replied, deadpan.
Rachel leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I'm going to get ready. Keep him away from Santana, if Brody gets here early."
"I'll try." Kurt shooed her away.
Rachel retreated to her space in the loft, and dropped her bag to the floor. She took a deep breath, and focused.
Brody. Brody. Brody.
Not Finn. Not Jesse St. James. Brody.
Not to say that Santana was right, but Rachel could admit that her relationship with Brody had started as a rebound. She hadn't meant to, she'd only intended to strike up a friendship with the older boy, but he had persisted, and after months of basically being ignored by Finn Hudson, she'd given in. And officially breaking up with Finn included having to move on, and the best way to do that had been to date someone else.
Her problem was that her romantic entanglements always included potential as a leading man as a pre-requisite. And Brody - singer/dancer/actor Brody - had fit the bill. Sure, he was more of a dancer than anything else, but he was in NYADA, and that meant he was talented.
And she would know, she was talented too.
And she had been happy. She was in the city of her dreams, she was in a school that was basically a school for talented people, and she had a good-looking older boy who could fill the leading man role.
Yes, he wasn't as knowledgeable on Broadway or movie musical trivia, but she'd lived through that with Finn, so she could overlook that. He liked sports and talked about it as if athletes were better than Tony Award winners, but then she'd lived through that with Finn, too. He was a dancer, and had decided on that as a career, and as Brody once told her, he figured that if Channing Tatum can make a career as an actor/dancer, he could, too.
Like the world needed more Step Up movies.
She had been happy, even if she could admit that she had pined for Finn every so often, but she could easily believe she could live with this kind of happiness for a long time.
Up until a week ago.
Sitting in a coffee shop sharing stories and anecdotes with Jesse, telling him about her life in the big city, it had been the longest conversation she's ever had with anyone. She hadn't had to filter her opinions, didn't have to worry that he wouldn't get her obscure references, and she didn't have to worry that she was boring him, because Jesse understood. And she didn't have to feign interest in acronyms she never cared for - NBA, NFL, MLB, FGs, PFs, TDs - and the difference between the regular and post-seasons.
It had been a giddy feeling, and she'd felt it again on Saturday afternoon after a failed audition that hadn't been as heartbreaking as she'd expected.
If she were to be honest, the disappointment at realizing Jesse had another date tonight was almost at par as hearing Cassandra July answer Brody's phone.
And that was...
No. She wasn't going to do this.
Rachel finished getting ready, freshly showered and choosing what perfume to wear, determined to make the most of tonight and not wallow on thoughts of another girl and her stupid bouquet of red roses. If Jesse decided he could date other people, then so did she.
"Rachel, Brody's here!" Kurt called out.
Rachel looked at the mirror, and met her image's eyes. She paused briefly, thinking maybe she should reconsider going out with Brody when she felt like this, before remembering that Brody wanted her and didn't buy some other girl a bouquet of roses, and nodded to herself.
She joined the group in the open space that was their living room just as Brody was taking a seat beside Santana on the couch. Luckily (for him), he straightened back up when he saw her. "Hi."
She smiled at him. "Hi."
Brody Weston was tall, and well-built, and handsome, and he looked good in a casual suit. The way he dressed told her that at the very least, he put in a lot of effort in making himself presentable for this date.
He also brought peonies. Brody extended them to her. "For you."
"Thank you." She liked peonies. They were simple flowers, but not as depressingly simple as daisies. They weren't dramatic, though, and offered no major statements.
From the couch, Santana rolled her eyes.
"Let me put these in a vase." Rachel said, before she stopped and internally cringed. She didn't know how many vases were in the apartment, but she knew there was one in the kitchen, filled with long-stemmed pink and white roses.
"Let me." Kurt said quickly, sweeping in and taking the bouquet from her.
"Thanks, Kurt." Rachel said softly.
Brody's easy grin followed Kurt until his eyes fell upon the extravagant bouquet already in display. "Oh, hey. Nice flowers."
Nobody said a word.
Brody glanced at the three roommates when none of them took the compliment. He had been dating Rachel for a while now, and she's been living with Kurt the entire time; he didn't know Santana Lopez well, and she scared him a little bit, but she didn't strike him as being someone who was particularly modest. He got curious. "Whose flowers are they?"
The three roommates glanced at each other. Until, finally, all three of them spoke. "They're mine."
Brody's eyes widened. "Okay..."
"Oh for..." Santana groaned. "Berry got them for me and Hummel, okay? She thought we were pathetic not having a date this year, and tried to make us feel better. Yay."
Rachel almost wanted to kiss Santana for the save. And she said it so matter-of-factly that it defied argument.
"That was nice of you." Brody told Rachel, who could only smile weakly.
Yes, she was probably going to have to do something nice for Santana after this.
Brody took the jacket Rachel had in her hands, and held it up for her to put it on. Once Rachel had her jacket on, and had picked up her purse, Brody grinned at her. "Ready to go?"
Rachel nodded. She blew Kurt a kiss on her way out.
Santana and Kurt watched the couple leave, before their gazes slowly met.
Kurt quickly dived to block Santana's path to Rachel's room. "No."
Santana shot him a death glare.
Kurt cowered slightly, but he held on to whatever inner strength he had, refusing to move from where his body blocked Santana access to Rachel's room. "Santana, don't. She'll tell us in her own time."
"She's keeping secrets, Pale Face. That only leads to bad things." Santana warned.
"I know. But it's obvious she wants to tell us - she wouldn't have brought those flowers up to show us if she didn't - but just not now." Kurt told her.
Santana looked doubtful.
"Santana."
"My Little Pony..."
Kurt shook his head. "Please."
Santana glared at him some more, before she stepped back in annoyance. "Fine! But you suck for being polite about this. And she better tell us, or I swear..."
"She will. I know she will." Kurt assured her. He only allowed himself a sigh of relief when Santana retreated back to the couch.
He really (really really) hoped he wasn't wrong. Or else it would really suck.
And Santana would probably make his life miserable. And that would suck even harder.
So maybe he should figure out he was going to get Rachel to tell them. Or even just him, because then he would get to gloat to Santana.
He cast one more glance in the direction of the roses, and tilted his head to the side. He wondered who had gotten besotted with his best friend and was now the latest in her string of admirers.
The poor soul, honestly.
Those were pretty nice flowers, though.