A/N: I wanted to thank all of you that read, favorited, followed, and reviewed the first chapter. I do hope that you will enjoy this second chapter, and what will come next, as well!

P.S. There is going to be cursing in this story.

P.P.S. Still looking for a beta reader :P

FALLING FOR THE FRENEMY

Chapter Two

Have you ever wondered what genre would your life be, if it were a novel? Last year, I would have said that it was a tragedy. As I watched once again my reflection in the mirror, I realized that I was wrong.

My life was a dark, twisted comedy. What else could it be, with me realizing that I was harboring some sort of attraction for Santana Lopez, of all people, if the dreams I had of Santana and I making out in the Cheerios' showers were of any indication.

No, that wasn't it. That couldn't be it. The reason behind those dreams had to be something else, anything else. I could not be sexually attracted by Santana. I just couldn't.

Maybe, those dreams were caused by my hormones fluctuating after my pregnancy. Maybe Santana symbolized my desire to return to the Cheerios. Yes, that could be it.

"Right, and doesn't have an obsession with vests and the Journey." I whispered, annoyed at myself; trying to find improbable excuses wasn't going to help me figure what this was about. Taking a deep breath, I walked back to my bed, dropping myself onto the mattress, my eyes locked onto the ceiling as the first rays of the sun peeked through the blinds of the windows.

It wasn't just the idea of feeling attracted to another girl that was freaking me out; yes, that was already terrifying on its own, although I was no longer Russel Fabray's perfect little girl, raised to blindly follow his bigoted beliefs: the current me had grown a lot during last year, and I could handle a journey of self-discovery to understand if those dreams were just random fantasies, or if they hinted of something deeper about my sexuality.

I wasn't all that scared about what would others think about this: yes, my mother's reaction worried me, but she had changed so much in the past months; the Glee Club would have my back in any case; as the rest of the school, most of them were not there for me during my pregnancy, why would I care of their thoughts on this matter?

No, what really bothered me was that the protagonist of my sexually confusing dreams was Santana Lopez. Why her, of all people? Everyone would have been better. Heaven forbid, even Rachel would be less disturbing; at least, it would explain my obsession in bringing her down for almost two years.

It was not like I didn't know that Santana was attractive. I wasn't lying to Mercedes and Kurt when I told them that the girl was beautiful, and it was even more than that.

Back when the Unholy Trinity was still intact, I was always aware of how the guys reacted to Santana's presence: yes, I was often depicted as gorgeous as a princes, but there was something in Santana, the way she seemed to literally ooze sex appeal, that was irresistible for anyone.

I remember that I was annoyed by how sexual Santana acted, and believed my annoyance came from jealousy, and possibly feeling threatened by her. Looking at it now, could it be that there was something more?

An ironic smile stretched through my lips at the thought.

The thing was, I did not hate Santana. I was one of the few people, alongside Brittany, that knew a side of her that was usually hidden by her mean jokes, and her flirting: the girl was fiercely loyal and protective of the people she cared about (mainly Brittany, of course), she was funny, and way smarted that she let people believe.

And yet, our friendship had always been edging on the boundaries of rivalry and hatred; it was not only due to us competing for the spot of Captain, or the title of Mckinley High's HBIC, or for boys (I still cringed when I thought I wanted to battle her for Puck's attention, last year): no, what made our relationship explosive was that we both seemed able to see past our walls, to see each other's fears, insecurities, and of course strike hard to wound each other.

Santana pulled out the worst part of my side, and vice versa. By now, I had accepted that as an unchangeable fact, just like gravity: Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez, always at each other's throat. I was fine with that.

But what to do when you realize that you may have been harboring feelings for this same girl? I had no answer to that.

I sighed as I rose from my bed, and decided to push those thoughts at the back of my mind, for now. There was no solution I could think of, aside for waiting and hoping for this to settle on its own.

After all, there was a big chance that this confusion was going to fade away after another argument with Santana.

I was sure that, giving it a week, I would be back into fully hating Santana Lopez.

Possibly.

I really hoped so.

Do you really, Quinn?

"Are you sure you are ok, Quinn? You have been spacing out, again."

"What? Oh. Yes, I am ok, Kurt. I am sorry, what were we talking about?"

We were in Kurt's bedroom, getting ready for Puck's summer-end party. I was actually looking forward to meeting the rest of the Glee Club and catch up with everyone.

Santana included.

I cursed myself as I banished that thought from my head. For the whole day, I have been trying to keep my mind off from my former best friend and second-in-command, but failed spectacularly at it: every now and then, her face would pop up in my mind, her gorgeous dimples appearing on her cheeks as she gave me her trademark Santana Lopez smirk, as if to mock me for my thoughts.

I don't like her dimples. Shut up.

"I was asking you if you want to intervene before Mercedes kills Rachel, you know. I mean Finn's there too, but I am not sure he will be much of a help."

"Oh, right."

I chuckled. Mercedes decided to head to Finn's room, where Rachel and he (but mostly Rachel) had been singing almost non-stop for the whole time. That had escalated quickly with Rachel accusing Mercedes of being jealous of her superior talent, and now the two were yelling at each other, with Finn desperately trying to defuse the situation.

"I don't think there is a need for an intervention. The most probable outcome will be Rachel storming out the room, with Finn following her, and Mercedes coming back to us venting on this being year that she is eventually going to find a way to murder Rachel in her sleep." I answered, chuckling again. Those two were never going to admit it, but they respected and cared for each other. After all, Mercedes was the only one that managed to make Rachel give up a lead.

Kurt joined me in laughing "That is true. Although, that doesn't explain why you have been having your head in the clouds for the whole afternoon."

"How did you manage to get over your crush with Finn?"

I could see the worry in my best friend's eyes turning first into confusion, and then into curiosity and excitement "Oooh! Is Quinn Fabray fancying someone?! That is an unexpected development! Tell me all about your new beau!"

I sighed. I blurted out the question without thinking. To be honest, my situation and Kurt's own were not exactly comparable. I was not even sure if I had a crush on Santana, or what that made me, and I definitely did not plan to do as Kurt did last year with Finn. Still, both cases were of an unrequited attraction, at least, and I needed to talk with someone. Of course, I was not going to give Kurt specific details.

"I swear if Eva Peron thinks that the Glee Club this year is going to be a Finchel show I am going to-wait, did I hear something about Quinn and a new crush? What have I missed?"

And of course, now I had both McKinley's High gossip rulers to deal with. "It was nothing, Mercedes, I was just-"

"Come on now, girl. We are your best friends! You know you can tell us everything."

"Who is he? Please tell me he is someone new? Don't tell me it's Puck. Or Finn. Because you can do so much better than both of them, Quinn. But don't tell Finn I said that. We are supposed to be family now."

I couldn't help but smile at Kurt's words while images of my former boyfriends flashed through my mind, followed by Santana, her annoying but captivating smirk still plastered onto those soft, gorgeous lips as she pushed me against the wall and..

Ahem. Stop it, Quinn.

"Earth to Quinn?"

"OMG, you were totally thinking of him right now, weren't you?"

"I wasn't!" I answered, my cheeks flushing. Ok, I was, but whatever. Shut up. "Look, mine was just a hypothetical question."

"Riiight."

I glared at both of my best friends at their identical reaction, their smiles annoying. "We will be late for Puck's party. Let's go."

"Aww, come on now Quinn, we were just teasing you."

"Yeah, we will not make fun of you, just talk to us."

The look on my eyes made it clear that the subject was to be dropped. It wasn't exactly old Quinn Fabray's HBIC look, but it was close to it. Apparently, it was still effective, as Mercedes sighed and picked up her purse, while Kurt gave me one last funny look, like he was trying to put some pieces together.

"This party sucks."

"Mercedes is having fun." I whispered, pointing to Mercedes, who was sitting on a nearby couch, sharing it with Tina, both cackling and giggling.

We were in Puck's basement. After greeting each other and catching up, Rachel proposed to have a singing competition, but was shushed down by the majority. She did not sulk much, though, as she was now busy making out with Finn, on the other side of the room.

In the middle of the basement, Puck, Mike, Santana and Brittany were busy in another round of beer pong, with Artie giving an enthusiastic commentary.

Kurt and I were sitting on another couch. I was trying to find the courage to get back to my earlier question. It was not like anyone was focused on us.

"Mercedes is half-drunk, and so is Tina. Honestly, I expected some more drama. At this point, it is a shame that you and Santana managed to keep civil for once."

I rolled my eyes at his words, while I thought back to my encounter with Santana, when we arrived at Puck's. Even I was surprised how smooth it went.

I had just greeted Mike and Tina, having found out that they got together during summer camp, as they both attended Asian Camp. No wonder Artie looked heartbroken. Kurt and Mercedes' focus was on Tina when I noticed Santana approaching us.

I had to thank my poker face for not showing any reaction as I noticed what was different from pre-summer Santana. The surgeon that operated her clearly knew its craft: while I had been honest when I said that she did not need surgery, I couldn't deny that Santana looked even hotter, now.

My eyes glanced at her augmented bosom: her form-fitting, red tank top did nothing to hide her new, enhanced form, and I felt I had to swallow a lump down my throat. My heart was beating even faster, now. I didn't really plan what I would do or say once I met her, and now, I was sure I was going to make a fool of myself.

Well, that was going to happen, if the subject of my crush/attraction/whatever this was, wasn't Santana Lopez. As I said, she had a way to bring out a side of myself, like no one could.

As she approached me, her eyes twisted into a mean, challenging look, I could feel myself shift, assuming a similar expression on my face: it didn't feel forced as I did with Mercedes and Kurt, earlier on, but simply natural.

My glare was 100% HBIC Quinn Fabray when Santana reached me, and pointed at my body, smirking. I already knew where she was going to head.

"You have to tell me where did you buy that corset, Fabray. It makes you look like you never had Puckerman's lizard baby."

"I wish I could tell you, Santana, but this is just the result of hard work and a healthy diet. Not easy, but I wasn't desperate enough to go to a surgeon."

The buzz around us turned into deadly silence, as we did glare at each other. The tension was heavy within the air, as everyone (including me) expected this verbal duel to turn physical. To my surprise, Santana smirked. I could tell that my words did wound here, just like hers wounded me.

It made me wonder how different would things be, if we used our ability to peek into each other's worries to help each other, instead of doing this.

"Calm your tits down, Fabray. I just wants to ask you a question."

"What is it, Lopez?"

"I heard rumors you planning to get back into the Cheerios. Just wanted to make sure you knew, things aren't going to be the same as before."

"I am not interested in stealing your spot, Santana. I just want to get back in the team, that is all." I knew that she believed me, even before she started relaxing. Even the others around us (Mercedes, Kurt and Tina) seemed to let out relieved breaths, when I added, a challenging grin plastered on my lips "Besides, I do not need to be Captain to prove I am better than you."

I could almost picture Kurt's eye-roll at my words. I honestly didn't know why I said that. My focus shifted to Santana, as her smile widened, changing: it was not as mean as earlier, although it was almost sensual, teasing. Her pupils twitched in amusement as she spoke.

"Oh, you are gonna regret saying that. I can't wait for practices now. I am so going to enjoy having you under me this year, Fabray." she whispered, before leaving to go head down into Puck's basement.

Hello, butterflies. Please, keep flying within my stomach, it is no trouble at all. Just remember to pay the rent. I sighed as I tried to calm myself down without letting anyone notice the reason for my distress: if I didn't know any better, Santana Lopez just shot a sexual innuendo at me. Oh boy.

"Seriously, what is it about the two of you, that you are always at each other's throats?"

"I don't know, Kurt. I guess it is just how Santana and I work. Ours was never a normal friendship. We always seem pulled into tearing each other apart."

"Mmmh, I guess so. But, are you going to be okay?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, arching one eyebrow. I could see his features turning from concern into amusement, barely able to contain laughter.

"I mean, are you going to be okay, being under Satan for the whole year?"

I shot him a warning glare, and I was going to hit his arm when voices erupted from the middle of the room.

"WOOOHO! ADMIT IT LOPEZ, YOU ARE NO MATCH FOR THE PUCKSTAR!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, PUCKERMAN! Another round!"

"Aww, San, I don't want to play this anymore. It is boring."

"Come on, Britts! We can't let this cabrón get away with it!"

By now, the attention of everyone was on the four in the middle: it appeared that, so far, Puck and Mike had won all rounds of beer pong, which both amused Puck, and annoyed Santana; it didn't surprise me, at all: the girl had serious trouble in accepting defeat. It was actually one of the things we had in common: I definitely was a sore loser.

"You can find another partner, San. I am going to join Artie's for the commentary!"

I couldn't help but laugh at Santana's horrified expression as her game partner ditched her, and joined Artie; soon, it turned into rage as Puck continued to mock her.

"Come on, Lopez. I am sure you can find another partner willing to play with you. Unless you prefer to call it a night, and just admit that you got your hot latina ass kicked."

This time, the cringe in Santana's face was matched by my own: despite my friendship with Puck was deeper now, I couldn't help but feel that he really needed to tone down the crass for his own good. I did not dwell much on this, though, as I watched Santana searching through the room for a new partner: her eyes nearly rolled in disgust as she glanced at Finn, and then dismissed the cackling pair that was Mercedes and Tina. She moved past Kurt and then stopped at me.

Hell no.

"Come on Fabray, it is just a game! For once, pull that stick out of your ass, and come here!"

I hit Kurt in the stomach with my elbow when he started laughing. That was not funny. My expression was all I needed to answer Santana, but she didn't seem to get the memo. With a grin, she leaned onto me, whispering in my ear.

Hello again, butterflies. Oh, there are goosebumps too, now. How fun.

"Unless you are too scared to play, Fabray."

Honestly, that was so childish. Did she really think that this would convince me to play? I was not going to fall for such an obvious provocation.

Absolutely not.

"I cannot believe that you teamed up with Santana Lopez for a game of beer pong and that you two won 10 straight games."

"Is that surprise I hear?" I joked as we walked towards my car. It was late, and it was time to get back home. We stopped at my car, waiting for Finn to pass by with his own vehicle and pick up Kurt.

"I mean, I am not surprised at you, but at seeing the two of you actually cooperate. It is scary to think about what you two could accomplish if you were always on the same side."

"It was just beer pong, Kurt."

"True. And Satan was already tipsy from earlier games. I mean, she actually hugged you, back then!"

I rolled my eyes playfully, trying not to blush at the memory. After managing to win even the only game that we risked to lose, Santana had moved to hug me from behind, one hand firmly holding my stomach still, her face resting onto my shoulder as she shouted "Hell yeah, Q! Did you see that, Puckerloser? Esta es mi chica para ti!"

I was actually glad that I had to focus on my poor spanish knowledge to decipher Santana's words instead of thinking how much I enjoyed Santana's body against mine, her bust squeezing against my back.

Stop thinking about it.

"Anyhow, I just remembered that you asked me a question, earlier."

"What? Oh, right."

I finally managed to focus back to the present as I look into Kurt's eyes. There is a different look in his eyes, now. "You asked me how I got over Finn. Do you need advice on how to get over your new crush? Hypothetically." he adds, and I realized that he must have noticed the panic starting to surge through my pupils.

I honestly didn't know how could I have lived my whole life without Kurt Hummel before. Just like with Mercedes, I do feel like I could tell him anything, without fear of judgment. I knew that he had at least got a hint of what was going on, and yet, I was sure that he was not going to pressure me; instead, he would amuse me with my hypothetical nonsense.

"Okay then. Mmmh, it is hard to explain. From starters, I think that, deep down, I always knew that it was never going to be more than a crush on my side. Still, it took a pretty hurtful moment for me to get over him. It does still hurt, sometimes, but we are in a good place now. He is like a big brother to me."

I leaned closer to Kurt, linking my right arm with his left. Even though he seemed at peace, I could still see the hurt in his eyes as he spoke. With a smile, he took my hand in his, and continued.

"You really shouldn't ask me for advice, anyhow. I am sure your 'hypothetical' crush is not indifferent to you like Finn was to me."

"You don't even know who this person is, Kurt. How can you be so sure?"

"Quinn Fabray, do you have an allergy to mirrors? You are sensational. I don't need to know who this person is, but there is no one that could resist your charms."

I smiled, and rested my head on his shoulder.

"I don't really know what I would do without you, Kurt Hummel."

"Oh, you would do amazing, even without me. Just not as fabulous, of course."

I let out a sigh as I finished putting on my Cheerios uniform, and looked at the mirror. There I was, once again clad in my red, black and white armor. For a moment, I could almost fool myself into believing that nothing has changed in the last year.

But as I ran my hands on my shorter hair, I smiled. Things changed, and the hair was just the less important thing. Even wearing the uniform didn't feel the same: one year ago, it symbolized power, respect, being at the top of the food chain. Now, it was just a tool I was going to use, to be a beacon of hope, a protector for those I cared for.

I scowled upon recalling how Kurt got a slushie while doing an interview for Jacob Ben Israel. Apparently, neither Finn nor Puck was able to keep the rest of the football team in check. Well, things were going to change: I was going to have a chat with Azimio and Karofsky soon, for starters. Things were going to change at McKinley.

My attention snapped to my phone as it buzzed, and I noticed that Mercedes had sent me a message.

[Mercedes]What did you tell Coach Sylvester?

I looked at my phone, puzzled. Persuading Coach Sylvester into letting me back into the Cheerios had gone exactly as I expected; at first, she looked like she wanted to blast me off from her gym, then she made a stabbing comment about my stretch marks; after that, she listened as I mentioned that I could make so that she would have her confetti cannons again, then she told me to leave. An hour later, I had my shining new Cheerio uniform. Why was Mercedes worrying about that, though?

Nothing in particular, I just promised her I would help her get the funds for new, pricey equipment. Why?

[Mercedes]Someone has told Sue about Santana's surgery.

I froze as soon as I read the message. I could feel my phone buzzing again, but I ignored it. I already knew what did happen after that.

Sue would have stripped Santana from her Captaincy. Put her at the bottom of the pyramid.

A new captain was going to be nominated. I knew that there was only one name that would come to Coach's mind.

Mine.

The perfect plan to get everything back. In perfect Quinn Fabray's fashion.

The only problem was that I did not plan that. I did not want that. But the whole school wasn't going to believe that.

Santana was not going to believe that.

I need to find Santana.

I hurried through the girls' bathroom's doors, walking in a frantic pace towards the hallways of the school. Even in my distressed state, I noticed how people parted ways before me, just like the past. I did not care for that, not one bit. I only wanted to find a certain brunette.

I didn't consider that she would be searching for me, too.

A painful yelp escapes my lips as I feel myself being slammed hard against a locker room; stumbling, I tried to keep my balance, as my eyes took in the gaze of Santana Lopez's eyes: those pupils were twin black pools of pure hatred that scorched me.

"You know what is funny? That I fucking believed you. Up until Coach demoted me, I actually believed that you had been honest with me."

"Santana-"

"But I should have known better. You can fool the losers' eyes as much as you want with your new image, but I know you for the manipulative bitch that you are, Fabray."

"Let me explain-"

"There is nothing to explain! You did this to me! You told Coach about my summer surgery!"

If we were normal people, I would have explained right there, right now, that I had nothing to do with this. I would tell Santana how I really had no intention of stealing her position, how I believed Santana to be an ideal Captain for the Cheerios.

If we were normal people, there would be arguing, but we would eventually sort things out. After all, it was just a big misunderstanding. And I really wanted to tell Santana the truth.

But we were not normal people. We were Quinn and Santana. And what linked us was this pull to hurt each other, constantly, to tear each other down, no matter if both of us fell in the process.

I could already feel it. The pull. The expression on my face shifting, hardening, turning me into old Quinn. I tried to fight it. Because deep down, I did not want to hurt Santana. I wanted to tell her the truth.

But I wasn't going to do that. Instead, I lunged forward, glaring back at Santana with matching hate in my eyes.

"Oh no, Lopez. You have a surgery when you get your appendix out. You-got-a-boob-job!"

Time froze around us. It did not matter that the whole school was watching us. Right now, it was just me and her. Once again entangled into our endless dance of hate.

I knew she was hurt, but she wasn't showing. There was no surprise in her eyes, either. She expected me to say those words, just like I was already expecting what would come next.

Because we were Quinn and Santana. And this was our dance. And just like any dance, there were specific steps that followed, one after the other. I just made mine, and now it was Santana's turn.

"Yep, sure did!"

And Santana followed through the script, flawlessly. Her hand rose and slapped my cheek hard.

I stand by what I said.

My life is a perfect, dark and twisted comedy.