Winter break had never seemed so long, and it was only in its first week.

Sam was trying, she could tell. So, as much as it felt like admitting defeat, she tried, too. It was hard, letting go of anger and spite but she'd learned to do it once, and she could learn to do it again. Quinn Fabray may once have been queen bitch at William McKinley High School, but she'd promised herself those days were over, and they would be. No more manipulation, no more fights with Sam, no more being jealous of Rachel and Finn's relationship, or casting steely glares toward Kurt, who hadn't done anything wrong in the first place.

Quinn had turned her life around once, and she was going to do it again. She may be emotionally unstable and she may be depressed and she may never love again, but she was going to be nice, she was going to stop getting so defensive every time someone looked at her the wrong way.

And, she knew it wasn't Sam's fault. He hadn't been her breaking point. Neither had Finn, nor Puck, though she'd loved them all in their own times. Beth had broken her. Beth had been that final blow, the last piece taken from the Jenga puzzle, and her life had been teetering on the edge of absolute destruction for a while. She'd told herself then, too, that she wouldn't let herself fall into such a trap again.

But then there was Sam, and as hard as she'd tried to resist him, as much as she'd tried to convince herself he was a creep when they sang that first solo together, when he'd held her hand and she'd shaken him off, she knew he was just being sweet, and he just liked her, and eventually she fell, and liked him too. She loved him, too, and for a while, he was her everything, just as she'd promised no one else would ever be.

So why should she have been so surprised when things with Sam turned sour? It wasn't his fault, it was her own. She should have known happiness didn't come cheap. She should've handled it better, she should've, should've, should've.

But should'ves don't get you anywhere, and Quinn was learning this as time went on.

Sam was having a hard time.

Not just with choosing the right song, though that was difficult.

He was having a hard time pretending to be happy, pretending to be normal. He was having a hard time being patient. He was having a hard time waiting for the right time to tell Kurt his feelings.

Right now, Sam was having a hard time concentrating on Santana, who lay on her bed below him, running her hand over his abs and his stomach, the other finding its way into his pants to squeeze his ass. Though his lips were on hers and his hand was on her breast, he was hardly paying attention to the way her skin felt against his skin or the way she moved her body to fit with his. He just couldn't, his mind wasn't in the moment. He sighed against her lips and made to move away. "Don't stop," she whispered against his lips, moving her hand around to his back, pulling him closer to her.

He pulled away.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

She was pissed. Santana wasn't used to not getting her way with boys. Sam shook his head, sitting up on the other side of the bed. She sat up, too. "Look...are you worried about protection? Because I have tons."

"No, I just..."

Santana rolled her eyes and pointed toward the door. "Just get out."

Sam picked up his shirt and shoes off the floor, and hesitated in the doorway. "It's not you," he said. "I"m...sorry."

"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not giving up dinner with my family to see your play." Kurt was sitting across from Blair at a small cafe in the mall, having what seemed like a variant to the same argument he always had with Blair. "Surely there's another performance I can go to?"

"It's just another dinner, Kurt," Blair said, pushing away his half-eaten beignet. "I told you Friday would be the best performance. Don't you want to see me at my best?"

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You know, I really thought we had talked about this, Blair. I thought I was clear when I said I will never make plans with you on a Friday evening, and I thought you understood why."

Blair narrowed his eyes.

"This is about Sam, isn't it? You're still in love with him, so you're trying to slowly weasel your way out of being with me."

Kurt made a gesture of exasperation. "Are you fucking serious. How does Sam have to do with anything."

Blair leaned uncomfortably close over the table. "Just answer the question."

"No!" Kurt stood. "No, I'm not going to answer your question. You're being ridiculous, we've been over this, and I'm not going to sit here while you berate me like a child over a stupid question you already know the answer to." His hands shook a little, but he balled them up into fists and walked away.

Blair looked to the sky, running a hand through his hair. He knew he was a bitch sometimes, he knew he was unreasonable, but he couldn't help it. He had a massive jealous streak. He could say it ran in his family, based on how his parents' marriage had ended up, but he knew that'd just be a cop-out.

He could only think of one thing that would make him feel better.

"I thought we were going to be friends, Sam."

Sam was startled at first at being approached so suddenly and directly. He was standing in line at a walk-up burger joint with a list in his hand - dinner orders for his family - and hadn't realized anyone he knew was there. He turned around and saw the last face he wanted to see right then.

"Blair." He raised his eyebrows, keeping his face plain in an attempt to intimidate the boy. No cigar.

Blair was smiling in an odd, forced way. Sam put his hand in his pocket and waited for Blair to speak. "But now I hear you're making moves on my boyfriend."

He smiled and shook his head. "You must have the wrong guy, Blair. After all, I thought we were friends." How did he even find me?

The curly-haired boy gave a harsh laugh, before drawing himself up to his full height. It wasn't so much is stature that was intimidating, but his confidence. Sam looked around and let the people behind him in line pass.

"What do you want, Blair?"

"I want this over." He gestured dramatically, giving a little stomp with his foot, and he was a little too close for Sam's liking.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to back up," Sam warned. He may be a nice guy, but he was not okay with people getting up in his face, and he had a lot of pent-up rage and misguided emotion that was begging to get out. But Blair just gave him an annoying half-smirk and, quicker than Sam knew what was happening, shoved him backward into a table. Dude was stronger than he looked.

"You didn't want to do that, man," Sam said, straightening up and giving Blair a sharp shove on the shoulders.

an: sorry guys, I know you're all very anxious for it, but you'll have to wait a bit longer for Sam's love confession.
I'll give you a little hint as to what's in store for the next couple chapters, though.
there's going to be a big party for New Year's Eve, so I need a little help.
what are some of your New Years traditions? what are some resolutions you think the Glee kids should be making this year?
who would host the best New Year's eve party? etc, etc.
I'm also always open to song suggestions, or anything else you want to see happen in this story. It's winding down, so hurry and have your opinions heard!
again, thanks so much for reading, I really do love you all, and leave me some reviews! 3