Author's Notes: Special thanks go to Mike Ownby who did a lot of nitpicking and logic-fixing this round to make it fit to post. It has honestly gotten to the point where I refuse to look at a draft chapter for a moment longer, send it off, and get it back with helpful commentary that makes me want to work on it again.
The more Quinn thinks about it, the more she realizes that things will have to change. And since Marley doesn't have any idea about what's going on in Quinn's head, it's all up to her.
The most important thing, of course, is controlling how her (now dangerous) crush affects her interactions with Marley. Quinn finds detachment the appropriate way to go when dealing with something as irrational and inconvenient as her feelings.
Everything would be so much easier if Marley could stop being Marley, thankyouverymuch.
But that was impossible. Marley couldn't be less Marley, just like how Quinn couldn't be any less of a gay mess around her – and Quinn had tried.
There was always freezing her out, like Quinn had done with Rachel. But Quinn quickly dismissed that thought. She was making a fresh start in a new city in the fall, and she would like to have fond memories of this summer – and Marley – to carry with her.
So all she can do is smile, pretend everything is fine, and that she has never felt anything deeper for Marley than friendship.
The sun is out when they leave the Field Museum (and Sue). To make things easier for their itineraries (and nerves), they've split the planning for their three days in Chicago. Marley took charge of day one, Quinn the second, and they've agreed that the third day will be spent at Navy Pier and its environs.
Much to Quinn's amusement, Marley's day seems suited to a child rather than an impending college freshman. She gets a smack to the arm when she says so.
"I don't insult your choices, Fabray," huffs Marley. "Just for that, you're buying me another donut later."
"I've created a monster."
Marley ignores her. "Donuts are way more fun when you don't have to knead the dough and make the cinnamon glaze from scratch. And fry them without the hot oil jumping everywhere."
Quinn blinks. "You know how to make donuts from scratch?"
"Sure! My mom taught me 'cause we had a request for them once." Marley smiles at her. She seems to have completely forgotten that she was mad at Quinn. "I could teach you, if you want."
Instantly, Quinn's traitorous mind goes to thoughts of Marley standing behind her in the kitchen. She has her hands over Quinn's as she shows her how to roll out the dough, her body pressed into every inch of Quinn's…
Quinn croaks out a "sounds nice, thanks". She points out a balloon seller close by, and quickly buries her face in her hands when Marley's attention is diverted.
Well, so much for detachment.
Apart from her body's insistence on betraying her, it's a lovely summer's day to be out. Even though there is no shortage of grade school field trips, families on vacation, and people just out to enjoy the sunshine, it's easy for Quinn to ignore them all and focus on Marley.
It doesn't take much. Marley is a constant hive of activity, pointing out sights for Quinn, making comments on everything and anything, and asking random little questions that seem easy enough, but Quinn has to mull over.
Like: "What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Wrong answers only."
Quinn is startled into a laugh. "What?"
"Have you played this game before? You're only allowed to give the wrong answer to the question."
"No, because I'm not five," replies Quinn dryly. "You realize that since there's only one correct answer, I could tell you my favorite ice cream flavor is burnt car tire and you'd have to accept it?"
Marley sticks out her tongue at Quinn. "I was hoping you'd say something like raspberry ripple, but whatever makes you happy, I suppose."
"Raspberry ripple? That sounds pretty nice. You don't like it?"
"I've never tried it," admits Marley. "I saw it on an ice cream parlor's summer special menu back in Wichita Falls."
"Okay, then it's my turn to ask you a question. Would you rather have a donut or an ice cream right now?"
Marley gives a little shriek of outrage. "Quinn, that's not fair! First you got me craving a donut, and now all I can think of is ice cream in this heat."
Quinn shrugs, unrepentant. "You could have just said both, but you didn't. You did that to yourself. I have no sympathy for you."
They pass a large boulder and Marley stops dead in her tracks. "Look! It's the Olmec head!"
"The what?"
Marley grabs Quinn's hand and drags her around the boulder. It takes Quinn a while to stop focusing on Marley's hand (she gets better with practice) and on the boulder – which isn't a boulder, after all. From the front, it's a large stone sculpture of a man's head wearing what appears to be a flat helmet.
"The Olmec people? Like the Mayans? Though I think they were more famous for football and not human sacrifices," says Marley, quickly consulting Wikipedia.
"Lovely." Quinn admires the weathered stone sculpture. She looks around for the plaque and spies it on the ground, a short distance in front of the sculpture.
"This head is at least 2,000 years old," announces Marley. "It was a gift from the governor of Veracruz."
"I know."
"You do?"
Quinn kicks the plaque lightly with her foot. "Says here on this ancient Wikipedia post."
"Ha, ha. You think you're so funny." Marley waves at Quinn. "Come over here, we're taking a selfie with Mr Olmec."
Quinn smiles. She goes to stand on the other side of the stone head, smiling obediently at the camera. The camera flashes, and Quinn starts to walk away – only to be pulled back by the ball of her jacket. "Now some goofy shots," Marley commands.
"What?"
"Serious face now," orders Marley, and presses her lips together.
Quinn doesn't comply immediately. "Quinn," Marley whines.
"This is ridiculous," mutters Quinn, but makes a stern face anyway. She glares at the camera, channeling her best Head Cheerio.
"Terrifying," says Marley, examining the photo. "It makes me wanna wet my pants. I love it."
Quinn laughs. "Most of my Cheerios would have thought you were insane."
"I'd actually be insane if I tried out. I don't have the discipline and work ethic like you guys, not even mentioning I don't have a single athletic bone in my body." Marley checks her phone. "C'mon, we won't have time for both the planetarium and aquarium if we don't hurry."
Quinn snorts ungracefully. "Please. You wake up at the crack of dawn to help your mom make canapes. Cheerios is all of the discipline and hard work and none of the food." There is a part of her brain now that pictures Marley in the Cheerios uniform. Quinn suffers in silence.
"I was trying to be nice," Marley insists. She's pressing her lips together in a poorly-disguised attempt not to laugh, so Quinn isn't fooled.
Quinn quickens her step. "Anyway, I have no problem hurrying. Athlete here, remember. I was just going slow for your benefit."
Marley sputters in outrage. They take turns speeding up until it breaks out into a hilarious sprint up the front steps of Shedd Aquarium. "I… win," Marley gasps, putting her hands on her knees.
She got ahead of Quinn by a hair because Quinn let her, but Quinn doesn't say that. "Only because you cheated," replies Quinn instead. She's not even out of breath, and she knows Marley knows it.
"I need every advantage I can get to be able to compete against you."
Still bickering, Quinn and Marley join the queue for tickets. As she reaches for her purse, Quinn remembers something. "Hey, let me buy the tickets and you can pay me back later," she says.
"Why?"
"I've got a discount."
Marley blinks, surprised. "I didn't know they had discounted tickets."
"Leave it to me," instructs Quinn.
When it's their turn, Quinn says: "Two, please, for Chicago residents." She takes two IDs out of her purse and hands it to the ticketing agent with a winning smile.
Marley's eyes bug out of her head, but Quinn pretends not to notice.
The agent glances at the IDs, nods, and punches in the discount. "Have a nice day, girls," she says, handing them their tickets with the IDs and the receipt.
Once they're out of sight of the ticket office, Marley makes a grab for Quinn's purse. "How did you – ?" she starts.
Quinn looks around before handing her one of the IDs. It belongs to Melissa LeGrant, twenty-five, who lives in Chicago, Illinois. Melissa also has Marley's face.
"How did you –?"
Quinn grimaces. "Santana made them for me before we left. She made a whole batch 'cause she was planning on using them to sneak into bars. She made you one as a 'Sorry I Bailed Out At The Last Minute, Bitch' gift, in her words." She squints at the picture. "I think she got your picture from the school yearbook."
Marley squints too, but it is directed at her. "I'm assuming you've got an entire stack of cards in your purse?"
Quinn laughs. "God, no. This is the same one I used to buy that beer the other day," she says, holding up the other ID. It belongs to a girl named Emily Stark who looks shockingly identical to Quinn. "Unlike Santana, I'm not planning larceny on a grand scale to need a whole array of IDs."
"What's next, fake passports?"
"God, I hope not. You never know with Santana, though." Quinn glances at Marley. "You're taking this rather well."
"I've had time to get used to your criminal activities." Marley looks at the ticket in her hand. "Plus, I'd be lying if I didn't think that $20 is a lot better than $40."
"Yeah." Quinn gives her a small smile. "If it's any consolation, I intend to pay full price for everything once I have an income."
"It really isn't." But Marley smiles back, and leads the way into the aquarium.
The aquarium is (predictably) crowded with kids. They outnumber the harrassed adult chaperones and teachers, and there are plenty of interesting things jostling for the kids' attention. The result is a giant game of pinball where Quinn and Marley (and other adult guests) are the bumpers.
Quinn manages to tug Marley out of the way of an excited boy. She glares at him until he runs back to the safety of his teacher.
"Thanks," says Marley.
"No problem." Quinn releases Marley immediately. She sticks close by, however, in case of further dangers.
Most of the children are clustered around a large circular tank, their faces pressed to the glass. Quinn waits for a space to vacate, and pulls on Marley's elbow. They squeeze as close to the glass as they can, giggling.
The aquarium is full of colorful inhabitants that are way more interesting than Quinn's county fair goldfish. She starts to understand the appeal of aquariums and exotic fish as she watches the sleek shapes dart through the water.
"Quinn, look!" Marley squeals, grabbing Quinn's arm. "Over there, behind the pink coral reef."
Quinn squints where Marley is pointing. She holds her breath as a sea turtle glides serenely past, unconcerned by the other fish. Underneath the turtle, a manta ray emerges from the sand and takes to the open water.
It's magical. Quinn is mesmerized.
As mesmerizing as the tank is, they have a schedule, and many more mesmerizing tanks to see. Quinn darts a casual glance at Marley, who's still holding on to her arm, eyes wide as she watches the fish swim in shimmering circles.
Quinn doesn't have the heart to tear her away. She gently clears her throat and says: "The aquarium has other fish too, y'know."
Marley blinks at her. "I know, meanie." She moves away from the tank, but doesn't let go of Quinn. "Let's go."
Quinn walks close to Marley. She doesn't want Marley to let go. Unfortunately, they're forced to split when a school group walks towards them.
Quinn plays it cool, walking back to Marley as soon as she's able. "I got you a map," she says, handing the brochure to Marley.
"Lies," replies Marley, "we both know the map's for your sanity so you know what I'm skipping."
"Indulge me."
Quinn thinks they may escape the humiliation that was the Grand Rapids Art Museum's gift shop this time. But Marley lets out a gasp when they pass the aquarium's shop and the racks of stuffed toys inside, and Quinn knows her fate is sealed.
"Go on," says Quinn, "but don't expect me to come save you when you can't choose one."
"I think I can handle myself," says Marley loftily. She makes a beeline towards the basket of stuffed sharks.
Quinn watches her go with equal parts fondness and exasperation. Marley is impossible to pigeonhole; one moment, her childish enthusiasm rivals Rachel's, the next, she is anything but childish. Complex simplicity. Quinn mentally berates herself for how ridiculous her train of thought has run.
She wanders through the gift shop, waiting for the inevitable call.
"Quinn." Marley's voice is hesitant.
"No."
"Helppp." It's degenerated into blatant whining, now, and Quinn shouldn't be finding it cute.
"What did I say?" asks Quinn. She puts down the book she was browsing.
Marley sighs. "You were right and I was wrong. Please save me, or we'll never make it to the planetarium today."
Quinn gives. Of course she does. She walks over to Marley and surveys the motley crew Marley has lined up in front of her. "The sea otter," she says.
"You're sure?"
"Positive." Personally, Quinn prefers the plush turtle, as she had been rather taken by Nickel the sea turtle and her story. She also thought the turtle looked pretty cute, with its sewn-on smile, button eyes, and huggable body. But Marley had squealed endlessly over how cute the sea otters were, and the plush she had in front of her was adorable with big black eyes and soft fur.
"Second choice?"
"The turtle."
Marley beams at her, then puts away all the sea animal plushes save for the turtle and sea otter. She takes them to the cashier and pays for both.
"Two, huh?"
"Yep." Marley hands the turtle to Quinn.
"What?"
"It's a souvenir, Quinn. Nickel will brighten up your dorm and remind you of the stack of fake IDs that got you into the Shedd Aquarium for half-price."
Quinn laughs. "If you keep buying unnecessary stuff for me, you'll go broke before the trip is over."
"Unnecessary? How rude. Nickel is a pillow and friend and cushion." In softer tones, Marley continues: "No, seriously, just accept it."
Quinn pulls out her fake IDs again for the Chicago resident discount at the Adler Planetarium; Marley shoots her a look that's part exasperation, part gratitude. They only get two dollars off, but Marley doesn't seem to care, so neither does Quinn.
As they enter the hall for the show, Quinn can't resist saying: "You know, we could've saved a ton of money by driving somewhere isolated for stargazing."
"You're just being mean because we didn't get as big a discount for here as we did at Shedd."
Quinn laughs. "I'm gonna be a struggling college student for the next four years of my life. You never know, that extra $20 could be the difference between that box of instant ramen and starvation."
"You're so dramatic. You should major in drama."
"Funny."
"I'm partly serious, though; I think you could be really good at it. Not a regular actress, but a… thespian," Marley says triumphantly as she hits on the word she wants. "Then you'd move into teaching after a long and illustrious career."
"Thanks for the free career guidance."
"You can thank me when it actually comes true."
Quinn shakes her head. Truthfully, that's a career path she's already seen for herself, but she thinks she might skip the stage altogether. She loves performing, but she's too fond of her books.
"Actually, wait," Marley is saying, "I don't think I've asked you what you were gonna major in at Yale."
"Drama," says Quinn, deadpan. "According to my guidance counselor."
"Ha ha."
"I was thinking of English," relents Quinn, taking pity on Marley. "Or comparative literature."
"Comparative literature?" Marley furrows her brow. "Wait, is there actually a major where you compare books?"
"In a nutshell, yes."
"Sounds perfect for you."
"Thank you, I think. After a week of knowing you, I'm not sure that's a compliment."
Marley shrugs. "I'm not offering you any explanations. Take it or leave it, Fabray."
An angry voice from the row behind them shushes them. Marley and Quinn both giggle but quiet down as the theater goes fully dark, and the show begins.
Quinn hasn't been to a planetarium before, let alone a planetarium sky show. She's a little apprehensive, despite reading the brochure and being reassured by the technical specs of the show and facilities. And despite knowing what to expect, how long the show is, and that it's just a show…
… she still tenses when the planet Jupiter looms out of the darkness.
Quinn feels Marley shift beside her, but the other girl says nothing.
Slowly, Quinn starts to relax and enjoy the show. Her knowledge of the solar system has been limited to everything that's been covered in high school science, as well as what she's read in her books, so it's refreshing to learn more and in scientific detail.
Quinn leans over to Marley. "Definitely better than driving to the middle of nowhere for impromptu stargazing," she whispers. Marley snorts, and the angry voice from behind hisses at them to shut up.
Throughout the show, Quinn fights the urge to look at Marley. She keeps her eyes focused on the show, but fails miserably with her thoughts.
They've spent a week together, with another to go. It's ridiculous that she's in so deep so quickly, but Quinn can't make her mind see logic.
Maybe she'll call Santana and whine about it – safely out of Marley's earshot, for sure. Quinn thinks she might actually die if Marley overheard everything like it was the plot of some trashy TV show.
God, she's tense. Her neck feels rigid from all the effort of not looking at Marley. Quinn takes a few deep breaths, using a technique she learned from her time in the Cheerios to calm herself.
The sun is setting as they step out of the planetarium. Quinn feels invincible. It feels strange to be so content with a day that she had no hand in planning.
"Remind me again what's next," says Quinn, who knows perfectly well what's next.
"Dinner," says Marley. "But look at this!" She practically runs towards the railing separating the walkway from the water. They can see the Chicago skyline from here, the setting sun causing the buildings' reflections in the water to change color. As they watch, the city lights come on.
Quinn rests her arms on the railing. She loves water, always has; it calms her like nothing else does. "You know, one of the reasons I loved Cheerios was going to Atlantic City."
"What?"
Quinn laughs. "Lima's inland, so I didn't get to see water unless I went camping with my dad. Nationals were in Atlantic City, on the pier right next to the beach." She looks down, watches the lake water lap at the concrete wall. The sight, as well as the soft rushing sound soothes her.
Marley moves to stand beside Quinn. Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn can see her face in profile. "There was a lake just outside of the town I grew up in," Marley begins. "We went there on a school trip once; something about ecology and the water cycle? I don't even remember. I was more excited about the lake."
Quinn chuckles softly. "Did you fall in?"
Marley scowls. "How did you know?"
"Whenever I hear these kinds of stories, someone ends up falling in. I made a lucky guess."
"Figures. You've got something against me, haven't you?"
If only you knew, thinks Quinn. Aloud, she says: "I've done nothing but comment on what I've been noticing over the past week."
"A week? It's been that long?"
"More or less, yeah. Time flies, doesn't it?"
Marley leans back. A breeze rolls in, ruffling her hair, making her shirt tail flap. "Yeah, it really does. It didn't feel like a week at all… this trip has been amazing so far. More than I'd ever imagined."
Because Quinn is a sucker for punishment, she goes ahead and asks. "What did you imagine it to be? Can't be anything good, since Santana got to you first."
"No!" Marley lets out a loud guffaw. "First impressions don't matter all that much to me, to be honest. I mean – you never know anything for sure 'til you go and do it yourself, you know?" She tucks her hands together on the railing. "This is the first time I'm going out on my own – technically. It feels like the first day of the rest of my life. It's exhilarating."
Quinn thinks it's poetic. "I think I know what you mean."
Marley straightens up. "Hey, there's a bench over there. Let's go sit."
"What about dinner?" Quinn protests, laughing a little.
"The weather's way too nice not to sit out here and enjoy. I won't starve if we're a little late, I promise," Marley says.
It's impossible to turn down an invitation like that. Quinn sits down and watches the sky go from orange-red, to violet, to deep indigo. The summer heat recedes just as quickly, thanks to the cool breeze coming in from the lake, and Quinn finds her denim jacket isn't as warm as she'd expected it to be. She shifts, pulling the jacket around her.
Marley notices. "Hey. You cold?"
"No," Quinn says reflexively. When Marley scoffs at her, Quinn adds: "Sorry. Knee jerk reaction. Just a little, but we're going indoors soon, so it's fine."
"I have a sweater in my backpack if you want it."
"It's okay," says Quinn, but Marley's already rummaging through her bag, pulling a cozy-looking sweater out. It looks very Marley; the pattern faded from multiple washes, worn through in some places. Quinn knows it'll be as comfortable as it looks.
"Marley, I'm already wearing a jacket," she laughs. "How am I gonna put that on?"
"Put the sweater on underneath your jacket. Or ditch the jacket. I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life." Marley has a half-smile on her face as she offers the sweater to Quinn.
Quinn makes a last-ditch attempt. "Don't you need it?" she asks, nodding at the flannel shirt Marley has over her T-shirt.
"Nah. I just need to button this up, see…" She buttons it closed, and rolls down the sleeves of the shirt, buttoning the cuffs as well. "Done."
"Your flannel is thinner than the sweater and jacket."
"It's flannel. I'm warm, don't worry; I run hot-blooded," Marley jokes.
She clearly does, judging from the color in her cheeks Quinn can see. The park lamps have come on, bathing the area in warm yellow light. But Quinn's fairly certain she's the same, thanks to her traitorous imagination. "If you sing, I'm gonna leave you out here."
"Don't worry, I can control myself."
"We should get going," Quinn insists. She stands; after a moment of indecision, she shucks off her jacket and puts on the sweater. The jacket is tied around her waist.
"Nice. Very preppy."
"Hush, you," says Quinn. The sweater smells like Marley's shampoo. She simultaneously regrets and doesn't regret putting it on. "We should get going, c'mon."
Much to Quinn's surprise, Marley veers off the street into Chinatown. "You feel like having Chinese?" Quinn calls after her.
"It smells so good, Quinn!"
Quinn has to agree with her. Clouds of steam escape a nearby noodle shop when a customer opens the door, filling the air with the scent of ginger, frying garlic, and chicken broth. But she can't help but to be apprehensive; the closest Quinn has come to Chinese food is at Rachel's house whenever she stayed for dinner after school projects. Her father had never approved of any "foreign" foods when she was growing up.
Marley, she knows, is very knowledgeable about food. She's proved as much by picking 'famous' places (which Quinn has never heard of) to patronize. But it seems that she's also adventurous, which makes Quinn nervous.
"Do you like Chinese?" Marley asks.
"I've had it a few times," says Quinn uncertainly. Rachel and her dads didn't cook, and dinners when she was at their place always consisted of takeout containers of various cuisines they brought home. She won't say she hates it, but it's still not something she would willingly order.
Marley pauses. "Are you okay with this? We can always go someplace else."
Quinn considers it. "No," she says eventually. "This is fine. Awesome summer vacation, right?"
"Well, I promise we won't die," replies Marley cheerfully. She finds a table near the back and sits down.
Quinn eyes the greasy table and indifferent staff nervously. "Do you like Chinese food?"
"Yeah," says Marley enthusiastically. "Mom and I love food. We don't always get to eat out, but we do like watching all those YouTube cooking videos."
"Cool."
"We'd tried cooking some dishes at home before, but the nearest Asian supermarket is still kinda far, and we had difficulty finding some of the stuff we needed." Marley shrugs. "Mom's dying for me to move to New York and visit some of the places we saw on food blogs."
"Oh, right; New York is pretty diverse."
Marley smiles at her. "You're not that far away; we'll go try some exciting stuff when you come visit me."
And there it is again. Quinn admires Marley's quiet conviction that their friendship will endure past this trip – friendship being the key word, of course. "Maybe you should start a YouTube channel for your food adventures."
"People won't want to watch me eat. They'll be watching and wondering how I function without caffeine," says Marley self-deprecatingly.
Quinn laughs. "I'd almost forgotten about that." She focuses her attention back on the greasy menu, careful not to let herself be caught staring at Marley. "Do you know what you want yet?"
"I haven't got a clue what most of the things here are," replies Marley, deadpan.
"... You could Google stuff?"
"Nah, I think I'll ask the waiter to recommend me something," says Marley, setting her menu down. "Or ask for the house special. The majority of this place's patrons can't be wrong, right?"
Quinn blinks. "You're adventurous."
"You've seen me eat my weight in greasy diner food and pancakes, Quinn. I'm sure I can handle Chinese food."
"That's true," says Quinn, wrinkling her nose. She's of the opinion that Marley's regular diet is tougher on the stomach than an exotic Chinese dish would be.
Marley waves at the man standing in the corner of the restaurant, smiling eagerly as he makes his way over to them. "Hi," she says, "what's your house special?"
"Sesame pork noodles," he replies.
"Are they spicy?"
"We can make it non-spicy if you want."
"Nah, I'll have it as-is." Marley turns to Quinn, who mulls over her order before deciding on a sweet-and-sour pork on rice and a boba tea.
When the waiter leaves, Quinn blinks in surprise. "I didn't know you like spicy food."
"I'm not sure if I do either."
"You're joking."
Marley shrugs. "Are you gonna help me if I'm defeated by the evil spice?"
"You're kidding, right? I helped you with the postcards and the plushes. You owe me big time, Rose."
"I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Quinn shakes her head. She is spared from replying when the waiter returns with Quinn's drink.
"You got boba tea?" Marley asks. She looks a little pink, but Quinn thinks it's because it's warm inside and her flannel shirt is still buttoned all the way up.
"Yeah." Boba tea is one of Quinn's guilty pleasures, after a trip to Columbus with Brittany and Santana. She was glad to see it on the menu.
Marley looks at the drink; Quinn doesn't miss the longing look Marley shoots at it. "That looks nice."
"Do you want a sip?"
"Oh, no, no!" Marley's eyes are wide. "I'm good. Really."
"Really?"
"Okay, maybe one sip."
Quinn pushes the plastic cup across the table to Marley, who happily sips it. "Mmm," she says, chewing on the tapioca boba with relish. "You want some seafood?" She opens her mouth. "See, food."
"That's disgusting. You're a barbarian, and a week of my positive influence hasn't had any effect on your appalling manners," says Quinn lightly.
"I'm just hungry. And excited for dinner. And excited 'cause we're in Chinatown in Chicago, eating real Chinese food. And hungry." She pushes the tea back at Quinn.
"You said hungry twice. Do you have more than one stomach? Are you a cow?" Quinn pushes the tea to Marley again. "I think you need this more than I do."
"You know, that would explain a lot…"
Quinn unwraps her disposable chopsticks, balls up the paper wrapper, and chucks it at Marley's face. It bounces off her cheek. Marley makes a distressed noise and retaliates with her own wrapper. It wasn't balled up tightly enough, and sails off-course. Marley makes another distressed noise. Clearly unhappy with her loss, she retaliates by pushing the tea to Quinn again. Quinn lets it stay on her side of the table.
The waiter interrupts with their food. Marley stares down at her bowl excitedly. "It looks good!"
Quinn eyes the red-tinged noodles warily. "It looks spicy." It smells of danger, very much like Santana's mom's famous homemade extra-spicy salsa, but Quinn doesn't say so.
"I could like spicy," Marley insists stubbornly. "It smells really nice." She sniffs, and immediately her face goes pink.
Quinn has built up a tolerance for spicy food from plenty of dinners at the Lopez residence. She's learned to appreciate stir-fries and dim sum from dinners with the Berrys. But she wouldn't eat whatever Marley is taking a big bite of. She watches Marley warily, her boba tea hovering in front of her face to hide her trepidation.
The reaction starts slow, with Marley's cheeks going a deeper shade of red. "Wow," she says, fanning her face, "just wow."
"Is it bad?"
"No," says Marley. She takes another bite.
Quinn shrugs with feigned nonchalance, and goes back to her food.
"Okay, fine, it's spicy."
Quinn slides the boba tea to Marley with deliberate slowness. Marley shoots an aggrieved glare at Quinn, who looks away, expression faux-angelic.
Marley relents, and takes a long draught of boba tea. "I'm dying. It's so good, but it's so hot."
"No one is good at eating spicy food at first. You have to build up your tolerance." She won't laugh at Marley and trick her into eating extra-spicy enchiladas like Santana did. Instead, Quinn gives Marley a little half-smile, and offers her sweet-and-sour pork to her. "Have some of this? It's really good."
Marley's eyes flicker. She seems to recognize the gesture for what it is. Slowly, she reaches for the spoon and takes a bite. Her expression changes. "Hey, this is pretty good."
"I'm right most of the time," says Quinn teasingly. "You should trust me more often."
"Ha ha. You're modest, too."
"You wanna order a drink of your own?" Quinn asks, watching Marley's face turn dangerous shades of crimson. The boba tea is already half-empty.
"Nah. I'm good." She flashes Quinn a cheesy thumbs-up, which Quinn snorts at.
Shaking her head, she stands up and grabs Marley's noodles (Marley lets out a muffled, "Mmmph!"), replacing them with her food. She digs into Marley's noodles. They are spicy, but not unbearably so; they're just past the upper threshold of Quinn's tolerance, and she has (the remains of) her boba tea to balance it out. "Mmm. These are pretty good. No wonder they're the house special," she says placidly.
"Quinn! Give it back here. I've got to train up my spice tolerance, right?"
"Not by annihilating your tastebuds." Quinn's eyes sparkle with mirth. This is something she can do for Marley. "Here, put a little sauce on the rice and mix it up."
"I can't believe you stole my food," says Marley, sounding mildly exasperated. "Don't you want this back?"
"I like yours better," lies Quinn. "I'll give you my boba if you let me keep the noodles."
"That's not… it's hardly a fair trade," protests Marley.
"Then buy me another boba. You already got your juvenile germs on that one," says Quinn, and adds in a stage whisper: "Seafood indeed."
Her stomach burns pleasantly. Quinn sighs, content with her decisions. "Where to, now? Back to the motel?" she asks Marley.
Marley sighs. "Part of me wants to, but…" She casts a longing look at the park, the street lit exterior of the Adler Planetarium in the distance. "It's such a nice night, and I am kinda full. I wanna walk all the rice off."
Quinn knows her well enough to recognize the reluctance in Marley's voice. "We can go for a walk," she says, and Marley lights up. "It's still your day, after all, so your call."
"Awesome," says Marley, and speeds up her pace. The summer night has gotten colder, so Quinn doesn't take off the sweater. Marley, much to Quinn's horror, has rolled up the sleeves of her flannel again. She pauses to unbutton the top two buttons of the shirt, tongue peeking out of her mouth as she concentrates. It's a full-time effort for Quinn not to stare at her.
"Aren't you cold at all?" grumbles Quinn, deliberately not looking at her.
"No?"
"You're a scientific enigma."
"That's what my mom says." Marley looks up. "Hey, look at that big bright star up there!"
Quinn smirks. She's learned that Marley is terrible at banter, and is equally terrible at changing the subject to distract from her terrible banter. But she plays along. "What, the moon?" Quinn asks innocently.
"You doofus," Marley says, and dissolves into a fit of giggles. "Okay, fine, I'll admit it. How did you know what I was gonna say?"
"You date Sam Evans and you'll pick up a few things whether you like it or not."
Surprisingly, the mention of Sam affects Marley, completely unlike the last time they talked about boys. "Oh?" she says, and falls silent. It's a little too dark to see her face clearly, and Quinn assumes she's thinking about something else.
Really, they should spend less time in the dark. Not being able to read every single emotion on Marley's face and thus extrapolate Marley's thoughts and feelings is a major handicap for Quinn.
Quinn clears her throat. "Yeah," she says, a belated response to Marley's comment. She's interpreting it as an invitation to elaborate. "We're still friends. I think we work better that way."
"Really?"
The one word answers from Marley are making Quinn nervous. Just before she can say something, Marley adds: "How did you know? Like – that you didn't like him that way?"
Quinn's heart beats faster. "He kissed me after a date," she says, quietly. "It was a nice kiss, really, and he seemed so happy that I kissed him back. But I was talking to San and Brittany afterwards, and they didn't seem very impressed." Quinn frowned. "They said it should be more than just nice. I had no idea what they were talking about. It was just sweet and I liked kissing him."
"It wasn't until much later when I found out that it's not supposed to be just nice. It's supposed to be… more." For someone who read a book a week, she was having trouble putting it in words. "You're supposed to want the other person all the time. To feel their absence when they're gone, to drown in them when they're with you but still not get enough." She cleared her throat nervously. "That applies to kissing, too."
Marley is close enough for Quinn to hear the soft exhale. "And you didn't feel any of that with Sam?"
"No."
"How did you find out what it's supposed to be like?"
Quinn feels trapped. She's not ready to come out, in every sense of the word; and especially not to someone who she's only known for a couple of months. Someone who she's been crushing on for less than a week. "Rachel told me," she deflects. It's not an outright lie – Rachel was responsible for her now-profound understanding – but it's not the truth, either. Quinn is satisfied with her answer.
A part of Quinn wishes Marley would sense her discomfort and drop the subject, as she's done a few times before. But there's another part of her that wants to follow this thread to its dangerous end, tempted by the slim chance of what might happen. "Where's all of this coming from?" she asks, giving a short, self-conscious laugh.
Marley stops walking. It takes Quinn a moment to notice, but she doesn't immediately turn around. "Marley?"
When no answer is immediately forthcoming, Quinn turns around to see Marley standing right behind her, expression unreadable. She opens her mouth to apologize, afraid she's said something wrong –
Which is quickly forgotten when Marley closes the distance between them, leans forward, and kisses her.