Chapter 7
Hello everyone!
I'm not sure if I can communicate how much I love you all. Thanks so much for the lovely reviews and messages, and thanks once again to everyone who continues to read. And to all my new people, hello! I love you, too.
To all of you anons to whom I was unable to reply, thank you! I made a sincere effort to reply to each and every review I got, but this time around I may have missed a few... it's almost finals week. School comes first!
But here we are, back on track with Thursday midnight updates. Enjoy. This one may be short but I love it.
"…Is it because Jesse made you have sex with him when you didn't want to?"
She knew this would happen. She knew Santana would tell Brittany but she still can't help but feel betrayed. She never even told Santana exactly what happened… and it's much more complicated than the sentence Brittany just reduced it to.
Silence fills the space in the room from wall to wall, carpet to ceiling. Santana looks genuinely shocked, Quinn's eyes dart quickly between the three other girls in the room, and Brittany seems to have just realized she's said something she shouldn't have. Rachel snaps her mouth closed, embarrassed at having had such a visual reaction to Brittany's words. But what can she say?
"I- I- um…" She stutters in an effort to say something if only just to break up the stifling silence in the room, but no real words come out.
Quinn's head snaps to the left and her eyes lock onto Rachel's as she tries to speak. Her emotions are so strong she can feel them blazing through her veins, in every part of her body. First confusion, then hurt and anger and frustration and sadness. She's furious with Santana because she clearly knew. That must have been how Brittany found out. Quinn has known for weeks now that Santana knew more than she was letting on, but knowing without a doubt and seeing proof is almost more than she can handle. What's that feeling? Oh. Jealousy. She's jealous of Santana for knowing? Jealous that Rachel trusted someone like Santana Lopez with that information. Maybe Rachel didn't tell her. Maybe she figured out on her own… after all she knows a thing or two about the subject…
Quinn feels her insides tighten. She's once again flooded with the urge to protect Rachel against what's bothering her, but this time she knows. Jesse. Quinn has never wanted to disembowel someone in her entire life but her urge to do so to Jesse is overwhelming her body. She tears her eyes from Rachel's panicked ones to glance at Santana. She doesn't know how personally Santana is taking this but thinking back on the last week or so, she realizes she hasn't seen Santana so affected by something since their freshman year.
"I-" Brittany begins and everyone's eyes snap to her face. "I'm sorry, Rachel." She stares at the ground, mentally tracing the individual grey loops that make up the living room carpet. She's scared to look at Santana. She can tell by Rachel's reaction that it wasn't something she should have said. Her lower lip trembles at the situation she's created.
"It's not your fault, Brittany." Rachel chokes out before leaping up from the couch and darting out of the living room. The girls hear the pounding of her bare feet on the wooden stairs as she takes them two at a time to the second floor of the house.
x x x
Quinn stares wide eyed at Santana and Brittany for a moment before realizing she doesn't care what Santana thinks right now. Getting to Rachel is more important. She reaches the stairs only moments after hearing the guest room door click shut upstairs.
She follows Rachel and ends up standing just outside the door, listening. She hears slightly hitched breaths muffled by the door but still distinguishable in the silence of the second floor hallway. Quinn stares at the door for a moment before realizing she doesn't know what to say. She has no idea. She's never been good at this kind of thing. Feelings were never an option in the Fabray household. They simply weren't discussed. Occasional displays of 'weakness' were ignored and swept under the rug. She doesn't know how to handle such a blatant display of emotions… but she reminds herself that Rachel probably needs someone. She can't leave her alone in there after what just happened. She also can't go back downstairs because she's fairly certain that Santana and Brittany are going to have a lot to talk about after what just happened. She takes a deep breath and places her hand on the doorknob. She's going to have to suck it up. For Rachel.
x x x
"San, I'm sorry. I thought maybe we could talk about why Rachel was sad."
"B, I know. I just… didn't think you'd say anything about it. That's not really something you talk about."
"Like how you don't like to talk about stuff sometimes?"
"Yeah… just like that." They never bring it up so when it becomes the topic of conversation Santana has to try really hard not to let her mind go to those places and remember the things she doesn't want to remember. She clenches her eyes shut and tries to think of something else. Anything else.
Santana passes a mirror in the hallway and smirks at herself. There's no way anybody here would be able to tell she's only thirteen. She purses her glossed lips and smoothes her short skirt over her thighs.
Before she's even spent 15 minutes at the party, a tall, handsome guy is introducing himself as captain of the football team at McKinley and pressing a red cup into her hand. She smiles back at him. She hasn't even begun her freshman year yet and here she is at her first high school party, flirting with a guy at the top of the social food chain. She's spent her whole life waiting for high school and she's determined to start off on the right foot.
After a few hours, she's not so sure. Everything is fuzzy and she can't remember why this all seemed like a good idea. She wants to go home. She's being fed shots of something and each one detaches her more and more from reality. There's a voice in her head and she's not sure if it's hers or if it belongs to the person whose hot breath she can feel on her ear. She can't remember his name right now. What does he want?
"San?" Brittany's concerned voice brings her back to reality.
"Hey yeah, sorry. Just zoning out." Santana squeezes Brittany's hand reassuringly. "But that's not really something I think Rachel wants people to know about, so we shouldn't talk about it in the future, kay?"
"Oh…. Did Quinn not know? Because she's been so nice to Rachel… I- I thought that meant she knew." Santana can see the beginning of tears shining in Brittany's bright eyes. "I didn't mean to tell her secret."
"B, it's ok. It already happened, you can't change that." Santana tightens her grip on Brittany's hand, rubbing her thumb over the smooth skin of her girlfriend's palm.
"I know. I just feel bad. I really didn't know, San." Brittany sighs and leans her head against Santana's shoulder.
"I know Britt. That's why I love you."
x x x
"Hey, Rachel." She hears Quinn's soft nasal voice floating to her from the doorway.
Without opening her eyes, Rachel lets out a relieved breath she's been holding since she first heard footsteps ascending the stairs. She's not sure she could have handled Santana coming to find her. Or Brittany, honestly. Quinn is the safest… And Rachel's had this strange urge to open up and spill her guts to Quinn lately. There's some kind of a connection she can't explain but it grows every time she reflects back on Quinn holding her hand and rubbing her back and talking softly to her in the locker room… Rachel almost feels like she could talk to her. If she were the kind of person to do that sort of thing, of course.
"…hey."
"Are-" Quinn clears her throat after her voice breaks, then starts over. "Are you okay?"
Rachel just looks at her from her place in the center of the guest room bed. It's such a loaded question. Is she okay? Has she ever been okay? In the moment, yes… she's fine. She's not about to throw a chair out the window or punch someone in the face or claw her own eyes out so in theory, she's okay. But in general? In the grand scheme of things? No. How can she be? Maybe she could have handled it in her own mind like she has been for the last few months, but now they know. Santana figured it out and Brittany knows and she actually said the words out loud. So now Quinn knows. And she's standing here in the doorway to Santana's guest room asking if Rachel is okay.
She laughs a little bit to herself. She can't help it. The last time someone asked her that she was sitting in this exact room. On this bed. And look where that got her. Quinn steps forward tentatively, as if she's afraid Rachel will spook. Rachel tracks Quinn's motion from the corner of her eye, watching as she inches toward the bed before pulling herself up and sitting inches away from Rachel in the center of the bed. Their combined weights on the mattress cause it to dip, pitching their bodies in closer to each other.
Rachel closes her eyes again. Santana and Brittany already know. Part of her is compelled to tell Quinn everything.
When Jesse offered to make his famous hot chocolate, she didn't realize that it included whatever liquor was readily available. She didn't realize it even as Jesse was around the corner from the pantry, 'borrowing' from her dads' liquor cabinet. She didn't realize until the first sip of the concoction burned her tongue and throat… for more reasons than just the heat. She didn't realize, and she never had time to talk herself out of it. She rationalized it and reminded herself that it wasn't a school night, nobody was driving, and she was with a friend. She just went along with it, because it was Jesse.
But she's four cups in and now there are holes in her night. They finished Funny Girl and she doesn't remember the transition between movies but they're somehow watching The Band Wagon. She would have never agreed to watch it; she's really not a fan of Cyd Charisse (mostly because she can't dance with that kind of passion but Rachel Berry certainly isn't one to admit her flaws). She doesn't remember the movie starting and she doesn't remember lying down on the couch. There's an empty blackness where there should be an explanation of how Jesse ended up beside her, stroking her thigh through her jeans. She didn't realize until just now what he was doing. They're friends. They don't touch like that. What is happening?
"Jesse?"
"Mhm?" He mumbles; eyes glued to the television.
"Um… you're caressing my thigh."
"Oh. Yeah."
She can tell she's uneasy because her brain is telling her she should be, but the alcohol is muffling the actual emotion. "Stop!" She laughs uncomfortably, trying to make it sound less serious.
He stops.
Minutes have passed but she can't remember them. A second ago she was telling him to stop, but now his hand is at the crotch of her jeans, pressing down and rubbing again. She doesn't remember him touching her again. Why are there spaces she can't remember? Why can't she follow what's happening? Where was she when he started again? She feels a tremor beginning in her stomach. Her muscles clench and fingers tremble. She's losing control. How can she be in control if she keeps blacking out?
"Jesse, what are you doing?"
No answer.
"Jesse! Stop. Seriously."
He does, but leaves his hand where it is.
Her shaking increases. What is that emotion? She can't put a finger on it. Fear? You're not afraid. It's just Jesse. Your friend, Jesse.
"We're… too drunk. It's going to be so awkward if anything happens. You don't want this, do you?" She prods, her voice of reason still speaking loudly in her head even in her inebriated state.
"Mmmmno." He mumbles again, eyes closed. He's had the same amount of the hot chocolate as she has, but she caught him taking quick swigs from the vodka bottle when he went to refill their mugs.
She sighs and closes her eyes, relaxing back into the couch. Control. She's safe.
Her eyes fly open a moment later. His lips are on hers, tongue prodding against her unresponsive lips. She places a hand square in the middle of his chest and shoves him away. He's been kissing her for minutes now… she knows he has, but why doesn't she remember it?
"Stop! We can't do this. We can't-" She wishes she could get up. Get away. She's just so…. tired. She can't make her body move. Pushing him away from her stole the last vestiges of her strength. The fuzzy cloud in her brain pulls her closer and closer to sleep, and further and further from mustering the energy to get away.
Suddenly he's kissing her again and she's kissing him back. It wasn't a conscious decision but somehow it's happening. And his hands… his hands are everywhere. They're everywhere everywhere and she can't keep up. She can't follow. She can't push them away anymore and she can't make him stop and why is she kissing him back? She manages to sever the connection and pull her head from his. She feels like her head is detached from her body. Her neck is a limp, uncontrollable noodle. She can't move her head any more but her face is still uncomfortably close to Jesse's.
"We need to stop. Please. We're so… I'm too drunk. God. I can't even think anymore."
"Mmmmmkay." Jesse agrees verbally, even as his right hand slides between them and begins unbuttoning and unzipping her pants.
"Rachel?" Quinn tries to pull Rachel back to reality as quietly as possible. She can tell there's something Rachel wants to say.
"It wasn't…." Rachel pauses… how can she explain without talking about it? She's not ready to talk about it. "It wasn't like Brittany said. I mean, it's not that easy. I… I know what you must be thinking."
"I'm not thinking anything." Quinn pauses for a moment, waiting for Rachel to say something. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." The answer comes so quickly, Quinn feels like she didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before Rachel's hasty reply. "I mean yes. But not… It wasn't… It's not like it sounds."
She waits. Rachel looks like she's thinking. Quinn holds her breath, afraid that even the slightest movement will scare the small girl. She looks so vulnerable and she is so clearly on the verge of saying everything, but something is stopping her. "I- I can't…" she trails off.
"It's okay."
"No! It's not that, I just… can't explain. It's really not that big of a deal. It's so… stupid. But I just don't want to talk about it. It's not how Brittany made it sound. It's not that easy."
"I know, you said that."
"It wasn't just him. I was there, too. He was… as coherent as I was."
Quinn realizes what she's trying to say. She feels the anger broiling up within her stomach. She doesn't care what happened between Rachel and Jesse, but the fact that it reduced such a bright, exuberant girl to this makes her furious. She's never been that great at directing her anger but she's having no problem with that right now. Rachel is clearly trying to convince her that this is not a big deal.
"Rachel…."
"Look, I know. I just…. I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand."
Quinn wants so badly to talk Rachel out of the way she's feeling but she can tell it's not what Rachel needs. So she holds her tongue. "Okay." She takes a breath and pauses, tilting her head to look into Rachel's eyes. "If you ever want to try… to explain, I mean… I'll be here."
"Thank you, Quinn." Rachel's lower lip trembles slightly and her gaze shifts down to her hands clenched in her lap. "I'm sorry I've spent so much time… doubting you. I'm starting to realize that your intentions are actually honorable." She smiles and her eyes move up to meet Quinn's.
Quinn can feel Rachel's breath on her face. They're so close now. What is this feeling? It's like everything she's felt for Rachel during the last two weeks compounded into this one moment and it's increasing exponentially with every soft puff of warm, moist air Quinn feels on her cheek. She leans closer. Suddenly her entire body is consumed with the unrestricted urge to lean forward and press her lips to Rachel's.
What. The. Fuck.
Her entire body tenses as she begins to panic, throwing her body away from Rachel and standing up. She stammers out some sort of apology or explanation or something, she's really not sure, and she stumbles from the room into the hallway, pressing the door closed behind her. She closes her eyes and shakes her head back and forth to rid herself of the unwelcome thoughts she's just realized the presence of.
You're a girl. You like boys. Big, manly… muscles… She cringes. What the fuck just happened? What is Rachel doing to me? Her stomach is still flip-flopping furiously and her heart is in her throat. Her brain is running a million miles an hour. She pushes herself away from the closed door and moves entirely on autopilot. From the stairs to the foyer to the freezing cold front walkway and even though she's forgotten her coat she doesn't care. She doesn't remember to turn the heat on or her seat warmers, she just drives straight home with her heart beating steadily in overdrive inside her chest until she reaches her room and throws herself still clothed underneath her covers, pulling them up over her head to shut out the world.
And even then her heart won't shut up.
Again, thank you so much for all the reviews. I say it every time, but even just a word or two telling me if you loved or hated it really makes my day!