KURT

*--xXx--*

I watched Quinn Fabray as she spoke, her eyes piercing right through mine. If there was one thing I knew about her, is that she was a performer. There to out stage everyone else. She bitched about perfection and Sue Sylvester and being perfect. It could get on your nerves at first, but after 3 hours of browsing through our iPod libraries for an idea for a song, spilling drinks on her carpet and playing Pet Society out of boredom, you got used to it. And she'd cool down after you pitched an idea for what to do next. If she liked the song choice, she'd let you take a break.

*--xXx--*

Quinn dropped an egg onto the pan.

"I don't think you need eggs for quesadillas." I told her.

She didn't look at me. Instead, she pulled out the pita bread and brought out 2 knives.

"Everything has eggs. Trust me." she said with emphasis.

"Quesadillas are bread and cheese. Trust me." I mimicked.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Fine. I guess we're making scrambled eggs."

We watched the egg sizzle on the pan together. After a few seconds, we both went to get drinks. When we got back, the eggs were black. That night ended with eating cheese and bread, which was not bad if you didn't mind the carbs.

And that was it. That was practice. It went on like this for at least 3 weeks. It wasn't that bad. Actually, it wasn't bad at all. I always thought she was a slut that was into perverts. That was my whole image of her. But now, I wasn't surprised everyone liked her. Or why she was as popular as anyone in the freaking school. I finally realized she was actually human. She was actually normal. I was actually fully convinced of this until the 5th time we met up. My house this time.

*--xXx--*

She stood up and cleared her throat. We agreed that I would just have to play the piano while she sang. Mr. Schuester didn't seem against it, so why not?

Quinn's voice was impeccably high. Almost even in my key. But a condition that he made was that we would only be allowed to sing selected songs, by him of course.

"I'll be? Roxanne? Your Guardian Angel?" Quinn's tone was mad, "These are all guy's songs!"

I read more of the list, "There's Bohemian Rhapsody?"

Quinn slapped the paper down on the table, "Listen here, Kurt Hummel, just because Freddie Mercury was gay, it doesn't mean he is a girl!"

It felt awkward talking about gays. Most especially because Quinn was talking about it with me. She probably knew…

But I'd never admit it.

At least, not right now.

Not right now…to her.

"Okay, fine," I picked up the list, "Here. Melissa Ethridge."

"What song?" she was pacing around my room.

"I'm The Only One," I said, "My favorite."

Quinn stopped pacing. She paused and turned around slowly. "Really ?"

I nodded.

"Me too." She said.

Then she took a seat beside me on the couch, slowly taking the list from my fingers.

"We could do Melissa Ethridge," she said, her fingers traced the back of my neck, sending a shiver up my spine.

"Great!" I stood up quickly, walking over to the piano. "Let's practice,"

Quinn had her jaw open, staring at the ground awkwardly before following me toward the piano.

"From the top," I murmured, pressing down the keys as I listened to her voice fill the room.

*--xXx--*