If time is money, then I'll spend it all for you
I will buy you flowers with the minutes we outgrew
I'll turn hours into gardens, planted just for us to take
I'll be reckless with my days, building castles in your name
Since we've grown, we long for concrete things
Honestly, nothing's felt so sure than when you're next to me
—Sleeping At Last: Next to You
•••
November 4th, 2011
Quinn woke just before sunrise, a warm wind on her face, afloat; still half-entrapped in sleep's tender clutch. Her hand sluggishly reached across the bed only to have it dangling from the side. She blinked a few times to allow herself to pass from mild unconsciousness to full awareness. Her dreamy pleasure broken, reveling in the sensation of submersion and inundation of absoluteness. She twisted onto her side, shifted the sheet up to her chest, and when she actually let herself turn to face Rachel, it was a sweet shock to all her senses. She watched the rise and fall of Rachel's chest as she slept. Her brown hair was fanned out on top of the pillow, her tan skin a dark contrast to the pink-colored satin sheets. Quinn didn't want to disturb her but she couldn't resist running one of her fingers along the length of Rachel's arm or planting a kiss on the corner of her lips. Rachel squirmed a little, but didn't open her eyes, much to Quinn's relief.
Quinn found herself smiling. She was happy, a delicious warmth beginning in her stomach and seeping through her limbs like the taste of a candy. Rachel looked like a little girl dreaming of holiday happiness, perhaps dreaming of some tiny new toy. The world seemed dreamlike in that moment: she lingered her fingertips on Rachel's wrist, then slowly moved it up to her bare forearm, and reaching her upper arm over her rolled up pajama sleeves. Quinn traced Rachel's jawline, her fingers moving it lightly down her neck, and finally over the fabric of her pajamas to her chest. It was when their eyes finally locked that Quinn realized how truly in love she was.
She was rewarded with a sensation she never knew existed. It went on and on, tingling throughout her whole body and warming her before slowly subsiding. She struggled to catch her breath, and when Rachel moved in to kiss her, she finally lost it. Quinn tightened a hand on her heart, forcing it to stay intact.
"Hi." Rachel broke the kiss, smiling at her.
"Hi." Quinn repeated, still in a daze.
"How long have you been awake?"
"A while." Quinn took a deep breath, heat rising.
Her pulse leaped, the feel as if everything were suddenly right in this world. Her heart continued to beat funnily inside her chest. She heard music in her ears, although it faded in and out and sounded far away. The room around her was blurring, she could see only Rachel's eyes, glittering with excitement. She was so beautiful, so poised and alert, ready for anything. Rachel's gaze was on her; her lips, her throat, taking all of her in, remembering this moment. Pleasure and desire raced between them, their hearts beating to the same rhythm. And Quinn knows when they're ready to finally say those three words, eight letters, it'll be a plunge into an abyss together. But it'll be nothing to fear. It'll be surrender. It'll be union. It'll be bliss.
A light rain began to fall, little drops tapping gently on the window. Rachel looked passed Quinn, breaking the moment, strangely unaffected by what had just happened between them. Rachel sat up on the bed when the rain began to come down even harder, but before Quinn could reach for her hand, she was up off the bed. She walked to the window, pulling the curtains open as lightning cut the sky outside. November rain sheeted itself against the windows, drowning out all other sounds.
"Oh, no, this is bad." Rachel slumped her forehead on the window as the downpour grew steady.
Quinn watched the rain fall diagonally from the sky, trying to defy gravity as it rode on westerly winds that whistled over the trees. "Why is it bad?" She asked, stretching.
Rachel hadn't turned around to face her. The sky darkened a little more, and big heavy drops fell from the clouds. Hurricane drops. "This is bad!" She repeated, exasperated.
"Why?" Quinn wasn't paying attention though. Her eyes lingered on Rachel's rear end far longer than customary.
Thunder boomed loudly, and Rachel jumped this time. Quinn could hear the roaring of the rain on the roof. She turned to the window and saw the gray sky flash lighter for just a second. Moments later, another boom of thunder.
"Quinn, you need to leave." Rachel muttered, pulling the comforter off of Quinn's body.
"Hey!" Quinn tugged the comforter toward her, glaring at Rachel. "It's freezing."
"You need to leave." Rachel repeated, tugging it away, again.
The comforter was now involved in a game of tug of war, with Quinn on her knees. She wondered why she was in love with this girl, out of the seven billion people in the world. "Is this how you treat all your guests?"
Quinn was too strong for Rachel. Exhausted, she threw the comforter on the ground. "I'm not joking, Quinn." She glanced at the clock.
Hoping off the bed, Quinn held Rachel at arm's length. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Rachel stiffened at the sound of the roaring thunder. The storm in full fury, winds whipping the rain in circles. Rachel took a step closer to her, though not touching, she watched Rachel's chest rise with every breath. "Are you scared of thunder?" Quinn asked.
Rachel quickly turned away, embarrassed, muttering to herself. The rain muffled her words and Quinn wasn't able to make out what she had said. A smile crept on Quin's lips, and she snuggled up against Rachel, her chin resting on her shoulder, rubbing light circles on her back. Rachel leaned closer, breathing heavily into her neck, her arms around Quinn's waist to pull her in while Quinn held her lightly, both lost in thought.
"It's quite a storm. I've never seen anything like this." Quinn said, watching the drops flow in vertical streams on the window. Rachel was quiet and shivering. Quinn rested her cheek beside Rachel's temple, whispering in her ear, "It'll be okay, baby."
Lightning lit the sky again before Rachel pulled away to look up at Quinn. "I can't go to school when it's like this."
Rachel looked afraid. The thunder had made her deeply anxious, it paralyzed her in a vicelike fear that seemed as though she was about to drop dead. This was one reason out of many reasons as to why Quinn was in love with the girl standing before her. Her emotions were visible; she didn't try to hide it. Quinn felt it, too—Rachel's fear—meandering, invading her mind like fluorescent splashes of color. Everything about her was real, and beautiful—that intense fragile beauty you saw in babies, but rarely in adults.
"You have me now," Quinn said in barely a whisper. "You don't have to be afraid of anything anymore."
A slow smile curved on Rachel's lips, shooting something like sparkles into Quinn's heart. Her need overwhelmed her in a hot rush that burned away every last shred of her hard-held resolve.
A loud knock on the door startled them both. They pulled apart as Leroy opened the door. "Rachel, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, daddy." She picked up the comforter that had been thrown on the floor when he eyed it curiously.
"It's really coming down out there," he said. "Will you be okay going to school?"
"Yes, I have Quinn." She murmured, catching Quinn's eye, watching her with a quiet, almost expectant intensity.
"Oh, good!" Leroy beamed. "You two should get ready for school, breakfast will be ready soon."
Keeping her eyes focused on Quinn, Rachel eased closer, sliding her arms around her waist. Quinn blinked several times rapidly before catching her breath. Rachel's face wasn't even an inch from hers, her lids held-closed, and Quinn was suddenly struck by how long and thick her lashes were. Rachel hesitated for what seemed like forever and a second, then Quinn instinctively leaned forward, expecting a kiss, only to be met with Rachel's breath on her lips,
"They say that it's bad luck when it rains any time before Friday the thirteenth."
At her flirtatious tone, Quinn pulled away to observe Rachel's facial features. All was serious. "This is your way of seduction?"
"I think today will be a good day, don't you?" And then she pulled apart completely with a peck to Quinn's lips.
Flushed and frustrated, Quinn observed her own rapid breathing and the way Rachel walked innocently to the bathroom, like she hadn't just tried to seduce Quinn, and stuck her tongue out before closing the door. She collapsed onto the bed, smiling, oddly warm. Her mind unconsciously delved into the things about Rachel that drove her crazy; the fact that Rachel was always so cheerful; no matter what was happening around her, the fact that she would hum to herself as she walked down the street or the school hallways, the fact that she would wave to strangers driving by in their cars, the fact that she's remained true to herself since the very first day Quinn met her in Freshman year, and the fact that those plaid—extremely short—skirts and animal sweaters somehow magnified her desire for Rachel. All that she knew was the world of bliss, that clean, polar realm bewilderment where happiness resides. At that moment, she knew she had no intention of ever being without Rachel. Deep in her heart it was inconceivable that they would ever separate.
After it was her turn to shower and get ready for school, they had breakfast together, the Berry men and all. She sat watching Rachel eat more than she ate herself, watching—the eleventh time—Rachel flick her tongue out to graze it lightly across her bottom lip and then she'd bite it lightly. It sent a pool of desire to the deepest pit of Quinn's stomach, filling her head with insatiate thoughts of ripping Rachel's clothes off and having her for breakfast. The four of them drifted in and out of conversations, there was real love. It was easy to smile and feel real emotions. In this state, the idea of spending the rest of her life with Rachel was a given. Forever—the culmination of the momentum of deep love and loyalty.
"Did you have fun staring at me at breakfast, Quinn?"
Stealing a quick peek at Rachel sitting beside her in the car, she saw a wicked grin and Quinn raised her eyebrow. "I was enjoying my breakfast."
"You were enjoying me eat breakfast."
Shifting, Quinn forced her thoughts away from a naked Rachel writhing beneath her. "I don't think you should see Finn today."
"Don't change the subject, baby," Rachel reached over to run her hands up and down the length of Quinn's arm. "What were you thinking about when you were watching me eat?"
"Rachel," Quinn said lightly, shivering from the seductive way Rachel was touching her. "This is neither the time nor place. It's pouring, dark and the roads are extremely slippery. I would like to live to see another day."
Rachel crossed her arms and pouted. "You're no fun." She turned on the music and started singing to songs on the radio.
They sat in an easy silence as the minutes crawled by, Rachel's singing soothing Quinn's distress at driving in this horrible weather, the sound of her voice was the noise of all pleasure condensed. Quinn placed her hand on top of Rachel's to soothe her anxiousness when another thunder roared overhead. She kept an eye on the road and another one at Rachel from time to time. She didn't know a lot about Rachel—they had just gotten to know each other after all—but Quinn knew enough to know when thunder roared her heart would beat fast, that she'd been through a kind of fear, through a dark tunnel into new territory.
Quinn cut the engine when she pulled up to the school. They sat there for a while listening to the rain fall onto the roof of the car, watching the water beating hard onto the six or seven miles away thunder boomed in the distance—faint but powerful—and Rachel sprung up in shock in her position.
"Listen, Rach, we can go home if you're not comfortable with this." Quinn said.
Rachel was looking out the window for a moment before turning to her and said, "No, I promised Mr. Schue I was going to meet him after school to work on song selections with Santana."
"I wouldn't be surprised if Santana isn't even at school today."
Rachel gasped. "Santana would feign sickness because of the weather?"
"Sure," Quinn said naturally. "I've done it before."
"Quinn, that's highly dishonest of you. By the means of education only one's potential can be used to maximum extent." She explained sophisticatedly.
"Rach, you told me this morning you can't go to school in this weather. Which means you do the same." Quinn interrupted. Their eyes locked and held, and the terror she saw in Rachel's eyes left her with a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Rachel swallowed and said in a shaky voice, "My fear of thunderstorms is an authentic condition known as astraphobia, whilst you take advantage of Mother Nature's most extremely terrifying weather as a reason to forgo your education."
"Why are you so scared?" Quinn asked affectionately, her voice was tender. "I mean, can I know?"
Rachel's gaze shifted briefly, but enough to send a cold dread lancing through Quinn's body. "I don't really know," she said softly. "My therapist has never been able to pinpoint the exact moment my panic rose at hearing thunderstorms. He said it may have been a childhood trauma that I probably, and will most likely never be able to recall."
"And your dads don't know?"
Rachel shook her head. "They said they've never witnessed me getting struck by lightning or being hurt by it in anyway. So they're as baffled as my therapist when it comes to this situation."
"You don't have to deal with it alone anymore." Quinn said.
Rachel smiled gratefully. "I know." And then looking out the window behind Quinn, she pointed, "Hey, there's Santana and Brittany." Quinn turned to see both their friends running frantically in the rain toward the school.
"I guess you're wrong about Santana. She's not a delinquent after all." Rachel teased.
"Shut up," Quinn laughed. "Brittany probably made her. We should get going, too."
Inside, Quinn walked Rachel to class and they promised to meet in the library during lunch. Throughout her day, she noticed something had altered between them, something had finally loosened. They started off with shy glances, gentle smiles, everything from touches to caresses to talks were tender and sweet. They were drowning in each other. But now, they had sunk. The tension had disappeared, every bit of it now replaced by an intensity, a demand. From Quinn's point of view, everything was charged; they kissed longer, caresses turned into a craze that had them wanting to touch each other everywhere, talks went for hours on end.
Her life had become like a cartoon, the image of Rachel would spring forth hearts from her eyes, the simplest of shy words from Rachel melted her into a puddle, and it wasn't a surprise that she actually saw bands of stars swirling in front of her eyes and around her head for five or ten seconds at the peak of their heated moments.
It was the best kind of bliss, the absence of discomfort.
When lunch came around, Quinn headed into the library and saw Rachel's feet dangling from the seat at her preferred cubicle, away from civilization Quinn pulled out a chair and practically almost sat on her lap. Rachel was reading a text book and munching on dried apple chips.
Quinn placed light kisses on her neck, breathing in the scent of her and whispered, "I love the way you smell... like daisies."
Rachel looked up and smiled. "Thank you, Quinn."
Lowering her head to Rachel's upturned face, Quinn kissed her. Rachel made a low sound and grasped onto the front of Quinn's letterman jacket, pulling her closer. Her response was all Quinn needed to coax her lips open and slide her tongue inside Rachel's mouth. She gave a growl of satisfaction. Rachel opened to her, her tongue stroking Quinn's own, pressing her body urgently against Quinn's, and making soft, needful sounds. Quinn slid her hands down to Rachel's hips, and then lower, easing the fabric of her skirt upward along her legs. Her questing fingers found silky stockings, and the smooth warmth of her thigh.
"Quinn," Rachel muttered. "We... could get caught."
Quinn kissed the side of her neck, making her way down the line of Rachel's chin to her collar bone, and then back up again to meet her heavy-lidded gaze. She wore a half smile on her shadowed face and Quinn said, "No one will see us."
She reconnected her lips to Rachel's neck, careful not to leave any bruises. Rachel groaned, tilting her head back to expose more of her neck. They jumped apart in fright at the sound of Rachel's bedazzled cellphone vibrating on the table. She read the text and her smile faded.
"Who is it?" Quinn asked.
"It's Finn," Rachel bit her bottom lip. "He said he can meet me after sixth period."
"Oh," Quinn's face dropped and she released her grip on Rachel but the other girl pulled her back in,
"Quinn, please don't be like this. I have to talk to him about us," she said, smiling ruefully into Quinn's mussed hair. "I don't want him to hate me."
She inhaled deeply, struggling to keep her breath under control—and the urge to punch Finn Hudson in the face. "He doesn't hate you, Rach, he's using this excuse to tell you how much he loves you and that you should be with him instead of me because I'll only hurt you—"
"Do you trust me?" Rachel cut her off, her voice roughened like Quinn had never heard before.
"I don't trust him."
"But you trust me."
Disgruntled, Quinn stared at her. "Yes."
"Then please, trust me on this, Quinn." She said softly. "I don't want us to be arguing about this in ten years' time because you still resent me for talking to Finn."
Rachel's words faded her anger. She focused on the touch of their hands, on the desire and the obliterating thrill sweeping over her. A lump rose in her throat at the sight of Rachel's wide, shining eyes asking Quinn for comprehension. However, it was the ten years' time which soothed her, soaking all the way through her, lulling her.
"You think we'll still be together in ten years' time?" A sudden heat flushed her face. She had never felt a twinge of intensity for anybody as strong as the one she had in this moment.
Rachel smiled and kissed her cheek. "I think we'll be together longer than that."
Quinn let go completely of her anger and jealousy toward Finn, and kissed Rachel for the remainder of lunch. Laughs were exchanged, smiles and banter. When Cheerios practice rolled around she couldn't feel the gruelling workout Sue Sylvester had planned. Sue pushed them hard, running, somersaults, acrobatic flips, routines were repeated until it was perfect, Quinn was flipped into the air countless times, Santana and Brittany fell countless times. This was paradise as far as she was concerned. That's not exactly true: love was paradise. She was so in love that she welcomed the gruelling session. It was only when Sue Sylvester was completely exhausted and dehydrated from yelling through the megaphone that she finally let them retire to the showers.
After Quinn was dried and got dressed, she waited for Santana and Brittany at their lockers and the three girls walked together to the auditorium. Santana was the first to break the silence,
"You know, Quinn, your love for Berry is quite sickening."
"What are you talking about?" Quinn put her hands in her pockets. The thought of seeing Rachel in any minute had her forcing her legs to stop from running to the auditorium.
"You were smiling like an idiot throughout practice." She started matter-of-factly. "Did Berry finally put out?"
"How was it, Quinn?" Brittany chirped. "Does Rachel taste like strawberries? Or any kinds of berries like her last name?"
Quinn cringed from embarrassment. "I'm not discussing this with you guys."
"Come on, Quinn," Brittany changed positions with Santana and was now standing between the two girls. She poked Quinn's arm playfully several times, "Rachel tastes nice, doesn't she? I've imagined her tasting like raspberries."
"Brittany!" Quinn snapped lightly, Santana was tumbling from laughter. "I'm not going to talk about this."
They entered the auditorium while Brittany continued to press Quinn for answers. "Which positions have you guys tried? Have you thought about a strap-on? Santana and I have one if—"
At the bottom of the stairs, Quinn turned around to snap louder, "Brittany! We haven't had sex, okay? Even if we did, I wouldn't be telling you."
"Oh," her smile fell from her face and she pulled Quinn into a hug. "I'm sorry you're sad about not tasting Rachel's berry. If it makes you feel any better, I bet Rachel does taste like raspberries."
Quinn thankfully smiled, looking around for help from Santana only to see that she was twirling around on the stage. Mr. Schue came out from behind the curtains, with Brad in tow, standing beside the piano and smiling at Santana.
"Where's Rachel?" He asked, looking around at the three girls.
Santana shrugged. "Being annoying somewhere, probably."
Mr. Schue checked his watch. "She's usually always early."
Santana took the papers from his grasp and scanned through the song list. "Most of these are show tunes. I ain't singing show tunes with Berry."
"These are classics, Santana," Mr. Schue said. "Your voices will go perfectly together."
Sniggering, Santana ignored him. "Did you end up getting Huckleberry Finn back on the team?"
Mr. Schue's shoulders sagged and he said, "Unfortunately no, he refuses to participate. Hopefully Rachel had better luck than I did."
Jolting forward from her seat, Quinn ran out of the auditorium to find Rachel. She was furious with herself for not having the decency to check up on Rachel. The thought that Finn might have done something irresponsible to hurt Rachel sent a quiver of anger through her, her mind racing. She ran down the stairs of the school into the empty corridors, leading to the choir room.
Rachel was huddled in the corner, everything around Quinn faded; nothing else registered but the intensity of Rachel's eyes, the paleness in her face. Walking slowly toward Rachel, Quinn was filled with a sudden dread at what she was about to hear. Thoughts ran through her mind with lightning speed. Perhaps Rachel was bitter the outcome of her conversation with Finn didn't go as she planned, not that Quinn was surprised, she expected that much from him. But there was something about the way Rachel silently sat and stared at her forlornly that told Quinn this was bigger than that.
"Rach?" She said, her hand on Rachel's knee as she sat. "What happened?"
Rachel couldn't hold back the tears and cried into Quinn's shoulder. Quinn felt her mouth opening wanting to say something, instead her whole body cracked, and somewhere inside her head something howled back, a long unending scream consumed her. She couldn't breathe. Not like the way Rachel made her lose her breath, no, this was something that ripped from her insides, wanting to get out.
"Did he put his hands on you?" Quinn asked quietly, unblinking.
"No," she shook her head. "He said as long as we're together, he doesn't want anything to do with either of us, and that if I bothered him again he said I'll regret it."
Rachel's voice reached deep inside of her, hooking onto her sanity and dragging it back to the surface.
"He was so angry," Rachel said. "He wouldn't look at me, he wouldn't listen. I've never seen him like that."
Quinn stared into her eyes, as her rage slowly ebbed. Sensations and sounds returned, and she heard the harsh sound of her own breathing. The pounded in her heart subsided. "Rach, I don't want you to go near Finn anymore. He threatened you!" Quinn's voice was ragged, and something hot stung the back of her eyes.
"He probably didn't mean it. He was angry. If I could just make him—"
"No, Rachel," Quinn held onto her temper with an effort. "Forcing him into this isn't going to get him to come back to glee. And I'm not going to risk you getting hurt just because you want him back in the club."
Rachel briefly met her gaze, but Quinn saw the guilt flash in that brief moment. "I—I don't want us to suffer at Sectionals because of me."
Shaking her head, Quinn refused to make Rachel feel any worse about herself. "We're not going to. We're going to win because of you. You're going to take us all the way to Nationals."
Slowly, Rachel smiled, and the last of her rage vanished as suddenly as it had come. Quinn wiped Rachel's tears with her thumb and said, "Finn will get over this. He just needs a little time. So promise me that you won't go near him. I know you desperately wanted to talk to him today to try and get him to come back, but I'm not letting you do it again. Not after he threatened you."
Rachel appeared a little taken aback, but squeezed Quinn's hands in a silent gesture of gratitude. "I promise." Then she asked, "How did you know?"
"Hanging around you has made me a little bit psychic." She shrugged.
Rachel snorted. "You think you're so funny."
She laughed, then kissed the top of Rachel's head. After a brief silence, she said, "One day we're going to laugh about this." Rachel eyed her critically and she continued, "Finn's going to come knocking on our two storey house and say, hey, remember that time I caught you guys making out on the piano, and like you said you were dating and like I went all crazy on you? That was a funny moment so like I'm really sorry." She mimicked.
One corner of Rachel's mouth turned up and before it turned into a full smile, Quinn kissed her. Not just a peck on the lips either, but a hearty kiss that lasted minutes. Rachel pulled away and said, "When you said house, you meant mansion, right? As you should know, my talent will propel me to stardom, and my chosen form of accommodation will be mansions."
"And what? You're going to hire maids and adopt animals just so the hundreds of empty rooms will have some form of company?"
"Why, that's a great idea, Quinn." Rachel's girlish grin made Quinn's heart pound and she leaned forward to kiss her nose.
"I am not living in a house full of animals."
"Mansion." Rachel corrected. "Are you going to leave me and find someone else?"
"Perhaps I will." Quinn said, devoid of any significance. No matter how things turned out between them, her place was with Rachel. She knew it, with a certainty that went bone deep.
Rachel smiled back. "I don't think so. You're stuck with me, Fabray."
"Lucky me." Quinn said, her tone was wry—but the sudden seriousness in her eyes told Rachel that she meant it as the absolute truth.
•••
February 15th, 2016
Santana and Brittany were running late, Quinn didn't mind. She enjoyed watching the people of L.A. doing their late afternoon shopping, others out walking and taking advantage of the mild sunny evening. She had only been to L.A. on a rare number of occasions, therefore, the task of finding the restaurant Santana and Brittany had suggested had been a moment of embarrassment and social confusion. She was still reeling from the high that she had been cast for the role of Lepida in the movie her manager had suggested she audition, and on her high, she didn't see the young couple heading out from the restaurant and as she walked in, they collided into each other. Neither had been hurt, but they had looked at each other in momentary bewilderment. The young man stepped back, and crashed into his girlfriend, who in turn crashed into a waitress and she spilled her tray of plates and cutlery. Quinn—rattled—stood there for a few seconds watching the domino effect. When her mind cleared she apologized profusely. Everyone just wore baffled expressions.
She helped the waitress clean up the broken plates and cutlery, afterward taking a seat at the far end of the restaurant with her head leaning against the window. She thought of Rachel—of the first time Quinn came to L.A. and waited for her at a café—it was a time in their lives where misery never existed. Is it possible that the frantic pounding of their hearts and the chase for love and laughter are over now? And if the chase is over, is it over with Rachel, too? She found it hard to say out loud the words in her head, that things might have run their course.
Something definitely has to be wrong with the world when you feel as though you can't be with the person that you love.
"You're deep in thought."
She turned to see Santana and Brittany smiling at her. Quinn hugged them both. They smelled scrubbed, she could detect the clean antiseptic odor of soap—the ones in hospitals and bathrooms—and a faint scent of perspiration. Quinn refused to believe that her friends were late because they were having sex somewhere—but she wouldn't put it pass neither of them.
"Sorry we're late." Santana placed her jacket over the chair and took a seat. She smiled that devilish smile at Brittany and—yeah, they were having sex. "We had business to attend to."
"I don't really need the image." Quinn muttered. She looked around for a waiter and they ordered.
"So, Quinn, how's things?" Brittany was practically glowing.
"Okay, I guess." She lied. Nothing seemed real anymore. "How are things with the two of you?"
They eyed each other cautiously, but it gave nothing away. However, they seemed to penetrate right through Quinn. She raised her eyebrow, "Why are you two looking at me like I'm about to hit you or something?"
For a moment, Santana couldn't take her eyes off of Quinn's hair, and she thought she may have a bug in there. Then she slowly gathered herself together and glanced around. "We have to tell you something."
Their drinks arrived and Quinn took a sip of her iced-tea to clear her dry throat. "Okay?"
Santana seemed frightened. "We've been trying to call you but you never answered or rang back and we weren't sure if this was the right time or whatever and—"
"You're babbling, Santana." Quinn said quietly. "Listen, I'm sorry I've been M.I.A lately. You two have always been there for me and I shouldn't have pushed you away. And I want to be here for you—for whatever it is."
"Do you want to tell her?" Santana asked Brittany.
Brittany didn't say anything. She nodded slowly before holding up her left hand. Quinn saw the diamond sparkling ring twinkling at her. The heat in the room suddenly seemed intolerable and she couldn't concentrate. She became aware that she was sitting across from her two newly-engaged friends with her mouth hanging wide open. Santana shifted in her chair and Brittany rubbed the back of her neck, looking so unsure of themselves that when Quinn flung herself across the table to hug them, they could hardly breathe.
At the sound of scattered plates shattering to the ground, Quinn broke away and glanced at the customers and employees who watched in amazement and fright. Looking back at her two friends, she grinned widely, ignoring the faint flush of embarrassment. The three girls picked up the shattered plates until the waiter who had taken their orders sweeped up the mess and smiled kindly at them for their generous help.
When they resumed their position in the seats, Quinn said, "That's amazing! When did it happen?"
A smile curved on Brittany's lips. "A week ago. Santana proposed in Paris."
"I'm so glad our foods haven't arrived yet," Santana said. "You'd have ruined my meal with that uncharacteristic half-crawl across the table. It's really not that hard to stand up, Quinn." She laughed.
Smiling, determined to banish her cloudy, somber emotions, she stuck her tongue out. "I'm so happy for you two. I have to be a part of the extravagant wedding, right? I wanna be the maid of honor!"
Again, Santana and Brittany seemed frightened. She forgot about the pain in her heart, the incessant rumble of the noise in the restaurant. She must have looked dejected because instantly they both recoiled and realized their mistake.
"We've decided that you can be my female best man." Santana said quickly. "Hell no, am I making Puck my best man."
Santana was still talking, her lips moved, Quinn heard the rush of sounds but the only word she heard was Rachel. She read Santana's face instead: pleasure, joy, happiness, love. She had known a long time that Brittany was the one for her. How astonishing it was, to find your soul mate from such a young age.
She saw a figure walking through the front doors. Quinn could recognize her anywhere. And just like the world had shifted into place, Rachel's eyes found hers from across the crowded room, like it always had.
It happened then, her skin felt hot and prickly. The sky had suddenly changed, it had gone blank. Blank as a cataract, an enormous white eye. She felt anxious. All around her everything was the way it was, only, had it finally been bearable. She tried not to think about the mistake she had made, about the way she left Rachel and walked out of her life. She found that she couldn't shut it out, focus it down. It was terrifying. Loss. That's what this was. Grief, sorrow, wordless and unfathomable. Not what she was feeling this morning. This was distilled.
Rachel's simple words jolted her back into reality.
"Hi, Quinn."
Quinn blinked several times to clarify the image of Rachel in front of her, with trembling hands and all. She now knows how the farmers feel when the rain finally comes.
"Hi." She said softly.
Rachel took a seat beside her and their arms brushed lightly. "Sorry I'm late. I got lost on the subway."
"It's okay." Brittany smiled. "We were just telling Quinn that you'll be my maid of honor while she's Santana's female best man. Maybe we should call it best female?"
Santana chuckled, rubbing her hand over Brittany's in agreement.
Rachel didn't look up from her menu, she simply nodded, called the waiter over and—although Quinn couldn't be sure in her hazy-induced state—she heard Rachel order baked pasta and a side of potato salad. Quinn looked down at her area of the table and saw a plate of chicken masala freshly prepared, as if it had been magically conjured from her mind.
"Sorry we're not waiting for you, Rach," Brittany cut into her fish. "We're just hungry."
Rachel giggled, warm and hearty. "It's perfectly fine, Britt."
They started talking then, making up for loss time. Santana and Brittany talked about the proposal, the where, how, when. Brittany remembered every moment of it. They said they were considering a Spring wedding, a small gathering of close family and friends. Rachel talked about Broadway, how she's been working hard with her vocal coach, getting reacquainted with her friends from her Avenue Q days. She mentioned several successful small roles in some auditions, they weren't many nor leading roles, but they were something to get her back on her feet. Quinn watched Rachel from the corner of her eye, and inside she ached. She felt something twitch inside, something deep and passionate, something that made her dizzy for a minute. Quinn talked about her audition, her recent move to L.A. Judging by Rachel's silence, she knew Rachel's thoughts were about her and she reveled in it. She didn't know what they were exactly, didn't really care, just knew they were about her and that was enough.
The waiter brought Rachel's food to the table and all Quinn could do was stare at it. It all comes rushing back to her, and for a while—for that very short while—she feels happiness running through her veins. The happiness to be alive. The dull pleasantness that she'd felt for weeks was replaced by a relief that descended on her like the eerie silence after a storm.
"That's a weird combination of food." Santana frowned while examining Rachel's meal with her fork.
Rachel shrugged. "I've been craving for pasta bake and potato salad lately. I don't quite understand it either."
Why it happened, Quinn didn't know, but this was when the chasm began to close for her, the chasm she had erected in her life to separate the pain from the pleasure. She reached over and touched Rachel's hand gently, a little amazed that Rachel didn't take her hand away. For a fleeting moment, she wondered whether Rachel was getting her memories back.
"That looks nice." Quinn said.
Rachel smiled, feeling a little unsure of herself. "Thank you. Would you like to try some?"
"No, thanks, I can't seem to finish my own food."
"Well, we should get going," Santana nudged Brittany. "We have a big day tomorrow, Britt. Got a booking with the wedding planner."
"But I just started eating," Rachel whined. "I sat and watched you eat. And we haven't had a chance to properly catch up."
"Quinn's here," Santana said. "She'll keep you company."
A dark cloud formed over Quinn's features. This had all been a set up. No wonder they ate so quickly, Brittany didn't even finish her whole meal.
Brittany wiped her lips with a napkin, then she got up from her chair in order for Santana to pass. She said happily, "Lunch is on us."
Quinn contemplated getting up from her seat to hug her friends goodbye, but she was too angry to care in that moment. She let her anger settle around her as she watched them leave. It was suddenly like high school all over again. Santana's childish games and controlling behavior to prove to Quinn what a mistake she'd make by leaving Rachel.
"You don't have to stay, Quinn."
Quinn sucked in a breath looking into Rachel's dark eyes, strong cheekbones, classic chin, chiseled everything. All of her was at ease while she dipped her fork into her pasta bake. Every cell in Quinn's body suddenly came alive.
"I can wait."
Quinn tried with all her might to come up with conversations in order to avoid the awkward silence between them. Neither brought up anybody outside of their high school social circle, much to Quinn's relief. Even Finn was ignored, and though both of them noticed the omission, neither mentioned it. Soon, they developed into somewhat of an easy ramble—made partners by the common bond of having emerged from a devastating accident of fear and trauma, and lost love.
They sat for a few minutes longer after Rachel had finished eating before heading outside. The fading sun sunk lower behind the puffy white cloud. Quinn let her thoughts wonder without conscious direction—until Rachel bumped lightly into her and she lost her train of thought.
"Sorry, I tripped." She blushed.
Quinn eyed her four inch heels. Rachel's forehead just reached her at eye level. "You're still shorter than me."
"I was hoping you wouldn't bring that up."
"So," Quinn swung her arms from side to side. "What are you doing now? Can I take you home?"
"You have a car?" Rachel asked.
"No, I—I was thinking we could share a cab."
"Oh, it's okay." Rachel pointed to her left. "My hotel is ten blocks from here. If I had known I wouldn't have had the need to run errands this morning and gotten lost on the subway."
"You're going to walk in that?" Quinn pointed to her heels.
Rachel looked slightly exasperated. "I can walk just fine. I've been walking in these all morning."
"I'll walk you." Quinn said before she had time to process her words.
"Quinn, its fine. I know how to—"
"Rachel," she said sternly. "You tripped walking out of the restaurant, and its right there. Who knows how many times you're going to trip walking home. I'm starting to wonder how many times you've tripped coming here."
Quinn thought Rachel was going to argue with her some more, but then she sighed and started off down the street. Quinn caught up and they fell into step together, Rachel's heels clicking loudly on the pavement. Quinn liked the way the trees reflected off the sun in the light: greens, yellows, reds, oranges, every shade in-between. Their dazzling colors glow with the sun. It was a magic moment, a patch of softness in her brittle life.
If Quinn could summarize the past few weeks of her life to a stranger in a minute, she would tell them this:
She feels as if she's sitting in a little wooden boat that had been cut adrift from a ship. The boat was leaking and she had no oars. There was a big hole inside of it—like the hole inside of her heart—she didn't know how to live, what to do in order to survive. What could she do in that boat? Dip her hand in the ocean? Drink saltwater? Eat raw fish? Paddle until she found shore? She really didn't have much energy left. She would trudge the streets unhappily, she avoided going home to her empty apartment. Often times, she found it hard to breathe. And then she'd think of Rachel. She'd feel a little rush of relief. It was clear to her that the only pleasures in her life were thoughts of Rachel. That big hole in her heart was filled. She would try to take a deep breath and with a sinking heart she would be struck by the notion that only Rachel could oxygenate her.
"Quinn?" Rachel's voice was quiet but it was enough to get Quinn's attention. "Did you sell our apartment in New York?"
"No," she said after gathering her thoughts. "I wouldn't have done that without letting you know."
"Do you mind if I get the rest of my things next week?"
She felt Rachel's hesitancy, and she wanted to cry then. Everything was wrong. She wasn't prepared for what was happening. It seemed a quantum leap from everything's beautiful to this. And yet everything around her was undeniably real.
"Rach, it's your place, too. I'm coming back to New York. L.A.'s just temporary."
She nodded, biting her lip. Rachel changed the topic. "How long will you be in L.A. for?"
"A few months," Quinn watched a leaf fall from the sky. "I start tomorrow."
"I'm happy you got your life together."
Quinn concentrated all the pain into her head—that way she didn't have to cry.
"Are you nervous?" Rachel slowed as they came to a corner. "I've read the book. It's quite dark and raw. Excellent read though."
"Yeah," Quinn said, a little alarmed. "I don't know anything about heterosexual sex anymore."
Rachel laughed, not like the little giggle she did in the restaurant. It was like music to Quinn's ears. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."
Quinn turned to her and raised her eyebrow. "Do I detect a pun?"
"No!" Rachel gasped. "I didn't even know I said that."
Quinn laughed at her uncharacteristic reaction. She then asked, "Did you know I was going to be at lunch today?"
Rachel struggled to form a sentence, her eyes meeting Quinn's mutely. The light in her eyes died away and she concentrated on the pathway ahead. Quinn quickly scrambled for words. "No, Rach, I didn't ask because I didn't want you there. It's—I was just curious whether Santana and Brittany might have set us up."
Slowly, Rachel turned back to look at her, the bitter self-condemnation faded from her face, to be replaced by a look that made Quinn's breath hitch. "No, I didn't know you would be there."
"Would you have come if you knew?" Quinn found herself asking. And suddenly she felt panic. She had asked a question she didn't know whether she was ready to know the answer to.
Rachel put her hands into her coat pockets and Quinn hoped she hadn't heard her. A man walking his dog passed them and Rachel waved at him. "I would," she said quietly. "I would've come either way."
The farther they got from the busier streets, the darker it became even with the streetlights. Rachel moved in closer to Quinn. The feel of Rachel's body beside her own caused her to feel wired beyond what was pleasant. The ground seemed to tilt. Her heart stopped in her throat. The world that she had known disappeared, now it flipped into hyperdrive. And then all that she felt was loss, and the profound bewilderment of vertigo.
"I'm so sorry for everything." Quinn said, quickly, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "I never meant to hurt you, Rach. Please, believe me. You were—are, still—the best thing that's ever happened to me and if I could take back all the things I've said I would."
Even in the dark, Quinn saw the way Rachel looked at her—not the eighteen year-old Quinn, not the Quinn who tortured her all those years—Rachel saw the real her. For the first time in almost three months Rachel looked at her the way Quinn finally wanted her to, and she was beginning to sense that that part of her might still be alive.
"Do you think we could have made it?" Rachel said, after what seemed like the longest silence she had ever remembered.
"I think so." And then she added, "I don't think the story will ever end for us."
Rachel resumed her pace, but didn't say anything for a long time. Quinn felt a strange surge of exhilaration, and she wondered if she could still gather herself together and be the Quinn that Rachel wanted her to be. To feel hope and love again. To have faith. The truth was, Quinn had told herself one night, even if one day she was ever able to pick herself up again and have Rachel be proud of her, there was guilt on her behalf—a broiling sea of guilt. Whether Rachel could ever forgive her was one story, but she could never forgive herself. It had become an effort trying to suppress it.
Rachel stopped in front of her hotel and Quinn looked up at the enormous building. Her tears were becoming harder to control.
"Can I ask you something?" Rachel said, Quinn nodded. "Why did you change your mind? I know I said something to make you want the divorce," she refused to meet Quinn's eyes. "Everything changed in those five minutes."
When Quinn met Rachel all those years earlier; they fell in love and begun their lives. Everything else, other than Rachel and herself, was absolutely peripheral. They had become each other's lives.
"You said to me," Quinn began, "I've been selfish and wanting you here with me because I've felt saved and loved. Love isn't selfish. It's kind and gentle and bursting of life."
Rachel seemed to understand where she was coming from but Quinn explained anyway,
"I've never been selfish when it comes to you, Rach." Quinn's voice began to crack. "I could never be selfish with you. And when it dawned on me that I had put myself before you, everything fell apart from there."
"You were doing what anyone would do in our case. That doesn't make you selfish." Rachel's eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "I don't want this divorce, Quinn. These past few weeks I feel as if I've been underwater, coming up to the surface only to catch my breath. Even then, it's hard to breathe. Nothing feels right anymore."
"Rach, you wouldn't have gone back to Broadway or had vocal training if I hadn't left."
"It doesn't mean I wouldn't have done it either way. Do you think it was easy for me? It took me weeks to put myself back together. You said you'd never leave." Rachel looked at her with flooded brown eyes. Her lips curled and quivered in sorrow.
The swirling in Quinn's head was almost unbearable, her body was wracked by nervous electricity. "For weeks I've been running relentlessly and I've arrived at exhaustion. After seeing you today it's as though I've surrendered to my tiredness. I don't want to run anymore, because it would mean I'd just be running away from you."
"I don't understand what you're trying to say." Rachel wiped her tears.
Quinn put her arms around Rachel to try and calm her. A look of unease crossed her face. "None of this is your fault, and I mean that as the honest truth. This is all my doing. I couldn't suck it up long enough to help you through it all."
Rachel's shoulders sagged. "Quinn, I still don't—"
"I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for walking out on you, but the damage has already been done. I can't change that, I have to live with it." The ache in Quinn's head was nothing compared to the ache inside. "You're not in love with me, Rach. You feel separated from me. They're two different things. What we had, continually, for four years was each other. That was all that mattered, that was all we knew. To you, the emptiness is because we've always had each other, it's not because you love me."
Rachel had nothing to say to that. Swallowing, she shifted her gaze to the passer-bys on the streets and others walking in and out of the hotel.
"I don't want you to remember that you were in love with me and start from there, I want you to fall in love with me." Quinn said quietly. "I know now that the reason I walked out on you was because you didn't look at me the same way you used to. It was unbearable to know that you no longer saw me for me. No one has ever seen through me the way that you have, and I love you for that—more than anything. Instead you saw my ice-queen persona, the girl who tortured you. I was sixteen to you."
Rachel's chin trembled, then she tightened her mouth. Quinn didn't want her to break down, no more than she wanted to sink down onto the ground surrounded by hundreds of strangers and cry like a baby.
"I don't want to run anymore, Rach," Quinn said. "But that doesn't mean that I'm suddenly going to be by your side from now on and pretend that nothing ever happened. I don't want to be with you knowing that you're not in love with me. It won't be fair on either of us."
In the brief instance their gazes met, a wealth of understanding passed between them.
Rachel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The wind crackled an easy whip in the air, and Quinn saw a shower of sparkles. She knew it was impossible, but she could smell Rachel's daisies.
"Two weeks, Quinn. Two weeks will be all it takes for me to fall in love with you."
Quinn knew she had heard her, but she didn't believe it. She waited for something to make her believe it was true.
Rachel put her arms around Quinn then, rested her cheek against her blonde hair. Quinn took her in a hard embrace, squeezing her eyes shut, and felt Rachel's body shudder under her own. When Rachel pulled back, she sniffed, tucked her hair behind her ear, and with a wobbly smile, she turned away heading into the building. Up the concrete steps, her footsteps echoed, the wind blowing her lush hair. She walked through the large revolving doors and her silhouette disappeared in the sea of people.
Slowly, Quinn dragged in a breath. She realized two things: she had a sudden craving for vegan ice cream; and, she can finally breathe again.
•••
November 10th, 2011
Quinn was sitting in the middle of the empty classroom waiting for Finn—she pushed her fury down to the depths of her soul, far away from civilization. She was confident that as far as Rachel and Puck were concerned she appeared content and that this was to be a friendly meeting between two exes discussing the possibility of remaining friends in the future. She was proud of the way she contained her fury, maintained an easy manner throughout the interminable minutes while she continued to wait. She nursed that pride, consciously submerging in thoughts of Rachel, so as not to lose it and snap. To lose it and have Rachel disappointed in her.
For days she silently rehearsed what she wanted to say, before finally convincing Rachel that this will be what they all need in order to get pass the situation and remain civil with each other.
The door knob turned and Quinn sat up straight in her position. Finn stood with his arms crossed, his face screwed tightly, his lips pressed together in a tight line, and his eyes flashing. "Alright, I'm here. If this is about glee or Rachel, I don't want to talk."
Even though Finn was putting on this face of wrath, Quinn could see through his mask and could sense his fear. "Too bad, Finn. It is about glee and Rachel."
"Rachel already tried to convince me to come back to glee," he said sternly. "She didn't care about apologizing for lying to me, all she cares about is that stupid club."
Now she wanted to scream, she wished that she could yell. Her eyes swept feebly over Finn's features, there was terror in his eyes, he was petrified. She smiled at the thought that she could still do that to him. "Listen, Finn, there are three things that you're not allowed to talk about in front of me. One, that can you make Rachel happier than I ever will. Let's face it, if you could have done that she wouldn't have broken up with you in the first place." Quinn paused to see him shiver. She continued, "Two, Rachel never lied to you. You need to get that through your thick head. What she did after you guys broke up and from now on is not your business anymore. You lost that privilege when you lost her." Quinn took a deep breath and finished off with, "Three, basically if you don't have anything nice to say about Rachel, don't bother saying anything at all. Because I will slap you."
Finn didn't respond right away. He smiled; it was a hateful smile, but a smile that built confidence. It was as if he had known what she was going to say and had been prepared for this meeting. "Do you think you can handle it, Quinn, being with Rachel? She thinks about the future, you know, she doesn't live in the present. She's probably already planned your wedding in her head right about now. Are you prepared for that? Are you prepared to come out to your mom and the whole school? Walk down the hallway hand in hand? Rachel wants that, you know? She doesn't want to be your little secret."
"You don't know anything about our relationship." She said, her voice now throwing off the ropes of restraint and sounding a note of hysteria.
Finn knew how to push her buttons. "I know that when Rachel wants to come out, you're going to snap and run like you always do when you get scared. How are you going to win Prom Queen with Rachel by your side?"
She started toward him, her anger, fear, and hate twisted and rolled together like a ball of barbed wire. Finn's eyes widened in surprise as Quinn rushed forward and seized the collar of his flimsy, cotton shirt, pulling him roughly down toward her. "I'm only going to say this one time, so listen carefully." She gritted her teeth, their nose inches from each other. "You're never getting Rachel back, so don't bother using lame tactics on me to make it happen. You never appreciated her enough to get to know the girl under the animal sweaters. She's so much more than the diva and dreamer everyone makes her out to be, and you lost your chance to get to know that girl."
Separated, Quinn glared at him. He was breathing hard and fast. She caught her breath, picking up her backpack. "You don't have to come back to glee, I don't care. But for some reason Rachel does and she wants to remain friends with you, so I'm going to be civil to you for her sake. This has nothing to do with Puck, or lying to you. That was a mistake, but Rachel isn't."
"Did you even love me, Quinn?" His question caught her by surprise.
She looked up at him, gathering her composure and clutching the strap of her backpack to ease the tension within herself. "Yes, I did."
"And you feel nothing for hurting me?" He said in a tired, defeated voice.
"I'm sorry for hurting you, neither of us expected this to happen. But I'm not sorry for being with Rachel. We met online, I fell for her before I even knew who she was and by then it was too late to stop falling." This time Finn turned to meet her gaze, and she understood that he really did love Rachel, in his own uncharacteristic way. "I would like to remain friends with you, you're a seemingly great guy, sometimes. I never liked the way you treated her and I guess my hatred for you stems from that, but I'm willing to look pass it only for Rachel's sake."
"I'll come back to glee," he said, trying to take in a softer, more reasonable tone. "I don't want to be a part of your life, not after this. But I will be waiting for Rachel and when you do break up, I'm going to do everything to win her back."
Quinn stared at him for a long moment. He gathered himself together and was looking more confident and satisfied than a wildcat with a fish between its paws. It had become a matter of his ego and pride, and when ego and pride are at stake, cowards and beggars could become heroes and kings.
He couldn't hold her gaze; he had to turn away. She glared at him one more time and then opened the door. "Good luck, Finn. You might have better luck in your next life."
Quinn stepped out without another word or wanting to see Finn's reaction. She slammed the door behind her as Rachel and Puck made their way toward her. Rachel pulled Quinn into her arms and hugged her hard, tight through her confusion. That blessed moment of relief when Rachel's body collapsed into hers she realized that her anger had subsided. It was good to be in Rachel's arms. Quinn knew that with her she could overcome anything.
"How did it go? Did he hurt you? Are you okay?" Rachel asked, her face wanting to ask a thousand more questions.
"I'm fine, Rach," she kissed the top of her head. "He's coming back to glee."
Rachel nodded eagerly, excitement in her eyes. "I hope this means Mr. Schue won't partner me up with Santana anymore. Did you know that she ridiculed my sweater this morning? Where were you to defend me, Quinn?"
Puck was laughing behind Quinn. "My grandma has that sweater."
Rachel's eyes fell to her sweater and her smile was gone. Quinn's ice-queen persona whirled around to glare at him. "Don't you have better things to do, Puckerman?"
Puck stumbled backwards with a sly smile on his face. "I hope you chicks will reward me with a hot and steamy kiss for getting Finn to meet you."
Rachel cringed, Quinn turned, rolling her eyes and tugging Rachel by the hand to follow her. "See you later." Quinn said, her tone was contemptuous.
"But Finn got to see you make-out." Puck yelled, but neither girls turned around.
"I have an idea," Quinn said, glancing down at Rachel, she slowed her stride so she and Rachel were walking side-by-side. They made their way out to the parking lot. "We should go get ice cream at the vegan place you introduced me to yesterday."
Rachel looked up at her, incredulously. "You ate two tubs of ice cream and now you want more?"
Quinn bit her lip in embarrassment. "It was so nice I couldn't stop."
Rachel smiled widely and poked Quinn's stomach playfully. "If you don't stop eating like that you're going to get fat."
When she glanced down, Rachel looked so cute with her teasing smile that she stopped to break their stride. Quinn didn't let Rachel see the affect the smile had on her though, instead she gaped at her in shock. "Are you saying that you're going to leave me if I get fat?"
Rachel lifted her chin to say proudly, "I want to walk down the red carpet with my very slim and gorgeous girlfriend."
Quinn started walking again, and Rachel caught up to her with little effort. Long legs, she thought, and then she had to kick herself for thinking of Rachel's bare legs wrapped around her waist. "I didn't know you were so shallow."
Laughing, Rachel got onto her tiptoes to kiss Quinn lightly. When they pulled apart, Rachel had on her best fluttery smile. There was twinkle of affection in Rachel's eyes and for that twinkle of a second, Quinn thought Rachel was about to say it: three words, eight letters. That clamor of her blood vessels began, her head was spinning a million miles a minute and the pounding of her heart—it was a luxurious over-the-top pounding of her heart. She had never felt anything like it. She was having an intra-body, extra-body, out-of-body experience.
Rachel never said it. She turned to walk to the passenger side of the car. Quinn stood stock still, staring at the spot where Rachel's body had been, hoping her head wouldn't explode. About thirty seconds later she felt she could finally move. She unlocked her car and neither said a word while she drove Rachel home. Strange, Quinn thought, the feelings the human body was able to process in such a short amount of time. It was an amazing rush. On top of the out-of-body experience, she felt juddery, jumpy and ultimately, just plain nervous. In the middle of it all, there was love and an enormous warmth for Rachel, for the way they started together, for them.
When Quinn stopped the car in front of Rachel's house, she said, "So, I'm guessing no ice cream?"
Rachel sat nervously in her position with her hands in her lap. Quinn didn't know what it was—perhaps she had been around Rachel a little too much lately, perhaps she had somehow developed Rachel's psychic abilities—but she knew. Rachel wanted to say it. She just didn't want to scare Quinn away.
"Rach," Quinn turned off the engine. I love you, too. As if Rachel could read her thoughts. "Do you want to do something this afternoon?" Then she shrugged, like it was no big deal whether they parted ways or not. "Or we could meet up tomorrow. We could watch a movie or something." Idiot, she scowled to herself.
"Do you want to come in?" Rachel said, finding her voice.
Suddenly remembering that she hadn't showered after Cheerios practice, she cringed at the thought of spending the afternoon with Rachel in such unsanitary clothing. "How about I come back in an hour and I'll make dinner?"
"What are you gonna make?"
"It's a surprise."
"I don't like surprises." Rachel said softly.
Quinn rolled her eyes. That wasn't a surprise. "I'll come back in an hour."
"Not three hours later like last time." Rachel warned, her hand on the door handle.
"One hour. I promise."
Rachel hesitated for a moment. Her eyes scanning over Quinn's face, she bit on her lower lip. Quinn's heart started pounding again. The twinkle in Rachel's eyes returned, it sparkled at Quinn, telling her, be prepared, Rachel's going to say it any second now.
Rachel opened the door, stepped out and smiled, "I'll see you soon."
Quinn didn't drive home in a daze this time. She did almost hit a few cars because she wasn't paying attention to the traffic lights.
It's weird, Quinn thought, how you could be going along, and all you're thinking about is finishing high school, college, getting through another year, and then you fall in love and other thoughts get in there. It makes it seem like meeting Rachel the way she did was meant to happen—that they were meant to be. She was loving everything. It's like love integrates all parts of the world. With Rachel in her arms, she succumbs again and again to the luscious undertow of the pleasures of love. This was the high point of her life, she can't imagine it getting any better than this. Their eyes searched for each other in a crowded room, their minds wondered automatically to the thought of one another, their bodies melted together. The bright white light of love—Quinn was trapped inside the thickest of it all, and she didn't care if she never escaped.
Fifty-eight minutes later she was climbing the steps to the Berry household. She took her steps cautiously as she carried the bag full of groceries in front of her, and when she reached the top, she glanced around the neighborhood What do you know? She thought—she had showered, went to the grocery store, and judging by the tub of ice cream in her other hand, she even took a trip to the vegan ice cream parlor Rachel had introduced her to—she had continued on in a daze after all.
Rachel looked surprised when she opened the door at Quinn's knock, and she felt pretty stunned herself: all Rachel was wearing were shorts and a very old, very long, blue sweatshirt. Her hair was down in waves, and she was wearing no makeup. Quinn was ninety-nine point nine percent sure she had fallen just a little bit harder.
"What is that?" Rachel asked as Quinn passed her. "You bought ice cream, Quinn? Do you want to contract diabetes or something?"
"Thanks for your help, Rach, I really appreciate it." She said sarcastically, heading toward the kitchen and placing the items on the counter top.
Rachel peeked into the bag of groceries, but Quinn titled her head to kiss her, hard this time—no gentleness at all. Rachel returned her kiss with the same anxiousness, gripping the front of Quinn's shirt in her fists. Quinn became aware that Rachel was most likely not wearing a bra underneath her oversized shirt, and that thought increased her arousal.
Pulling away with extreme difficulty, Quinn asked, "Where are you dads?"
"You're thinking about my dads while you're kissing me?"
Quinn sniggered and rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, Rach, I don't want to get caught devouring their spoilt daughter in the middle of the kitchen."
"If you're trying to make me laugh you're not doing a very good job." Rachel took out some plates from the cupboard. "My dads will be back later tonight. They said something about visiting friends." She then opened the potato salad Quinn had bought and attempted to plate it using a tablespoon. "Oh, crap." She said as the dressing spilled onto the table.
"You don't cook, do you, Rachel?" Quinn asked, half-laughing and eyeing her suspiciously.
"Oh, and you know so much about cooking?" Rachel was annoyed at this stage that she wasn't able to properly plate the salad.
Quinn took the spoon away from her. "I know that that spoon is for eating," she laughed. "You need a bigger spoon, Rach." She shook her head and went around the kitchenette to look for a larger spoon and instead found a frying pan with something horrible in it. "What is this?" Quinn asked.
"None of your business." Rachel blushed. Quinn raised her eyebrow at her and she said, "I thought I could make pancakes on my own. I got the recipe, but it didn't—"
Light dawned on her. "This was the pancake you attempted yesterday and told me you almost burnt the house down?" Before Rachel could say anything, Quinn mumbled, "It's been twenty-four hours. Why haven't you washed it? At least throw the pan away."
"You're mean." She said, childishly. Quinn moved in to kiss her but Rachel pushed her away. "I'm not letting you kiss me after your snarky comments."
"If you're not gonna let me kiss you then I'm not making you dinner."
"Fine." Rachel crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the counter-top. "I'll order take-out. I have been perfectly happy with take-out for the past sixteen years before you came along."
If this were a cartoon there would be fury electric sparks flying around the room between herself and Rachel. Quinn's eyes roamed down to Rachel's breasts and she could see her perked nipples evident through the shirt. She turned away quickly before a blush could form on her cheeks. However, Rachel caught her by surprise, leaning up to kiss her with no reservation at all. The familiar rush was fast and hot as always, hotter because there was comfort. Rachel felt so right under her hands, against her mouth, and when she slipped her arms around Quinn's neck, she kissed Rachel harder, falling into her helplessly. Rachel moved closer and her perfect mouth opened as her lush body pressed against Quinn's. Quinn no longer saw bands of stars swirling around her head, she saw birthdays and Christmases and paradise rolled into one glorious kiss and the voice in her head whispered, say it already, damnmit!
"I vote we just skip dinner," Quinn said when Rachel pulled away. "And make-out for the rest of the night in your room."
Rachel laughed, nestling her face between Quinn's neck and collarbone. "I'm hungry, baby."
That one word elicits five emotions in Quinn: love, arousal, bliss, excitement and warmth, which in turn accumulates to the following actions within her biological system: a palpitating heart, a joy rocketing from her toes to her head, her eyes flickered, she was transporting to an unknown reality where she was surrounded by light. Everything heightened from her pulse, blood to sensory nerves; she was teetering close to overdose. The loveliest high-wire there was. And the best thing was, she didn't need drugs, alcohol or any kind of illegal substance in order to achieve it. All she needed was Rachel.
"Say that again." Quinn whispered against her lips.
"Say what?"
"Baby."
Rachel laughed. She got on her tiptoes, her lips right beside Quinn's ear, and she whispered, "Baby," five times, and then her tongue snaked out to trace the shape of Quinn's ear. Quinn's pleasure snapped free.
A dog barked in the distance, bringing them both back to reality. Pushing aside their desire for one another, Quinn took the groceries out of the bag and began making dinner. It struck her suddenly, this will be her life with Rachel. They'd continue to argue and bicker about little things, Rachel would pout, Quinn would frown, talk would be kept to a frigid minimum, eye contact would be avoided. And just as suddenly when everything passed, they'd fall into each other's arms, as if the terrible tension had never existed.
Quinn made dinner, while Rachel sat on the counter-top and watched her, talking to Quinn about useless information she'd most likely never remember. For example, Rachel said, who do you think invented milk? Did someone just randomly wake up one day and think, I'm going to squeeze a cow and see what happens.
Quinn laugh out loud, she almost cut herself as she was slicing the vegetables. She realized Rachel was serious when she stopped laughing, and then Rachel ran to her room to Google the information. When Rachel came back down, her answer was, no one invented milk. A cow's milk was intended for their young and humans made good use of the product. It was German agricultural chemist Franz von Soxhlet who came up with the idea of pasteurization.
Maybe, just maybe she'll remember that useless information.
"Rach," Quinn said over her shoulder. "Will you make yourself useful and set the table?"
Rachel grunted under her breath, although she did what was asked of her.
"You know, Quinn," Rachel said, putting some pasta into her mouth. "This is the first meal you've ever made for me," she paused to swallow and continued. "Pasta bake. I'm going to remember that and cherish this moment as we sit quietly enjoying the meal."
"What happens if you forget?" Quinn was eating the potato salad.
"I never forget anything."
Quinn loved the moments she was able to tease Rachel. "What happens if you do?" She repeated, slow and challenging.
Rachel's fork froze mid-air and she stared at Quinn. "Then I suppose you may choose a reasonable outcome and I shall achieve it."
Quickly, Quinn blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "I want a month's supply of vegan ice cream. All flavors, one for each day."
Rachel sat stunned for a long minute. Quinn watched the rise and fall of her breasts underneath her sweatshirt until Rachel's voice brought her eyes back up to meet her chocolate ones. "Your obsession with that is highly unhealthy."
"It tastes amazing." Just like I imagine the way you would taste.
"I bet you're thinking about having some now." Rachel resumed eating, and Quinn had to remind herself that Rachel was referring to the ice cream.
"Well, I didn't just buy a tub so I could stare at it." She laughed.
"Okay." Rachel said, after a while. "If and when I do forget this moment, I will buy you a month's worth of ice cream."
They settled into a quiet and pleasant meal after that conversation. Dessert followed, Quinn ate the whole tub of vegan ice cream as Rachel watched her, a little bit of fascination in her expression. When they finished, Rachel cleared the plates and Quinn offered to wash them—because she was the guest, and really, it was the right thing to do—which, as it turned out, was a bad idea. Rachel happily obliged and sat on the counter-top watching Quinn wash the dishes. She was, however, generous enough to dry them.
It was nine-o'clock by the time they settled into Rachel's room watching television. The stars were out in full, the crickets a little quieter. Quinn wasn't entirely sure what they were watching, her mind wondered off into the part of her where insatiate thoughts about Rachel happened on occasions when they were kissing, in bed, or—basically just all the time, lately.
Turning over to her side, Quinn lifted her head slightly off the bed, looked at Rachel with hazy eyes, and leaned in slowly to kiss her. Rachel made a low sound in her throat and Quinn let herself sink further into the kiss—neither of them rushed it. Rachel was getting into it, kissing Quinn on the lips for a long while, using a little tongue, then moving her lips from one corner to the other. When Quinn noticed Rachel's breathing becoming uneven, she deepened the kiss, biting her gently on her lower lip. Rachel's back was slightly arched as Quinn rolled atop of her in one fluid motion.
Rachel's hand gently caressed her back, her arms, her shoulders, and she felt their heated bodies pressed together. Quinn moved to kiss her neck and nibbled gently as Rachel lifted her hips and the blood in Quinn's veins instantly flowed through in a rush of need and eagerness. She sucked in a breath at the sheer heat, the rightness. She moved her hand up to Rachel's breasts, and a whimper rose in Rachel's throat as Quinn gently touched them through the fabric of her shirt. Rachel continued to arch against her and Quinn pushed her back, her breath coming faster. Her eyes were hot and Rachel stared back, and then Quinn leaned back down to slip her tongue into Rachel's mouth, all the while she slid her fingers under the elastic edge of Rachel's shorts.
At the unmistakable press of Rachel's thigh between hers, Quinn involuntarily bucked her hips. She could feel Rachel's hands slide underneath her shirt, letting her hands explore Quinn's tensed back, her abdomen, and pressing her palm down to her breast over her bra. Quinn's body responded with anticipation.
Rachel's gasp of surprise restored her sanity. Her eyes flew open and she slowly lifted herself off of Rachel, only to be pulled back down,
"No, Quinn, keep going." Rachel said in ragged breaths.
Quinn didn't have time to protest because Rachel began kissing her again, and she rested her forearm on the side of Rachel's head, their hips driving to the same rhythm. Quinn dropped her head to the crook of Rachel's neck, low groans in her ear. Quinn's tongue traced along Rachel's neck and she drove her hips forward one final time. Rachel's muscles went rigid, she made a sound in her throat, then sharp, high gasps. A moment later, Quinn slumped beside her. Rachel's skin was faint with perspiration.
Quinn could tell Rachel wanted to say something, she was trying to catch her breath by taking in big gulps of air. Fifteen gulps later she was finally able to say, "Did you—?"
"No." Quinn said, honestly.
Watching Rachel had been amazing. Her whole life flashed before her eyes. Everything that's happened in her short seventeen years, all the good and bad things she had done, all the mistakes she'd made. It all led to this moment. It all led to Rachel.
"Do you want to—I mean," Rachel blushed heavily. "It doesn't seem fair. We can do it again if you—or I could leave and you—"
Her heart was like a tom-tom, beating to the message that this was it. She felt the inside of her body—which is her soul—or where her soul is, and a great intoxication engulfed her. And she could no longer stop it from coming out.
"I love you, Rachel."
Events like this make her realize that she hasn't felt anything in years. It was sensational, this new business of emotions. They seemed to be stacking higher and higher. This is love. And bliss. And all things beautiful.
"I love you, too."
At first, in her pleasant haze, she simply accepted the words. With an astonishing awareness, the room seemed alive. She felt suspended in time, utterly content. Then, she realized what Rachel had said. All the sweetness and tenderness in the world surging between them. She was where she belonged; where she would always belong.
Rachel wiped a few strands of hair away from Quinn's face, kissed her cheeks and nose, and then she said,
"Two weeks. That's all it took. Two weeks for me to fall for you."
Quinn had finally come home.