~*~Chapter Seven: Come See About Me~*~
Day One
Will you recognize me/Call my name or walk on by
"Don't You Forget About Me" – by Simple Minds
Tina's POV –
Waking up on the Monday after graduation, I thought, this must be what purgatory or whatever there is between heaven and hell feels like.
I didn't have anywhere to go or anything to do, so in a way it was like waking up on the first day of summer vacation, except I wasn't waking up on the first day of summer vacation. I was waking up on the first day that would precede attending college.
As I let that realization sink in, I felt like a character in some teen drama going through the "transition season" – you know where the kids on the show go from high school to college and stuff – except this wasn't Gossip Girl or Dawson's Creek, this was my life.
Flopping back down on my bed, I winced as the crown of my head hit the wall my bed was pressed up against. Headboards, despite Kurt's insistence that they always added much needed drama to a bedroom, were not my thing. I preferred mounds and mounds of pillows; from the large to the tiniest of the tiny. Pillows were way cooler than any stupid headboard.
My eyes drifted to the ceiling and they were momentarily mesmerized by the slow spinning of the once all white fan I had painted with alternating black and white stripes all the way back in middle school.
Shaking myself out of what could have turned into a really lame re-enactment of A Clockwork Orange, but without Alex DeLarge, which would have sucked (hello, Malcolm McDowell in guy-liner and a top hat, H-O-T, HOT), and I climbed out off my bed and slipped my feet into my Hello Kitty slippers as I made my way downstairs.
Since my parents were both doctors, I wasn't surprised at the silence that greeted me as I walked into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I poured myself a glass of orange juice and thought about what I was going to do with myself for the day. Or for the rest of the summer, really.
I thought about calling Mercedes and suggesting we go hang out at the mall, but quickly I decided against it. There was a chance she was already doing that with…Mike. My stomach sunk and my throat suddenly became dry as I tried to swallow the lump forming inside.
It wasn't that I wasn't happy for them; cause I was.
Cedes deserved someone as awesome as Mike and even though, I tried to help him come out of his shell during Schue's duets project in junior year with "Sing" she really helped him during senior year. She helped him so much, he actually performed a solo; no dancing necessary, though he couldn't help but bust a few moves at the end.
Mike and Cedes had something good, something that would survive beyond high school and he and I didn't. That was just the way the ball bounced or whatever.
I held onto that thought longer than I probably should, which inevitably lead me to thinking about Artie so I guess that I meant I intended to make myself cry for three months. Yay.
I left the glass of orange juice on the counter and went back upstairs to my room. Instead of crying my eyes out (like I kind of – okay, like I really wanted to), and I went over to my closet to find something to wear. Settling on my favorite Bauhaus T-Shirt (that thank God hadn't faded yet), one of the few pairs of jeans I actually owned and the only pair of sneakers I owned; high top black Converse All-Stars, of course.
Looking at myself in the floor length mirror that was propped against the far wall of my room, I thought, as I shrugged absently, At least I don't plan on looking like an Asian Branch Davidian for three months.
Not bothering with my usual routine of applying heavy eyeliner, blood stained lips and colorful streaks of extensions in my hair; I left my face all but bare and pulled my hair into pigtails. Satisfied with the way I looked, I walked out of the house not knowing exactly where I was headed but since Lima was the size of a postage stamp it's not like I was going to suddenly end up in Cleveland or Dayton just by wandering around.
I ended up at the park and immediately I wished I had taken a right on Pine View instead of a left.
I didn't have hawk eyes or anything like that, but the familiar thickness of Artie's chocolate hair and the perfect glossiness of Quinn's soft golden curls were easy to spot; even from my vantage point, which was nearly all the way across from the tree they were sitting under.
The big smile that stretched across his angular face was easy to spot too.
My stomach twisted at the picture they made. They were sitting underneath a tree, together. That meant Artie was out of his chair. And sure enough his chair was propped up against the tree's trunk, well within reach if they decided to leave.
My teeth sunk into my lip and I could feel the edges of my eyes burning again. It was stupid and lame and way too bitter ex of me (especially since I wasn't really bitter at all), but I couldn't stop thinking, He never got out of his chair for me.
I was vaguely disgusted with myself for thinking that way and I was obviously so absorbed in my faux bitterness that I didn't notice they were no longer sitting underneath the tree. At least I didn't until I heard Artie's familiar pseudo gangsta voice in my ear, which snapped me out of my daze.
"Yo-yo, T! How's it hangin'?"
Turning to face him, I swallowed thickly and gave the mismatched pair a tight lipped smile. I hoped neither would notice, but I should have known better; nothing ever got by Quinn. Especially when she was in the presence of a current boyfriend's ex. Nearly every New Directions rehearsal – even the ones before Baby Gate happened – told me so.
Her sage colored green eyes narrowed as she pointedly arched an impeccably manicured brow. "Are you going to answer him? Or is he going to have to guess how you are?" She scoffed as she shook her head, soft golden curls falling smoothly around her slim shoulders. "I mean really is how's it hangin' that hard of a question for you to answer, Tina?"
Suddenly I was overwhelmed by the urge to punch her in the face. Not that I actually would cause I wouldn't, but I was seriously thinking about it.
"Woman!" Artie shouted, his head tilted back so he was staring up at her. "Slow your tootsie roll. If either of us should be ready to throw down over an ex boo creepin' around, it should be me; not you. So tell Frankenteen and Trouty Lips, I've got mad skillz with my chair, a'ight?"
"We'll just have to agree to disagree about that." Her posture was stiff and her eyes – even though I wasn't moving – stayed trained on me like the only move I would make would be for Artie's lap or something.
It was uncomfortable to say the least.
"Quinn," Artie coaxed, his voice and facial features going soft as he pulled her around so she was sitting in his lap. "You don't have anything to worry about, okay? I swear on every video game system and every video game I've ever owned, this four eyes only has eyes for you baby girl. Though I gotta say if you wanna get possessive over this," He motioned to his frame and cracked a smile. "I'm d'zown. Cause I won't front; it's hot."
He bowed his head and said quietly, looking up at her from underneath his heavy bangs that covered his forehead, "Especially since you're not just out of my league, you're out of my universe."
Her pink pout turned upwards and a faint blush that was perfectly rosy, of course, colored the porcelain of her sculpted cheeks. Her tiny body fit snugly against his as she reached up to push back his bangs that were always falling in front of his glasses and murmured, "I know that logic dictates you should be the insecure one in this relationship, but I can't help it. Behind that fake gangster and those nerdy glasses, is the sweetest boy I've ever known and I'm just afraid one of your ex's is going to wake up and realize how stupid they were for letting you go."
"You don't have to worry about that." Somehow I had found my voice and this caused Quinn's head to snap in my direction.
I don't know how she did it, but she rolled her eyes delicately; I didn't even know that was possible, but I guess it was since I just saw her do it. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and her pink pout was frowning stiffly; both were silent signs that told me she didn't believe a syllable of what I just said.
"Oh, really?" She challenged. "Maybe I don't have to worry about Brittany because it took Blaine transferring during senior year for Santana to finally come out of the closet, but what about you? Are you telling me that between graduation and right now, you've found someone to date?"
I knew if I tried to lie, there was a decent change the stutter I faked (but was still sort of real) would come back, but before I could even think of a passable lie, the sound of the grass crunching under someone's feet could be heard and then a voice that was familiar to all of us entered the fray.
"Yup. That's exactly what Tina's telling you."
Suddenly and strangely, I found myself being pulled into the strong and sturdy frame of one Finn Hudson.
My eyes – that I'm sure were as wide as saucers – darted up to meet his while my heart was beating uncontrollably inside my chest. There was absolutely no way he was going to be able to convince Quinn we were dating. Just the thought of us dating was absurd, if not completely insane.
Artie looked between the two of us and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose before clasping his hands in his lap and nodding. His lips were pursed together and slowly he arched a brow. "And when exactly did," He shook his head as if the idea (not that I blamed him) of me and Finn was impossible to comprehend. "This," He unclasped his hands to motion at us. "Start?"
"Funny," Quinn mused, tone cold as ice. "I was going to ask them the same thing. But I don't have to because I already know the answer; about as long as it took Finn to notice the three of us. After all, he can't resist a damsel in distress. That's why he likes those old timey cowboy movies so much and his room – despite his Mom and him moving in with Kurt and his Dad ages ago – is still covered in that ridiculously childish wallpaper."
The sight of Finn's cheeks flushing red from embarrassment had the urge to punch Quinn in her perfect Barbie face, flaring up again. The urge was fleeting because my mind was suddenly occupied with the feeling of my small hand being engulfed by his large, calloused one and a shiver raced through me; the same kind that I felt when I reached for his hand while we were looking at the stars on graduation night.
I could feel my cheeks grow warm as I bit into my lip momentarily. Releasing the flesh, I took a deep breath and told her, "I was lonely at the graduation party and so was Finn so we talked and at the end of the night, we decided to meet up at the park today just to hang out. We're not dating or anything like that."
My voice was softer and I hoped she understood that what I was saying was true. "I don't want Artie back. Maybe you two are weird together cause you're like a living, breathing Barbie doll and Artie's the prototypical nerd, but you work and you care about each other and that's not going to change because I'm single or whatever."
Part of me didn't want to let go of Finn's hand because his skin was so warm and the roughness of it felt so good against the smoothness of my own, but I didn't want to stick around and argue with Quinn anymore, so I let go; though, I did let my fingers dig into his skin for just a second. Giving her and Artie the nicest smile I could manage, I nodded absently and then walked off; not really having any particular destination in mind.
"Tina! Tina!" I heard Finn shouting my name and my face scrunched in confusion; why exactly was he running after me?
"Wait up!" He called out and out of the corner of my eye I could see his arms flailing around, which made me laugh.
Turning around, I watched as he skidded to a stop, nearly falling over in the process, which only had me laughing more. Arching a brow, I asked, "Is there a reason you were flailing your arms as if I couldn't see you if I turned around when you were yelling my name?"
"Well, like you said, I um kept yelling your name and you didn't turn around or do anything to make it seem like you even heard me," His cheeks flushed and his smile was sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. "So I wasn't sure if you did."
"Finn, you're like over six feet tall," My tone implied the obvious as I shook my head. "Only a 747 or the Empire State building could keep someone from seeing you. The reason I acted like I couldn't hear you is because I didn't think we had anything else to talk about. I figured after I walked away from Quinn and Artie, you would just go back to doing whatever it is you were doing before you walked over to us."
"Oh."
His eyes were downcast as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, and I felt like I had just kicked a puppy. He probably just wanted to make sure I was okay after the awkwardness that was our conversation with Quinn and Artie, and here I was acting like a bitch.
"You don't have to worry about me; I'm okay." I murmured.
"You sure? Cause I know Quinn can be kind of a bitch sometimes and she was really getting in your face for no reason."
"Actually she wasn't getting in my face for no reason." I admitted with a shrug as I fumbled with the edges of my T-shirt absently. "I know what a catch Artie is and I can understand how being in a relationship with him can bring out the insecurities she has but tries so hard to hide or whatever."
"That doesn't mean she gets to act like you're out to steal him back and stuff. He's not me and you're not Rachel."
I blinked and cocked my head to the side, studying him for a few seconds because I was surprised by his intelligent comparison. Shaking my head, I didn't say anything else about Quinn and Artie. Instead, I motioned to the headphones that were hanging from his neck and I injected a playfulness to my voice as I asked, "Lemme guess, you were totally rocking out to Journey before you decided to play hero, right?"
He laughed and his puppy dog eyes brightened, making my stomach flip ever so slightly. "Guess again, Brainiac."
"REO Speedwagon?"
"Nope."
"Foreigner?"
"Way off."
"Bon Jovi?"
He clicked his tongue in disapproval and said solemnly, "And I thought Asians were supposed to be smart."
My eyes narrowed as I could feel my lips turning down into a thin line. I wracked my brain for any other 80's rock bands that just screamed FINN HUDSON, and suddenly my lips turned upwards as I said confidently, "KISS."
I didn't realize how wrong I was until I felt him reaching for my hand to pull him toward him. I was tense as he wrapped one of his arms around my shoulders so I was pressed tightly into his side and his warmth had my head spinning slightly; something I didn't expect to happen, and I had to suck in a breath to keep calm.
The shiver I felt race through me had my stomach tumbling when he placed one of his earbuds in my ear and I was greeted to the haunting, strained vocals of one Steven Patrick Morrissey. "Reel around the fountain…Slap me on the patio…I'll take it now…"
With eyes full of surprise, I looked up to see his boyish face looking smug and this (I couldn't believe I was thinking this) cute half smile playing at his thin lips as he looked down at me. "Y-you l-like The Smiths?" I sputtered, knowing if I was a cartoon character my mouth would be hanging down by my feet right about now.
I suddenly understood the meaning of the word slack-jawed.
Instead of answering me, he slipped the other earbud into his ear and began singing along with "Reel Around The Fountain," loud enough for me to hear even though I still had the earbud in my ear.
"Fifteen minutes with you…I wouldn't say no…Oh people see no worth in you…Oh but I do…Fifteen minutes with you…I wouldn't say no…Oh people see no worth in you…Oh but I do…"
It was strange how I was noticing just how good his voice sounded.
I mean how many times had I heard him sing in the past three years? But there was something about listening to him singing this old Smiths song with his arm around my shoulders, being pressed so closely to his sturdy frame and seeing his puppy dog eyes all bright and full of warmth, that made listening to him sing different than all the times before.
He nudged me and I looked at him curiously. He stopped singing long enough to mouth, "You sing to," and I could feel my cheeks and neck growing hot.
Shaking my head, I looked away from him, finding my sneakers more interesting, but that only caused him to nudge me again and again. Pulling the earbud out of his ear, I noticed he paused the song because Morrissey's voice wasn't in my ear anymore and he was pouting as he looked down at me, "I don't want to sing alone."
"Fine." I huffed acting off-put even though I wasn't, and his pout quickly turned into his signature goofy grin that reached all the way to his puppy dog eyes.
"I dreamed about you last night…And I fell out of bed twice…You can pin me and mount me…Like a butterfly…"
This was supposed to feel weird; standing in the middle of the park and singing The Smiths with Finn Hudson, but it felt surprisingly not weird. I don't know exactly how to quantify how I was feeling as we continued singing "Reel Around The Fountain," but I knew I was smiling so hard my cheeks were starting to hurt.
I also knew I wanted to spend the rest of the day singing Smiths songs with him and that it felt really good to be pressed into the sturdiness of his absurdly tall body.
(Meet me at the fountain
Shove me on the patio
I'll take it slowly) ("Reel Around The Fountain" by The Smiths)
(Fifteen minutes with you
Oh I wouldn't say no
Oh people see no worth in you
Oh but I do)
Song used "Reel Around The Fountain" by The Smiths
