Chapter 7 – So Far Away

When Sam Evans got to school that morning, he had in mind to talk to Rachel, to tell her that he was not able to forget about the kiss they shared nearby her secret place, that he was moved that she trusted him enough to take him there. He had laid in his bed for hours, trying to dissect his thoughts and feelings. It was not easy. First because the motel room they had to move to after his parents had lost everything was not comfortable, and second because he had to share the bed with his little brother Stevie and his little sister Stacey. Nobody knew, of course. He still had his truck, but he felt he'd need to sell it soon, if his parents did not get back on their feet. But as he slowly drifted to sleep, all he could see was Rachel's face, that was all he could think about. When he woke up, he realized he wanted to be around her. He was not sure in what capacity, and how this would play out, knowing they both just got out of pretty intense relationships with people they thought they were respectively in love with. Funnily, those two people were getting together.

He knew he needed to speak to Rachel and to tell her that he felt things for her – things he probably never felt for anyone. He thought he'd loved Quinn, but after his kiss with Rachel and the time they had spent in tutoring, as he got to know her, he guessed maybe he hadn't experienced true love with Quinn. Maybe it was not with Rachel either, they were only seventeen after all. What did they know about love? There was something about Rachel that attracted him, arguably. Sure, Santana has been texting him non-stop since he broke up with Quinn, and Santana was one of the most popular girls at school, one of the hottest as well – but if he was honest with himself, she had nothing on the tiny brunette diva. Rachel Berry was all kinds of awesome, she was very cute, beautiful, considerate, extremely clever and was utterly kind-hearted. Her main defect? She wanted things too much and that could turn her abrasive. Sam had noted that about her.

As he was about to head towards Rachel's locker, he saw her enter school chatting, bickering and laughing with Noah Puckerman. That made his blood boil. She had forgiven Puck after all he did to her, in a nutshell. God only knows what number he played on her and what the hell he was referring to when he said he needed to take responsibility. The connection they had was radiating from both their bodies, their demeanours. Then, something happened that made Sam snap. He twirled her. He took her tiny hand in his own stupid hand and literally twirled her in the middle of the hallway. He was utterly disgusted. He was supposed to hold Rachel's hand and twirl her, and other things to her if he was totally honest. Instead, there he was, an idiot watching Rachel Berry giving Puck another chance.

Then he saw it in Puck's eyes, for the first time, the care – dare he say it, the love – in his eyes. He never thought he'd see that from Puck, ever. Puck whose reputation consisted of being the ultimate sex shark, was wrapped around Rachel Berry's little finger. They have history, Sam thought, and know each other so well. At that moment, the resolution he'd taken the day before, to fight for Rachel, was all gone, forgotten. All that remained was the hurt, the anger, the jealousy, the treason – although they did not commit to each other and she hadn't done nothing as such, he couldn't help but feeling betrayed. Especially after what went down with Quinn.

During lunch, Santana Lopez approached him at his locker. He was fragile, with what was going on with his family, with Rachel, he just needed the comfort. Unlike Rachel, it would be easy with Santana, because he knew she wasn't the type of personality he'd fall for. She was just a girl he'd date for fun, and he also knew she wouldn't be serious about him either. They'd be each other's fun time away from school and troubles. He knew he wouldn't be emotionally committed to her, as he was to Rachel – although he was blocking that out for the moment. Against that background, he went for it. He gave in, finally, and began kissing Santana in the hallways. He didn't think much, he just thought it would numb the pain. The kiss was very Santana like, it was hot and she was a great kisser. It soon turned into a legit make-out session. Yet, all he could think about was Rachel. That kiss with her felt so much different, it was sweeter, gentler, conveyed so much more than that. Not that this didn't feel good, because it did – and it would totally increase in reputation to go at it with Santana Lopez. But, it was a fact: Rachel was in the back of his mind… until she reached his peripheral vision.

At first, he thought it was just a vision, his mind playing games with him. Then, when he saw her eyes flash with confusion and hurt, he saw as she retreated quickly. Their eyes hadn't locked, so she had hoped he didn't see her in the background – crucially, all he could see, was her. It is all it took for him to disengage from Santana's sweet lips. "Santana, sorry, I have this thing for my Spanish class that I forgot about, I'll see you later?" He pecked her quickly on the lips before he headed to the auditorium. He knew that's where he would find Rachel. Probably belting out a song about how much she hated him. That thought alone made him run without even realizing, he was frantic.

As he got in, he indeed saw her seated at the piano, she was playing a song he didn't know. Long ago, I reached for you and there you stood. Holding you again could only do me good. He had initially intended to rush on stage and beg for her to give him at least the time of the day. But as her voice kept singing, he was entranced. Her voice was, of course, a force of nature. No one could ever deny that. But the lyrics, the longing in them. And the softness, the fragility, the hurt, the delicacy. It was goldsmithery – only better – in motion. The precision, the accuracy of every single note, the way it sent little knifes to his heart – and apparently his legs and he couldn't get himself to move. Everything around him could've burnt, he would not have realized. There was only her. He understood what star power really meant.

He didn't even realize when she ended the song, tears on her cheeks, and someone else from the other end of the auditorium applauded and walked to her. "Rachel, that was extraordinary. I am going to say something stupid, but you improved and I didn't think it was something possible for you. Everything felt in place as it should have. This was outright professional. It had it all, the emotion, the precision, the technique – and the piano, I had no idea you played. You blew me away."

It was Mr. Schue. Hot was passing by and heard a voice he thought was familiar, but couldn't situate. He was spellbound when he saw it was Rachel. He remembered her being about technique, accuracy and strength, but the way she handled that soft pop slow ballad, the theatricality of it all was moving. "Thank you, Mr. Schuester," was all Rachel said. She did not really want to engage with a teacher who didn't see her beyond her voice.

"Rachel, I don't know what to say. I know we've all hurt you and I apologize for that. But would you consider coming back to Glee?" She nodded her head vigorously. "I don't want to seem conceited, Mr. Schuester, but I have no reason to. I can make it on my own when it comes to music and singing. The only thing Glee had for me, was being part of something special, of a close-knit group. But I was not really part of it, I was just an instrument. I refuse it. Now if you'll excuse me." As she hopped from the stage, Mr. Schue could see the tears in her eyes. So, did Sam who stayed in the back, hidden, heartbroken, kicking himself internally for what he's done to the tiny brunette.

"Alright Rachel, but do you mind me asking why you're so distraught? Did something happen? You know you can always come to me…" She chuckled sadly and interrupted him. "Nothing for you to worry about Mr. Schuester."

"I care about you Rachel, you were my Spanish student, and Glee student. It's only natural that I worry for you, when I see you crying," he held his hand to try and squeeze her shoulder but she was quick to move away from his hold and just told him, in a cold stone tone: "I think it's a little too late for that, Mr. Schuester," and she left him bewildered at the Rachel Berry he had in front of him.

Sam had seen it all, and while he only got a picture of how deeply Glee Club had hurt her, he immediately followed her in the hallways, picking her harm gently and tucking her into an empty class. She was about to scream for help when she saw it was him. "Oh, Samuel. Good morning. How may I help you? I think we don't have tutoring before 3 pm. Have I messed up my schedule?"

Sam was exasperated. Was she being serious right now? He decided to cut to the chase. "I saw you, Rachel." He fixed her with his intense blue eyes, and she felt herself slightly flinch at the sight of beauty in front of her "I saw you when I was with Santana, and I saw you, heard you in the auditorium, and then with Mr. Schue. Rachel, I never meant to hurt you."

"We don't have to talk about this Samuel, I…" He cut her, immediately, irritated that she was trying to avoid having a conversation with him. "Yes, we do. I kissed Santana. I am sorry. I don't know what has gotten into me." Rachel chuckled sadly, in between two sobs. "Why wouldn't you? She is gorgeous, even I can say that. She has the type of personality that can keep you on your toes, she sings superbly, she is very intelligent. She's so high on the food chain she cannot even look at me from her pedestal. I just wished you had given me a heads-up that you guys were together."

"Rachel, we weren't. I don't even know if we are. As for heads-up, the same you could've given me before you walked in this morning with Puckerman openly flirting and twirling all around." Sam was angry, and he couldn't help what he was saying. It was as if he had no filter and couldn't control what he said. "Sam, there is nothing between Noah and I, we're friends. Just friends." Sam scoffed, mad that she would consider him dumb enough to believe that. He knew what he saw, and with his experience with Quinn, he knew better than to trust a girl who invented excuses on the fly. "Friends, right. The same type of friends we were yesterday when we kissed? Do you do that with all your friends?"

Rachel was at loss of words. He might as well just have slapped her hard in the face. She recoiled physically, her back against the door, her hand on the doorknob, ready to leave and to cry her eyes out in the ladies' room. He had basically minimized what went down between them the day before, the connection she had felt, and called her a tease, an easy girl who would just kiss around. That's when he gave her the final short. "You know Puck will only hurt you and leave you behind, right? He'd never actually date a…" He stopped before he blurted the last word, horrified to see the lengths he would go to hurt back, just because she hurt him. That certainly isn't love, at least not the good version of it.

It was too late, though. Rachel is a particularly clever girl – he would know, she tutors him three times a week. She did guess the word that almost crossed his – abnormally big yet tasty lips – and finished his sentence. "A freak?" She pronounced the word with a sob breaking at the end, and new tears forming in her eyes. "Yes, I assume he wouldn't. And neither would you. I understand that, now. I'll see you at 3, Samuel." Then she was gone.

For the first time, Sam Evans discovered he had a violent side. He kicked in one of the chairs, so hard that his foot hurt – to a point he wasn't sure he would be able to properly practice football this afternoon. How did things go so wrong between them? His initial plan was to profusely apologize, grovel and eventually have a second chance. Instead, she told him that Puck and she were friends and all that came to his mind was how Quinn had lied along the same lines about helping a suffocating friend. Then, he just lost it and said awful things to her. He'd pushed too far. He was a wreck for the past few days between Quinn and his family falling apart, plus having to work to bring a bit of money while maintaining his efforts during school and tutoring. The pressure was too much and he popped off at worst possible time, with the person who deserved it the least. He had begun crying as soon as she bolted out, and he hadn't even realized. Despite it all, she was still willing to tutor him and help him improve his grades and help him through dyslexia. This girl was amazing, and he was the biggest jerk the planet even hosted.

He spent the two hours before tutoring, trying to think of ways to apologize to Rachel – to no avail. The session had lasted two hours, during which, each time he tried to address the topic, she avoided with elegance and subtlety with yet another exercise, yet another question, yet another explanation filled with nuance and depth. When the session ended, she told him, expressionless: "Next week, we're going to start on classic theater, and Mr. Robson will come by to assess your progress. I sent him my report already, as planned."

He looked at her with puppy eyes, trying to earn some sympathy from her. "Rachel…" She was quick to cut him. "Samuel, if what you are going to say is not related to your tutoring or your mild learning disability, I suggest you keep it for yourself," she scolded him, not daring to look into his eyes – knowing if she would, she would give in, and she couldn't. He would not fool her again. "Rachel, please…" Rachel shook her head. "I take it is not tutoring-related. I will see you in two days. Have a good afternoon, Samuel," and she left the room leaving him alone, for the second time in less than a day. The only difference is that she had time to regroup and this time, she left with all the dignity she could muster, running her hand through her shiny chestnut hair, in a sign of (fake) self-confidence.

As she was headed to her car, she heard someone call her name. She knew that voice all too well. Finn Hudson. She was mentally exhausted, going what she went through with Sam earlier had drained her, and gathering all the courage to go through that tutoring session professionally had taken a toll on her. "Rachel, hey, Mr. Schue told me about what happened in the auditorium. I'm sorry Rachel. He is as well, really. You should've seen him when he was informed you had switched Spanish classes, not to have him as your teacher anymore."

"Finn, Mr. Schuester never missed an occasion to ostracize me during my time at Glee Club. He was just an additional person who pretended to like me – he didn't even pretend that well. I, however, couldn't pretend was all fine and go sentarme en su clase de español come si fuera nada." * Finn was confused, his Spanish was rudimentary, at best, and he knew Rachel could go on and on in that language. "Anyway, he's sorry. We all are." She looked at him. "I am not coming back, Finn, ever."

"Fair enough. I don't care about that. I actually came because I saw you with Puck this morning. Are you guys back together? How could you do this to me, Rachel? You knew this was a sensitive topic for me, and yet you did. You did the one thing I cannot stand. How could you?"

Rachel couldn't understand the logic. He was the one who initially lied, who would be ashamed of getting caught with her in public, and now he was turning that against her to make her seem like the bad girl. The worst about it? He actually looked hurt. "Listen Finn, first, Noah and I are just friends. You remember when we were kids and Noah and I were best friends, and you actually hated me for taking your friend from you? Well, Noah and I talked and we realized we would like to try and be friends again. Just friends. Second, I don't own you anything, Finn Hudson. You lied to me about Santana, while everybody knew but me, and now you're with Quinn. I hope you two are happy – but you need to leave me alone."

Finn couldn't believe what he was listening, he was frantic. She was right, he technically was with Quinn, but he didn't know how that happened, it just felt easy and nice – and Quinn was head cheerio, she was popular, he was Quarterback, he was popular. It was only fitting they would get together during high school. But after that? He saw himself long-term with Rachel, they were endgame and he'd be damned if Puck stole her from him. "Rachel, I can't be with you now, but you do know that you and I, we're it, right? You're supposed to be mine."

Rachel scoffed before she busted in a humorless laugh. "See? That is exactly why I am not interested. Because you think I'll sit around and wait for you to finish your popular high school life until you settle for me. Well, Finn, I'm not someone you settle for. I'm better than that. And quite frankly, I'm better than you."

Rachel got in her car and started it, leaving behind her, a confused Finn. He had a lot of thinking to do. Was popularity that important as to potentially lose the girl he (not so) secretly loved? Until now, the truth is that he thought Rachel would always wait on him, because that's ever done ever since he gave her the time of the day. But he came to see that Rachel also had her dignity, her pride. He needed to do something about this – after he wins Prom King with Quinn at his side, he'd reconquer Rachel. Prom was in a couple of weeks, and he was so close snatching King – Rachel wouldn't move on in two weeks.

Later that evening, Rachel was sitting in her room with Noah, they were doing homework, listening to music and enjoying each other's company. It felt good, especially after a day filed with hurt and disappointment. Her mind couldn't help but wander back to Sam's words and cruel attitude, to Finn's words and entitled attitude. And then, she remembered the man currently sitting beside her on her desk, hadn't spared her either. Sure, he made amends and they were in a better place. But she was vulnerable, and she didn't think when she blurted: "Noah, why is it so easy for you guys to hurt me? Am I that terrible?" She broke down after that sentence.

Noah looked at her with hurt, self-hatred and utter shame. There was that gorgeous, kind, sweet girl, broken, next to him. It was his fault. The idea alone made him want to get to his knees.

I should've known better than to think I could erase ten years in a couple of days and a family dinner.

* Sit in his Spanish class, as if nothing happened.