A/N: Day 4! This one was a doozy to write for some reason. Rachel sees her ex at a bar and asks the blonde woman sitting next to her to pretend they know each other. And, well, things ensue. Hope you enjoy!
Day 4: On a Date
Rachel's taking a sip of her margarita when she sees him.
Brody. Her ex-boyfriend, ex-fling, ex-strand of hookups, ex-friend with benefits, ex-whatever you want to call him, is currently walking through the entrance to the bar that Rachel has been drowning her sorrows in alcohol in for the past hour.
Right when she's about to turn around, grab her things, and leave, he spots her. Their eyes meet. Rachel panics. He begins to walk in her direction, and she knows it's too late to avoid him. She needs an out, and she needs it quick.
Her eyes dart around her, and they land on a blonde woman sitting a seat away from her. She's not one to typically approach strangers in bars, but she heard the woman making conversation with the bartender earlier, so at least Rachel knows that she's not a complete madwoman. Unless she is, then Rachel is royally screwed.
At this point, she has no other options, and she really doesn't want to have to talk to Brody for longer than necessary.
This is a terrible idea, Rachel tells herself as she scoots over a seat and taps the woman on the shoulder. The woman turns around, and–wow. She's gorgeous. Someone this pretty couldn't possibly be a serial killer, right?
"Yes?" The woman asks. Her voice is husky, deeper than Rachel was expecting, and it throws her for a momentary loop. Then, she realizes she has been staring silently at this woman for far too long while Brody is rapidly approaching them.
"Hi, this might seem really weird, but my ex just showed up, and I really don't want to have to talk to him too much, so if you could just pretend that we know each other, I would really appreciate it." Rachel says all in one breath. The woman looks amused, which isn't a terrible sign, but she would love any sort of confirmation. "Oh, and my name is—"
"Rachel!"
Brody walks up to them, and they both spin around in their seats to face him. He's sporting a mustache that he didn't have when they were together, and Rachel is two seconds away from telling him that it looks bad when he speaks before she can say anything.
"Rachel, how have you been?" Brody asks.
"I've been great." Rachel lies. "Oh, Brody, this is…" She trails off, realizing she doesn't even know this woman's name. Luckily, the woman is game to play along.
"Lucy." The woman says, and Rachel instantly commits the name to memory. "And you are?"
"Brody. Rachel and I knew each other back in college. Pretty well, I might add." He says confidently, and Rachel has the overwhelming urge to punch the smirk right off of his face.
Rachel rolls her eyes and mutters, "Not anymore."
Brody ignores her comment and looks at Lucy. "And how do you know each other?"
Rachel looks at Lucy, too, wondering what she's gonna say. Lucy looks to her as if seeking permission for something. Rachel doesn't know what, exactly, but she gives her a slight nod anyway. For some reason, she trusts this woman, and that thought alone terrifies her.
Lucy smirks after Rachel nods, and she simply says, "I'm her girlfriend."
Brody's jaw drops, and Rachel can't stop the grin that's forming on her face. It certainly wasn't what she was expecting Lucy to say, but it definitely gave her the reaction that she was hoping for.
"Yeah, this is my girlfriend. I'm bisexual. Don't you remember?" Rachel laughs. "Or did we not know each other that well after all?"
"No, yeah, I remember, of course," Brody stutters out, much to Rachel's delight. "I just, well… I thought that was just, you know, a phase."
Rachel is fuming, and she's about to go off on him when Lucy speaks before she can say anything. "I can assure you it was definitely not a phase."
Lucy smirks, grabbing one of Rachel's hands and interlocking their fingers, and Rachel's heart beats rapidly in her chest at the feeling.
Brody looks between the two of them awkwardly. "Oh, well, alright then. I'll see you around, Rachel."
"Hopefully not!" She calls after him as he walks away and takes a seat at the opposite end of the room. Rachel looks at Lucy, an amused expression on her face. "Thank you so much, Lucy."
"Quinn." The woman says.
"Sorry, what?"
Running a hand through her hair, Lucy explains, "My name is Quinn. I mean, it's my middle name, but that's what I go by. Quinn. I just didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing that."
"Right, well, thank you, Quinn." Rachel says, liking the way the name feels on her tongue.
"I take it you two didn't end well?" The woman, Quinn, asks sincerely.
"You could say that," Rachel says, "It was really just a fling, but after I ended it, he called me for weeks afterward, refusing to take my 'no' as an answer."
"That's tough. At least now you have a girlfriend to keep him away." Quinn winks at her, and the sight of it is unbelievably sexy to Rachel. Quinn continues, "I have to admit, you saying you're bi was not the follow-up I was expecting when I claimed to be your girlfriend."
Rachel laughs and shrugs her shoulders. "It helped solidify the lie, didn't it?"
"Oh, definitely." Quinn agrees. "It's nice to play the fake girlfriend for a woman who isn't straight for a change. I'm used to doing it for my straight friends when we go out, so this is a nice change of pace."
There's a beat of silence, allowing Rachel to process Quinn's spoken (and unspoken) message. Rachel takes a moment to observe the woman, her blonde hair gently falling around her face, her eyes shimmering with mirth, slight grin on her face. She's wearing a leather jacket over a white button-up blouse, tucked into a pair of black pants. Suddenly, Rachel, in her jeans and blue sweater, feels very underdressed. Still, Quinn did her a huge favor, and Rachel needs to repay her somehow.
"I don't suppose I could get you a drink?" Rachel asks, "To say thanks. And maybe because Brody is still sitting here and watching us."
Quinn eyes her curiously, and Rachel feels like she's being scrutinized. After a moment, Quinn simply says, "Alright," and Rachel is overjoyed.
As she flags down the bartender and orders Quinn another gin and tonic, Rachel realizes that they are still holding hands. She pulls her hand away, noting the brief look of disappointment on Quinn's face that quickly fades into indifference. Then, Rachel realizes that she knows absolutely nothing about this woman beyond her name. She needs to fix that.
"How old are you?" Rachel blurts out before she can stop herself.
"Twenty-four." Quinn answers, and Rachel is taken aback. "And you?"
"Twenty-two." She says, resisting the urge to say she's almost twenty-three. For some reason, the slight age gap between them makes Rachel feel inferior, and she doesn't like the feeling.
"Are you still in college, or…" Quinn trails off.
"No, I graduated last spring. From NYADA. I'm a performer. Well, trying to be, at least." Rachel rambles, "I'm actually here right now because I didn't get a spot in the ensemble of a show I auditioned for, so, here I am… and I'm now realizing that I'm talking way too much about myself when I should be asking about you."
Quinn chuckles as Rachel nervously takes a sip of her drink. "No, it's alright. I'm enjoying this. It's cute."
Rachel blushes, trying not to overanalyze her use of the word "cute."
Quinn continues, "But since you asked, I'm in my second year of grad school at NYU."
"What do you study?" Rachel asks.
"Creative writing."
"Wow," Rachel says. It certainly was not what she was expecting. And she knows the prestige of NYU's MFA program. "Were you in New York for undergrad too?"
"No," Quinn answers, "I was in Connecticut. At Yale."
If Rachel was feeling inferior before, it was nothing compared to what she's feeling right now. Here she is, talking to this gorgeous blonde, older than her, who graduated from Yale and is now studying at one of the best grad schools in her field. And Rachel? She's here, sitting in a bar by herself because she didn't book an ensemble gig that she auditioned for between her shifts at the diner near her apartment.
"That's really impressive, Quinn." Rachel says. "Did you grow up in Connecticut? Or New York, maybe?"
"I'm from Ohio, actually." Quinn says.
"Really? So am I! What part are you from?" She asks.
"Bellville."
"I'm from Lima." Rachel says, and she can't believe they both ended up here, together, in this bar, today.
"Small world, huh?" Quinn laughs, taking a sip of her drink. "You said you didn't get a role in a show? That's why you're here by yourself tonight?"
Rachel takes a long sip of her margarita and asks the bartender for a second one. "Yeah, it was in the ensemble of Chicago. I don't do this after every missed audition, or I would end up a borderline alcoholic, but this one was the third rejection I got this week, and I had gotten down to the final three for the spot, and it just hit me harder than usual."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Chicago is a great show," Quinn placates her, "But they don't know what they're missing."
"You don't even know me." Rachel says.
Quinn scoffs. "So, what? I'm sure you're incredibly talented. You wouldn't have gone to NYADA if you weren't."
Rachel blushes and says, "Thank you, that's sweet of you to say. What brought you here tonight, by yourself?"
"I was actually supposed to be meeting this girl for drinks," Quinn says, and Rachel instantly looks around, thinking she's interrupting some sort of date, and feels awful about it, but Quinn continues, "But I texted her to cancel right after you tapped on my shoulder and asked me to be your fake girlfriend."
Rachel doesn't know what to think. "You have a date tonight?"
"Had a date tonight. That I cancelled."
"Oh," Rachel breathes out. "Oh, and I never asked you to be my fake girlfriend! That was all your own doing."
Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Semantics."
Rachel watches her carefully. "I'm sorry you missed out on your date."
"That's alright. Remember, I was the one who cancelled." Quinn assures her. "Besides, I'm getting to spend time with you instead. This is as good as any random date to me."
The implication that they are currently on a date together has Rachel smiling from ear to ear.
The rest of the night passes with little fanfare; Rachel gets to know Quinn, laughs at her jokes, blushes when she flirts. In Rachel's mind, it's everything a first date should be. The thing is, she's still not quite sure where she stands with Quinn or what this evening even means for them.
For Barbra's sake, she just met the woman. Rachel is probably reading way too far into this, but she truly can't help herself. Quinn is charming, witty, and so, so pretty. Really, she's so pretty that Rachel thinks it must be a crime.
It must be illegal for Quinn to smile like that when Rachel asks if she wants to share a taxi back to her place, and for her to bat her eyes like that throughout the entire drive to Rachel's apartment, and for her to raise her eyebrow like that when Rachel's phone starts ringing just as they pull up to her apartment.
"Sorry, I should take this." Rachel apologizes as she accepts the call. "Hello?"
"Hi, is this Rachel Berry? " A man asks on the phone.
"Yes, this is her." Rachel says, shrugging when Quinn asks her who is on the line.
"Hi, Ms. Berry. This is Dave, the casting director for Chicago." He says, and Rachel wonders why they're calling again. "An additional spot in the ensemble just opened up, and we would like to offer you the role."
Rachel squeals and restrains herself enough to say, "I accept," into the phone. Quinn looks at her, seeking answers, and Rachel just stares at her while the casting director keeps talking.
"Great! We will email you the details, but your first rehearsal will be next Tuesday. Congratulations, Ms. Berry."
"Thank you," She says into her phone before ending the call.
Quinn's eyes are wide, mouth agape. "Well?"
"That was the casting director for Chicago." Rachel explains. "I… I got the job."
"Rachel! That's incredible!" Quinn shouts.
Before she knows what she's doing, Rachel throws herself at Quinn to hug her. Luckily, Quinn hugs her back, wrapping her arms tightly around Rachel's back. Rachel leans back a little bit, meets Quinn's eyes, and kisses her before she can stop herself. For that brief moment, with her lips pressed against Quinn's, Rachel feels elated. Then, she pulls back.
"Shit," She says regretfully. "Sorry, I really shouldn't have… What are you doing?"
Quinn has grabbed her phone from her and is typing furiously. Rachel eyes her carefully; she trusts this woman, but she still is essentially a stranger and Rachel's not sure if–
Quinn kisses her. Rachel kisses her back, grabbing her jacket in her hands and pulling her closer. Yet again, Quinn's lips against hers feel like heaven, and Rachel wants to bottle this feeling up, so she can have it forever.
"Hey!" The driver interrupts, pulling them both out of their little bubble. "No kissing in my car. Get lost if you're gonna do that."
"Sorry, sir." Quinn says as Rachel flushes. Quinn hands her phone back to her, and Rachel's about to ask what she did on it when Quinn explains, "I sent a text to myself so we have each other's numbers. Now, get lost."
Quinn winks and shooes her away. Rachel kisses Quinn one last time before she grabs her things and leaves the car. At the slam of the door, the taxi speeds away, and Rachel sighs in relief. She opens her phone and reads the message Quinn sent.
I wanna kiss you again. We should go on a date sometime. A real one.
Rachel laughs, and a message comes in from Quinn. Are you asking me out, Rachel?
She types back, You sent that text, nerd. But I would love to see you again soon. Are you free tomorrow night? Same bar, at seven?
Quinn's response is quick. It's a date.
Rachel giggles and jumps around in delight. It's a date, indeed.