Part II: The Alarm Broke Us From Each Other
Rachel spots Finn the moment that she steps into the Lima Bean. She takes a breath, waiting for the old familiar flutters in her belly to return and exhaling in quiet relief when they don't. She has to resist the urge to dig out her phone and text Quinn in order to reassure her that she really doesn't feel any lingering urge to throw herself into her ex-fiancé's arms—though she's not certain that will do much to lift Quinn's sour mood.
Quinn had been stubbornly silent for the entire last half hour of their drive back to Lima, moodily staring out the window of the car. Rachel hates that she somehow keeps hurting Quinn despite her best intentions. She honestly doesn't want any unnecessary drama before the wedding, but unfortunately, her attempts to keep that from happening only seem to be causing more drama with Quinn—and that's the last thing that Rachel wants. What she really wants is more time—more time alone with Quinn so that their relationship can flourish and grow strong enough to withstand all the questions and potential disrespect that they'll be certain to receive once they go public. She really wishes that Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury had opted for a June wedding so that she and Quinn could have enjoyed their own honeymoon phase and come out to their friends and family at their own pace before coming back to Lima secure in their love for one another. Even now, after graduation, William Schuester is determined to ruin Rachel's life. Okay, so that isn't exactly fair—Rachel is the one ruining things with Quinn right now.
It's only two days, she reminds herself, buying a cup of coffee before she walks over and sits down across from Finn. Two days, and then I'll fix everything.
"Thanks for coming to meet me," Finn mumbles with his head slightly bowed. "I thought that Brody guy was going to be with you. I didn't think you'd want to spend your first Valentine's Day apart.¹"
Rachel momentarily freezes, realizing that Finn has somehow managed to miss the memo that her brief and insignificant relationship with Brody is over. She'd assumed that Kurt would have mentioned it to him, but then she'd specifically asked him not to mention the Quinn portion of the story to anyone, so maybe he'd decided that it was easier to just say nothing at all. Rachel stares at Finn as she considers how to phrase the news in a way that won't start any uncomfortable conversations right now, and for the first time, she really sees Finn. He looks awful.
"What's going on right now?" she asks with a frown, deciding to skip her complicated relationship status for the moment. "You look like you slept in those clothes and," she leans forward, touching his stubbled cheeks and turning his face to force him to meet her eyes, "you won't even look at me. ¹"
"I kissed Ms. Pillsbury,¹" he blurts out.
Rachel has to silently repeat the words in her head before they make sense. She sits back heavily in her chair and processes his confession. She kind of expects to feel a little sting of jealousy, but it doesn't come. She only feels surprise—and a little grossed out. What is the deal with everyone deciding that it's a good idea to hook up with their teachers? "Did she kiss you back?¹"
"No. She was totally freaked out by it," he admits, looking pale and a little sweaty. "I don't even know how it happened. We'd been spending all this time together…and she was there…and I just felt the need," he trails off uneasily. "And I kissed her, and I,¹" he stops, glancing away with an expression of sad confusion.
There's a little tug on Rachel's heart at seeing him like this, and she wishes that she could make him feel better. "Does Mr. Schuester know?¹" she asks softly, unconsciously reaching up to play with her necklace.
"I don't think so. I don't think she'd tell him, but maybe I should.¹"
"No," Rachel says quickly. "Don't. Just don't, okay?¹" She doesn't know exactly what's been going on here while she's been in New York, but she knows that Ms. Pillsbury has been in love with Mr. Schue for years. They're getting married tomorrow, and Finn's little...whatever shouldn't have to mess that up for either one of them. "Remember how you felt about Noah when you found out about him and Quinn," she reminds Finn, internally cringing at how easily she's using Quinn's past as an argument on the benefits of non-disclosure, but, "You kicked a chair.¹"
Finn huffs, leaning back and shouting up at the ceiling, "I'm the worst person in world!¹"
Everyone in the Lima Bean turns to look at him, and Rachel grimaces. "No, you're not," she reassures him. "What you did…it wasn't great, but I get it. You're confused and lonely." Rachel can surely sympathize with that after all the silly mistakes that she's made in the last few months. "I'm sure that just knowing that I'm moving on set you off.¹"
"Not everything has to do with you," he interrupts. Rachel slouches a little in her chair, nodding meekly when she realizes how egotistical that probably sounded. Finn sighs and whines, "Like...I don't know what to do.¹"
Rachel presses her lips together, suddenly feeling exhausted by this whole situation. She came here to meet Finn, hoping to rebuild their friendship despite the fact that it had upset Quinn, but instead she's falling right back into her old habit of being Finn Hudson's personal cheerleader. Frankly, she's a little disgusted with herself and with Finn for still expecting her to drop everything and rush to his side to guide him into making the right decisions.
"You always wanted to be an actor, right?" she asks, grabbing her purse and sliding her chair back. "Well, here's your chance to play the role of the supportive best man,¹" she tells him before she stands up and walks away.
Walking out on Finn doesn't feel as good as she thought it would, and she guiltily glances back over her shoulder to see him still sitting there with his head bowed. She hates seeing him so upset, but he's making his own life here in Lima, and she's making hers in New York—and she's happy. She's happy, and she's in love with Quinn, and she can't keep feeling responsible for Finn because they aren't together anymore. So she keeps walking, but she does still care about him—he was her best friend before he was her lover—and she wants him to be happy, too.
Rachel slides into her car—borrowed from her dad for the afternoon—and digs out her cell phone. Her call goes to voicemail, just like the the one she'd made before she went inside the Lima Bean, and the one before she'd left her house.
"Damn it, Quinn," she growls, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat. She jams the key into the ignition and starts the car, pulling out into the dreary streets of Lima.
It takes less than ten minutes to drive to the Fabray house, and she parks her car at the end of the driveway and stares up at the sprawling Victorian. When they'd dropped Quinn off earlier, her mother had been here to greet them, so Rachel had only been able to squeeze her hand and quietly promise to call her later. Quinn had forced a thin smile—Rachel knows it was forced because she's very well acquainted with what Quinn's real smile looks like now—and thanked Kurt for the ride before letting her mother pull her into a hug. It had hurt more than Rachel imagined it could to watch Quinn disappear into her house without a backward glance.
And then Santana had cursed at Rachel in Spanish and English and told her, "Don't you fucking dare let that flop ex of yours screw up what you've got going with Quinn."
"I won't," Rachel vows into the silence of her car, just as she'd sworn to Santana earlier.
Drawing in a deep breath, Rachel gets out of the car and marches up the driveway until she's standing in front of the door. She lifts her hand and presses the doorbell, hoping that Quinn is actually home to answer. Although, if she is home, then she's just been ignoring Rachel's phone calls—so maybe Rachel doesn't want her to be home at all. Maybe it would be better if Quinn is out with some of their other friends and is unable to take Rachel's call because she's too busy catching up with Mercedes or Brittany or No—no, catching up with Noah or Sam would not be better at all. She's possibly aware she's being slightly hypocritical when she's just come from seeing Finn, but she doesn't actually care about that at the moment because she really just wants to talk to…
"Quinn," she breathes in relief when the door finally swings open.
Quinn sighs, crosses her arms, and leans her hip against the door frame. Her hair is scraped back into a messy ponytail, and she's wearing red sweatpants and a faded McKinley t-shirt. She looks beautiful. She always looks beautiful—even when she's frowning.
"How was your date?" she asks bitingly.
"Please don't be like this," Rachel pleads gently, twisting her fingers together in front of her.
Quinn's jaw tightens, and her eyes start to glisten suspiciously. She glances away. "So what did Finn want?"
Rachel shifts her weight, contemplating whether or not she should tell Quinn about Finn and Ms. Pillsbury. It really isn't her place, but at the same time, Quinn is her girlfriend, and she really doesn't want Finn's little issue to drive a bigger wedge between them than it already has. "Can I come in?"
"My mother is home," Quinn tells her. "We don't want her to get the wrong idea about us."
Rachel deflates completely, letting her shoulders sag and bowing her head. "I suppose I deserve that to some degree."
Quinn exhales harshly and glances over her shoulder before she steps outside and quietly closes the door behind her, crossing her arms again and rubbing her palms over her biceps to stave off the cold. "You really don't," she concedes. "I'm being a bitch."
Rachel looks at her with a frown. "You're going to freeze to death," she chastises, rubbing her own hands over Quinn's arms to warm her. "Go back inside. We can talk tomorrow."
"No," Quinn grunts, taking Rachel's hand and dragging her down the driveway at a brisk walk. She stops at Rachel's car and opens the backdoor, sliding inside and dragging Rachel in behind her before reaching across her body and slamming the door shut.
"This is hardly any warmer," Rachel points out.
"But it is more private," Quinn says, jerking open Rachel's coat and burrowing inside until her arms are wrapped around Rachel's waist and she's practically sitting in her lap. Rachel can't really complain at the intimate position, and her own arms curl around Quinn.
"I thought you were upset with me."
Quinn sighs tiredly against her. "I'm upset with Finn," she grumbles. "And a little with you...but mostly Finn."
Rachel chuckles, hugging Quinn close. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have agreed to meet him. In retrospect, it really wasn't necessary."
Quinn huffs a little. "What did he want?" she asks again.
"I'm not entirely certain," she admits. "Support, I suppose. Advice. Perhaps he just wanted someone to tell him that he isn't a terrible person."
Quinn leans back with a wary frown. "What did he do this time?"
Rachel sighs, shifting into a more comfortable position—well, as comfortable as she can be in the backseat of a car without actually letting go of Quinn. "Finn may have…kissed Ms. Pillsbury."
Quinn's eyes grow wide. "He did what?"
"You can't tell anyone, Quinn," she instructs urgently. "I don't think it really meant anything, and it doesn't seem that Ms. Pillsbury reciprocated the kiss at all, so I told Finn it was best to just keep it to himself."
Quinn stares at her in silence for a few moments before nodding slightly. "How do you feel about it?"
Rachel shrugs. "In most cases, of course, I advocate full disclosure, but Finn telling Mr. Schuester about an impulsive error in judgment on his part will only serve to hurt two people who are on the cusp of committing their lives to one another purely for the sake of easing his own guilty conscience."
Quinn smiles a little. "I actually agree with you about that, but," she pauses and takes a breath, "I'm asking how you feel about Finn kissing another woman."
"He can kiss whomever he wants," Rachel answers honestly. Quinn doesn't look convinced, and while it bothers Rachel to some degree that Quinn doesn't trust her, she supposes it's to be expected when at this time last year, Rachel had been bound and determined to marry Finn. "Please believe me when I tell you that I don't want him back."
"I'm trying to," she says softly. "It's just a little hard when you still drop everything to go be with him the minute he calls you." She shakes her head and stares out the window over Rachel's shoulder. "He used to do the same thing for you when we were together."
Quinn's eyes are glistening, and Rachel feels the weight of regret heavy on her chest until she can barely draw a breath. She'd made Quinn feel like a poor second choice—twice over. It's completely unacceptable. "I'm so sorry," she rasps, tightening her arms around Quinn. "I love you so much, Quinn. I never want you to feel like I'm putting Finn before you."
"He told me you were tethered," Quinn whispers with a tear streaking over her cheek.
"Tethered?" Rachel repeats in confusion, lifting her right hand to brush away Quinn's tear with the pad of her thumb. "When did he say that?"
Quinn chokes on a sad laugh. "When he was breaking up with me junior year. He thinks you're tied together...that you'll always find your way back to one another."
Rachel has to admit that, for a long time, she'd believed that too—she had planned to marry him after all. It's only recently that she's realized how much those ties had been suffocating her. She and Finn had pulled at one another in a constant tug-of-war, each trying to gain their own ground but never allowing the other to drop the rope. It was exhausting. Rachel doesn't want to be tethered anymore—she wants to race down the path to her future with the certainty that she'll always have the balance to keep her from stumbling. That's what Quinn is to her—her balance; her perfect complement; her bashert.
"It doesn't matter what Finn thinks," Rachel insists, curling her hand around the nape of Quinn's neck and gazing deeply into those expressive, hazel eyes, "because I've found my way to you, Quinn, and I'm exactly where I belong."
Quinn expels a shaky breath before leaning forward to capture her mouth in an ardent kiss. Rachel can feel her anxiety fall away. Quinn's tongue teases across Rachel's lower lip, seeking entrance, and Rachel happily greets it with her own. She vaguely considers that they probably shouldn't be doing this in the backseat of her dad's car while it's parked in Judy Fabray's driveway, but at least the tinted windows afford them some level of privacy—and frankly, she's too happy to have Quinn back in her arms with her body pressed so deliciously against Rachel.
She can feel the rigid peaks of Quinn's nipples brushing against hers, and she doubts the lingering chill in the air has anything to do with either of their conditions. She slips one hand under Quinn's t-shirt and groans at the confirmation that Quinn isn't wearing a bra. She curls her hand to match the curve of Quinn's breast and begins to gently massage the flesh. Quinn makes the most amazing sound and shifts restlessly, throwing a leg over Rachel's lap as she tangles her hands into her hair and attacks her mouth as though it's her single-minded mission to drive Rachel to the brink with just her lips and tongue and teeth. With Quinn, kissing is truly an art form.
When Quinn finally drags her mouth away, they're both panting, the windows are more than a little fogged, and Rachel is more than a little wet and aching with desire. "My mom has to work tomorrow," Quinn husks in a sultry tone, and Rachel shivers in pleasure. "Come over in the morning. I'll make you breakfast, and we can…not eat it."
Rachel clenches her thighs together and stifles a moan—the untapped power of Quinn Fabray's voice absolutely astounds her. "Are…aren't we supposed to meet Santana and Kurt for brunch?"
"Stop being so conscientious," Quinn admonishes, ducking her head to nip at Rachel's throat, and this time Rachel doesn't even try to hold back her appreciative moan. "We can be late," Quinn purrs, dancing the tip of her tongue over Rachel's thrumming pulse. "They won't care."
Rachel groans, tugging Quinn closer. "Mmmkay," she mumbles, tipping Quinn's chin up until that magical mouth is moving against hers again. It's a long time later before Quinn finally stumbles out of the car and races up her driveway, leaving Rachel a quivering mess sprawled across her backseat.
xx
When Rachel arrives at the Fabray house the next morning, she's holding a freshly cut bouquet of red roses. It's horribly cliché, but she doesn't care. She'd always wanted someone to give her roses on Valentine's Day, and while she'd still prefer to receive them, giving them to Quinn is the next best thing. She laughs a little as she presses the doorbell, thinking that even though she and Finn had been engaged last February, he still hadn't given her any flowers. She had certainly appreciated the serenade at the time, but in retrospect, Rachel finds it amusingly premonitory that Quinn had been the one singing her a cheesy semi-love song and escorting her around the courtyard while Finn had been nowhere in sight. Okay, so Joe, Sam and Mercedes had technically been singing too, but for some reason, Rachel only seems to remember Quinn with any real clarity.
Unlike the day before, this time Quinn opens the door wearing a pretty, flowered dress and a smile. The smile gets even more beautiful when she sees the roses. "Happy Valentine's Day," Rachel murmurs with a shy grin as she takes a tiny step across the threshold.
Quinn bites her lip and reaches out to brush her fingers over one of the perfect buds, bending down to inhale the sweet scent. "They're beautiful," she whispers, taking Rachel's arm and pulling her the rest of the way inside. She closes the door behind them and gently pushes Rachel back into to the cool oak before attacking her mouth in a sensual assault. Rachel grips the roses more tightly, trying to keep them from being smashed between the press of their bodies. Quinn finally allows her to catch her breath, pulling away with a sexy smirk and a husky, "Happy Valentine's Day, Rach."
"Mmmhmm," Rachel hums dazedly.
"Let me put these in water," Quinn offers with traces of laughter in her voice, taking the roses from Rachel and making her way to the kitchen with an exaggerated sway to her hips. Rachel swallows thickly as she helplessly follows along after her girlfriend.
Her body is buzzing with arousal—it's been buzzing for the last two days, really—and her head is spinning with possibilities. They have several hours until they have to get ready for the wedding, and they're alone in Quinn's house, and Rachel really, really wants to explore the potential in this very enticing situation. Her footsteps falter when she reaches the kitchen, seeing the little table set for two with a heart covered tablecloth and a single rose in a vase standing in the center. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with buttery pancakes fills the air.
"You cooked me breakfast," Rachel says in stunned surprise. She hadn't thought that Quinn was being serious yesterday.
Quinn glances back over her shoulder with a bashful smile as she arranges the roses in a vase. "It is our first Valentine's Day together, and I know it's not much, but I wanted to do something to celebrate. I already texted Santana and Kurt and told them we wouldn't be able to make brunch." She places the flowers on the countertop in front of the window, nervously biting into her lip as she gazes at Rachel from under her lashes. "I hope that's okay."
Rachel wonders if it's possible to fall a little more in love with the same person everyday, because she really thinks it's happening with Quinn. Every conversation, every expression, every gesture—no matter how small or otherwise insignificant—touches Rachel in new and unexpected ways. "It's per…" she begins, cutting herself off quickly as the soft melody of "Somewhere" fills the room from some unknown location and catches her attention. "Is that Barbra?" she gasps, pressing a hand over her fluttering heart.
"I made a playlist," Quinn admits with a nod.
Until this moment, Kurt has been the only person in Rachel's life with whom she could share her appreciation for the perfection of Barbra. In her three years with Finn—give or take—he would complain every time Rachel tried to play something by her idol and then sulk until she would inevitably give in and turn it off. That Quinn would make her a playlist completely unprompted…
Rachel closes the scant distance between them in five brisk steps, wraps her arms around Quinn's waist, and kisses her. A little hiss of surprise puffs against Rachel's lips before Quinn's hands brush over Rachel's back, skimming down until her fingers curve to match the contour of Rachel's ass and gently knead the flesh. Rachel groans in pleasure and presses closer, pushing Quinn back against the counter. For a fleeting moment, she considers how easy it would be to get carried away—to slide her hand between their bodies and slip it under Quinn's dress—but Judy Fabray's kitchen is possibly not the most romantic place for a passionate liaison, so Rachel reluctantly drags her mouth away from those talented lips.
"You are such an amazing girlfriend," she murmurs reverently.
Quinn chuckles breathlessly—eyes still closed in pleasure. "I think you're the only person to ever say that to me."
"You've obviously dated unappreciative morons up to this point."
Quinn laughs. "I'm not going to argue with you. Just remember that you almost married one of those unappreciative morons."
Rachel frowns. "Well, I didn't," she defends weakly, feeling a bit guilty at her own thoughtless words. Finn certainly has had his moments, but he's generally a good guy.
"Lucky me," Quinn whispers with a grin, and Rachel silently thinks that they're both pretty damn lucky.
They sit down to enjoy the breakfast that Quinn made for them while they talk about their respective visits with their parents. Rachel's fathers were happy to see her last night, pumping her for information about New York, auditions, friends, and potential lovers—not that they were eager to hear every intimate detail of that last item, but they were certainly curious if the sparkle in her eyes was a sign that she'd met someone new. She'd been so tempted to tell them about Quinn, but she isn't quite prepared for the questions that she'll have to answer.
Quinn complains a little about her mother—they don't exactly have the kind of easy, open relationship that Rachel has with her parents. Judy doesn't know anything about the predatory older (married!) professor that Quinn had dated, or the handful of co-eds that had followed, or (most especially) Rachel. Quinn admits that, for as much as she doesn't want to hide her relationship with Rachel, her mother is the one person she isn't eager to tell.
"I just don't know how she'll handle this. I'm eighteen, and I have access to my trust fund, so I won't be completely screwed if she disowns me over this, but," she shrugs, tracing a blunt fingernail around the edge of her coffee cup, "I kind of like having a mom again. It'll suck to lose that."
Rachel reaches across the table and takes Quinn's hand. "I'm here for you, no matter what happens. You're not alone, Quinn."
Quinn lifts their joined hands to her lips and presses a kiss to Rachel's knuckles. "That means more to me than you can know," she murmurs, and Rachel sinks into Quinn's expressive eyes until Quinn stands, still holding Rachel's hand, and says, "Dance with me?"
Rachel's brows furrow as she gazes up at Quinn. "Here?"
"Well, I'd obviously prefer a ballroom with a live band," Quinn drawls, tugging Rachel up from her chair, "but since that won't be happening today, I'll have to settle for this."
She pulls Rachel into a loose embrace, urging her into a slow dance to the strains of Barbra Streisand and Bryan Adams crooning "I've Finally Found Someone." Rachel sighs, effortlessly following the sway of Quinn's body. She doesn't say anything—just enjoys the graceful, fluid way that Quinn moves. She's always loved watching Quinn let go and surrender her body to the music, and dancing with her is even better. Rachel wishes that she could promise Quinn a dance at the reception, but she just can't yet.
A playful grin curls Quinn's lips, and she steps back, lifting her arms to twirl Rachel around before pulling her back into position without missing a beat. Rachel is not nearly as polished, stumbling a little as she attempts to follow Quinn's lead and giggling at her own clumsiness. "That's not fair, I wasn't expecting that."
"Life is full of surprises," Quinn warns with a sexy smirk, twirling her again, but stopping her halfway through the spin with a gentle hand on her side before she presses the front of her body against Rachel's back and pulls their joined hands down over Rachel's stomach. "You have to learn to go with the flow," she husks against Rachel's ear.
Rachel shivers, leaning back against Quinn. Their bodies are still swaying together, but Quinn's lips are nibbling her throat, and her right hand is sliding up to tease her breast through her clothes. Rachel moans and presses back into Quinn. "That's really not fair," she rasps.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Rachel groans, "No," still pressing one hand over Quinn's on her belly—where that ever present flame is building again—and reaching the other back to curl around Quinn's thigh. She lets her head tip farther to the side to grant Quinn's lips free reign to her throat. Quinn really is far too good at arousing her. Rachel is currently attempting to calculate how much time they'll actually need to get ready for the wedding and drive to the church and whether or not a slight detour to Quinn's bedroom will significantly impede their schedule, but she's finding it far too difficult to think beyond what Quinn's mouth and hands are doing to her.
She doesn't know what it means that Quinn can stir this wantonness in her so easily. Sex has always been so intrinsically connected with love and romance in her mind that she'd never paid much attention to her body's physical reactions independent of her emotional attachments. She'd been in love with Finn, so of course she'd enjoyed the closeness with him, but she's beginning to realize that she'd been more or less indifferent to the actual act of sex. With Quinn, Rachel is so blissfully aware of and aroused by every touch, every kiss, every word, and every look. Her body reacts—it responds and demands. She's frighteningly close to ignoring all of their prior commitments (and the fact that they're still standing in Judy Fabray's kitchen) and just giving into those demands.
The sudden muffled chorus of "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" that plays over Barbra's voice works like a slushy to the face for Rachel. Her body jerks at the unpleasant intrusion of reality, and Quinn groans as she lifts her head. "Is that your phone?"
Rachel sighs raggedly and nods, but she doesn't make any move to dig out her phone from the pocket of her coat where it hangs on the back of the chair. She knows exactly who it is—she just changed the ringtone last night.
"Are you gonna answer it?"
"No."
"It's Finn, isn't it?" Quinn guesses correctly, releasing her hold on Rachel and depriving her of the wonderful heat that had been engulfing her body. "That's just perfect," she mutters, not waiting for Rachel's confirmation. Instead she paces over to the kitchen table and begins to clean up their plates.
Rachel watches her in confusion. "I didn't ask him to call me," she defends—not that she needs to defend anything.
"I didn't imply that you had," Quinn says coolly as she takes the plates to the sink.
"But you're obviously annoyed," Rachel points out, grabbing their coffee cups and following her.
Quinn glances at her and rolls her eyes. "He's kind of a mood killer, Rachel."
Rachel sets the cups down by the sink and sags against the counter, thankful that at least her phone has gone silent. "I'm sorry." She's more than a little frustrated at being interrupted in the middle of—well, in the middle of far more desirable activities. Finn has the worst timing imaginable.
"It's not your fault," Quinn dismisses, turning her attention back to rinsing the syrup-covered dishes.
Rachel worries her lip as she watches Quinn work. "Thank you for breakfast," she murmurs, hoping to shift the mood back closer to where it was before her phone went off.
Quinn's lips curve. "You don't have to thank me for that. I enjoy cooking for you, which is a good thing, since you're pretty useless in the kitchen."
Rachel releases an indignant squeak, lightly pushing Quinn's shoulder. "I'll have you know that I'm getting much better at not burning things."
"Like water?" Quinn teases, flicking her wet fingers in Rachel's direction and sending a few droplets of water onto her cheek.
Rachel gasps, brushing her fingers over her cheek as Quinn laughs and turns off the water. "You're terrible," she accuses with a pout.
"No." Quinn leans closer—her lips hovering scant inches from Rachel's. "I'm amazing…remember?"
Rachel can almost taste the flavor of honey that always clings Quinn's lips—until Taylor Swift rudely interrupts the moment once again.
"Unbelievable," Quinn growls, pulling away and directing a deadly glare at Rachel's coat.
"Ignore it," Rachel begs, reaching up to cup Quinn's cheek.
Quinn scoffs. "He'll just keep calling until you answer."
"I'm sure he'll give up eventually." As if on cue, the phone goes silent again, and Rachel flashes Quinn a smile. "See? Now if I recall, you were about to be amazing," she prompts, guiding Quinn's lips back to hers. Quinn sighs against her mouth, kissing her languidly.
Rachel's phone trills again—this time with an abbreviated I'm telling you, I'm telling you that announces a new text message—and Quinn's teeth bite into Rachel's lip a little roughly. She winces, but she doesn't say anything when Quinn turns away and stares into the sink. "Just answer it," she says tiredly.
"I'm not putting Finn before you," Rachel stubbornly insists. Her phone trills again.
Quinn tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling. "Oh, my God!" She spins away and paces to the chair, digging her hand into Rachel's coat pocket and pulling out the phone. "Here," she says, holding out the phone to Rachel.
Rachel glares at the device when it trills for the third time in Quinn's hand. "I'll just turn it off," she decides, reaching for the phone.
"Then he'll probably call all of your friends to try to track you down or stake out your house. You might as well see what he wants, Rachel." Quinn tells her with a frown.
She drops her chin in defeat, touching the screen and reading over the texts. She grimaces at the atrocious text speak that Finn still insists on using.
Where r u?
Need 2 talk 2 u
Come 2 hs aditorm pls. Need 2 cu b4 the wedng. Need ur help.
"Well?" Quinn asks expectantly, arms crosses tightly beneath her breasts.
Rachel puffs out a frustrated breath. "He wants me to meet him in the auditorium. Apparently he needs my help with something."
Quinn purses her lips, averting her eyes. "You should go. Finn needs you, after all."
The phone vibrates in Rachel's hand, signaling another text.
R u gonna answr
Rachel growls under her breath and fires off a text.
I'm sorry. I can't make it. You'll be fine. I have faith in you. See you at the wedding. ~R.
She turns off her phone before Finn can text or call again and tosses it onto the table. "There. I told him that I can't make it. Can we please forget about Finn now?" she asks, running her hands over Quinn's tense shoulders.
"He's making that kind of difficult." Quinn meets Rachel's eyes with a critical expression. "Maybe he wouldn't be constantly calling you to meet him if he knew you were in a relationship."
"I doubt it. I mean, he already thinks I'm with Brody."
Rachel realizes immediately that it was the exact wrong thing to say. Quinn's eyes grow cold, and she shrugs away Rachel's touch. "Why does he think that, Rachel?" she questions harshly.
"I…he knows I was kind of dating him before," Rachel stutters. "No one ever told him we'd broken up, and I…I thought it would be easier..."
Quinn throws her hands up in the air. "Of course you did! Because it's all about what's easier for you, isn't it? It's perfectly okay to let Finn think you're dating Brody Weston, but telling him you're with me is too much drama."
"If you can't see difference," Rachel begins defensively.
"Oh, I see it perfectly," Quinn hisses. "You tell me that I'm not your dirty little secret, but you sure as hell know exactly how to make me feel like I am."
"That's not…I didn't," Rachel tries to argue, but she doesn't really have any excuses. She's taking the path of least resistance because she doesn't want to deal with the truth right now. "I'm sorry, Quinn," she whispers tearfully.
Quinn shakes her head sadly. "You know what the worst part is? I love you enough to let you play this game with me because I actually believe you when you tell me that it's temporary."
"It is," Rachel stresses, wiping her tears. "I swear it is, Quinn. Look, I know I'm not handling any of this in the best way...but you said you could be patient with me."
Quinn exhales a shaky breath and runs her hands through her hair, pushing it back behind her ears. "Yeah, well, it's a little harder than I thought it would be when I find out that you'd rather use Brody as a beard," she spits, causing Rachel's cheeks to heat with shame, "than tell Finn any part of the truth. Does he even know that you're with me right now? Spending the morning with your friend, Quinn?"
Rachel drops her gaze to the floor, twisting her fingers together. "N-no."
Quinn nods, firmly setting her jaw and crossing her arms again. "I guess it doesn't really matter who you're with, does it?" she mutters. "Finn thinks you're involved with Brody, and he still expects you drop everything and go running to him."
Rachel's head jerks up, and she takes an urgent step forward, resting her hand on Quinn's forearm. "But I'm not running anywhere! I'm here with you."
"Behind closed doors," Quinn reminds her tightly.
Rachel clutches at her arm. "Just for a little while," she whispers raggedly, struggling to keep her composure. She hates seeing that distant look in Quinn's eyes.
Quinn sighs in resignation. "Look, I don't want to argue with you anymore about this. We keep going in circles. You don't want to tell anyone else about us right now, and I get that, but lying about us bothers me, and you know that. But I know I'm not going to change your mind, so...let's just try to get through the rest of the day. Okay?"
Her tone is even, but there's an underlying edge to it that lets Rachel know that she's still upset. Rachel wants to fix everything between them right now—promise Quinn anything she wants—but then she remembers Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury and that this is their day, and it shouldn't be overshadowed by the romantic entanglements of their former students. So she nods in silent agreement, biting into the inside of her cheek to keep her composure and practically falls into Quinn to hug her fiercely. "I love you," she whispers against her ear, burying her nose in Quinn's hair and breathing in the calming scent of citrus.
She feels Quinn's body relax in increments against her until Quinn returns the embrace, breathing, "I love you, too," and Rachel silently repeats her mantra. They'll be okay—as soon as they get out of Lima.
¹Glee 4x14, "I Do"
