A/N: My college classes have been particularly heinous this week- I'm taking 17 hrs :((((- but I will try to get up another chapter by Sunday! I love, love, LOVE you guys for the reviews, and I hope I'm answering some of ya'll's questions in this one...That being said, this chapter is a little different. Think Tarantino, where it jumps from F to B to C to, like, R to D to F. In case I have royally f'd this up, I included a little recap timeline at the end. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to Charlaine Harris.

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Sookie POV

I smiled to myself, giddy with happiness, as I practically skipped into the school. Orange and brown leaves crunched obligingly under my boots, and I took a moment to marvel over the past two months. Although I had initially been worried about how to behave at school on Monday, Eric and I had decided to just go about our business as normal. We didn't want to think about the potential firestorm of controversy that our relationship might cause, so we agreed to continue seeing each other outside of school on the weekends (when Gran thought I was at Amelia's- I know, I know, I shouldn't be lying to my grandmother of all people, but it seemed like the only thing that was truly impossible was being without Eric).

Throughout September and most of October, we started finding ways to be around each other almost all of the time. It was the most glorious feeling in the world to wake up next to him on a Saturday morning, to share coffee and toast and eggs with him, to read the morning paper together in such a blissfully normal way. I had always wondered what it would be like to be in a serious relationship, but ironically I had slipped into it almost effortlessly.

In the present, I couldn't help grinning like a loon when I thought of our first fight. It might sound ridiculous that this was one of my favorite memories, but it's really the make-up sex that was so fucking fantastic. (Yes, curse word-inducing fantastic!) On that day, three weeks exactly after we had begun our relationship, the topic of Mr. Northman's (I had to concentrate on not calling him Eric when I was at school, even in my thoughts) class had been "women of the Roman Empire," since we had studied about the more notorious Roman emperors for the last week or so.

Mr. Northman had delivered a particularly damning and bitter diatribe about some of the "loose" women, like both Julia the Elder and the Younger (both of whom were related to the first and one of the greatest emperors, Augustus, who was ironically pushing a new code of morality) and also Messalina (the promiscuous wife of Claudius who was executed for plotting against him). I understood that Mr. Northman wanted to demonstrate how seemingly minor players changed the history of Rome and affected the city, but I knew his personal views were heavily influencing his teaching and for some reason, it really irked me. Not because he still wouldn't talk about his ex-wife, no, of course not, that definitely wasn't it....

But as all good history teachers should, he was trying to emphasize that history is generally recorded and therefore formed by wealthy males, and, on principle, I agreed with his method of entertaining other marginalized historical perspectives. However, when I tried to argue that there were other women of the Roman Empire who were effective in positive ways, he completely shut me down. Every time I tried to reference the contribution of a Roman woman, he scornfully tore apart each word of my suggestion. The class was split between being amused and feeling awkward as I turned redder and redder with embarrassment and anger, and as Mr. Northman coldly, and with increasing superiority, dismantled each of my claims.

Finally, the bell sounded and although some of the students were supportive, (Claudine gave me a sympathetic look and whispered what a jerk Mr. Northman was being, right in front of him, as she left), others just looked relieved to be getting the hell out of dodge. I sat fuming for a moment, glaring at his head as he bent to shuffle the papers on his desk. I remember him finally looking up at me with those eyes, which were not the comforting, warm blue with which I was familiar but a raw glacial shade. As I stalked past him on my way out, I spat out poisonously, "I'm not her, so don't treat me like I am, asshole."

I barely registered the shock on his face and felt slightly guilty for a moment, but not enough to turn around when he called out for me to come back. I got as far as the parking lot when I noticed that in my intense rage, I had accidentally left my purse in the room. I realized I could either try to go a day without my cell phone, wallet, car keys, etc. (yeah, right), or I could suck it up and grab my stuff as quickly as possible.

I was determined not to look at him when I walked back into the classroom, but as I approached the door, I saw that he was resting his face in his hands with his elbows on the desk. I could read the frustration rolling off his body in giant tsunami-like waves, and unwillingly, I felt myself soften. Obviously this witch of an ex-wife had really done a number on him. I knocked before I went in, and he straightened almost immediately when he realized it was me. I looked out in the hallway, noting that it was clear, and I stepped inside, closing the door and pulling down the shade over its large square window. Mr. Northman- Eric- stood and reached for me when I did something that surprised us both.

I forcefully pushed his hand away and slapped him hard.

"Don't you dare confuse me with your whore of an ex-wife ever again," I said, shaking with anger, at him, and her, and even myself, "I am Sookie, your Susannah; I would never do that to you, you idiot. So you better smarten up and start to recognize that I care about you, and you care about me, and people who care don't treat each other like you just treated me."

His only response was to gather me into his arms (à la romance novel style) and kiss me feverishly. I channeled my anger into an eager exploration of his body. I murmured a slight concern about the door not being locked, and he distractedly answered that he didn't give a fuck. He spun me around so that I was trapped between his desk and his erection. He kissed, licked, sucked my neck as he motioned for me to bend over it. His hand was up my skirt, tearing away my underwear in an instant, and he had me writhing in orgasm over his fingers in the next. As I was coming back down, I heard him lower his zipper, and I grew impossibly wetter as I thought about the image of Eric fucking me from behind on his desk, at school, behind an unlocked door.

He eased inside of me, gripping my hips and urging me against him in a steady rhythm until he was pounding me into another blissful climax. As I spasmed around his cock, he thrust one last time before coming hard. He caressed my thighs as he pulled out and I weakly rolled over onto my back, still breathing heavily as he pulled up his pants, tucked in his shirt, and zipped back up.

He stepped back and smirked at me, the hot mess who was currently content to lay there forever.

"I take it I am forgiven?"

I nodded but replied, "Don't forget what I said, Eric."

He looked slightly somber until I added, "And we should fight more often, because that was just...spectacular."

I sat up and pulled him to me, and we kissed. Less than ten seconds after I had broken away to tidy myself up, there was a knock on the door. I looked, wide-eyed, at Eric, who directed me to a desk and shoved a miscellaneous paper under my nose. "You are studying," he whispered.

He quickly moved to his desk- the very one he had just fucked me senseless on- and loudly invited in the person at the door. It was Ms. Ravenscroft, who had a question about one of the resources Mr. Northman had recommended. It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn she looked back and forth between us several times with a raised eyebrow. However, I didn't feel hostility radiating from her; it was more like...incredulous amusement.

Finally, Ms. Ravenscroft finished her discussion with Mr. Northman and headed out the door. I was about to sigh with relief when she commented casually over her shoulder, "Sookie, I believe you have a paperclip stuck in your hair."

I hastily combed through my hair with my fingers while thanking her. She gave me a tiny grin but it disappeared when she followed my instinctively panicked look that I threw at Mr. Northman. He met her gaze reluctantly, and in an instant, Ms. Ravenscroft's attitude changed. It seemed like she passed on a silent but nonetheless effective admonishment. If her expression was saying, "I know what you just did and you are a dumbass if you think I will let you get away with that again without reporting it," his was saying, "I'm sorry, God, I know this is wrong and she's a student, but please don't fucking tell anyone and it definitely will not happen again."

After a long pause, she left. Mr. Northman and I looked at each other with mutual relief and I said softly that I would see him tomorrow.

And that was the story of our first fight and the only time we fucked in his classroom. Um, well, there were some other instances...

My mind rolled back into the present day as I entered the courtyard and found Amelia at our usual table. She started to tell me about this new guy she was interested in, Bob. They had a meet-cute when he showed up at her house and she slammed the door on him because she thought he was a Jehovah's Witness or Morman missionary. Finally, she gave him a chance to explain that he had lost his cat and then she offered to help him look for it. They hit it off while they were searching, and now they had a date for Friday. Amelia went over every single detail about Bob, including descriptions of his "adorably nerdy" stiff, white, collared shirt and high-waisted black pants, and I couldn't help but drift a little.

I started to think about the other sexual exploits that Eric and I had had on school grounds. Okay, there were only two other instances, (well, four total, including the bathroom and his desk, and oh my goodness, wasn't I just turning into a tarty little strumpet?), but they were also pretty darn memorable and I couldn't say that I had regretted even one of them.

Like during the week right after our first date, (and about two weeks before The Desk incident), when I decided to get a little creative during my period as an Office Aide. I wrote a note for Mr. Northman on an official slip and discreetly snuck out of the front office. I knocked on his classroom door and when he opened it, he covered his surprise with a slightly bored look. I handed him the note, feigning indifference for any students that might have been watching, and had to force myself not to look at his reaction when I turned to leave.

It took him less than a minute to meet me in the textbook/storage closet that was a few doors down. I pulled him to me and for a little while we made out in the dark like teenagers, (of which I was still technically one, but he was twenty-five, so it was still nice to just enjoy each other somewhat innocently). Eventually, though, we both wanted more and began to shed our clothes about halfway.

As he started to fuck me against the wall, I asked him breathily how his day was going so far. He responded that it had just gotten better, and did I want to come over again this weekend or go somewhere else? I couldn't decide and before I could really think about it, he distracted me with those long, talented fingers in all the right places. We came simultaneously, and I bit into his bare shoulder to keep from crying out. As he stilled, I clung to him and replied, in an uneven voice, that his house was fine, more than fine, even. He pulled back and smiled. We fixed ourselves up, he gave me another kiss, and he left. I waited a few moments before leaving, and headed in the opposite direction with a contented blush and goofy smile on my face.

Again, I forced myself into the present. Jeez, I was worse than an Alzheimer's patient today. I caught the end of Amelia's story and hoped that I had nodded and "mmhmm"ed in the right places. She was glowing slightly with excitement and didn't seem to notice how carefully I was (or rather, wasn't) paying attention. The first bell rang and we headed to our respective classes. I passed the main bulletin board and noticed an old flyer for the Talent Show, which had been about a week ago.

I couldn't help but allow myself the luxury of recalling that fourth illicit incident on school grounds. After The Bathroom, and The Storage Closet, and even The Desk, there was The Talent Show. Yes, these things all deserved to be capitalized, but maybe none more so than the last and most recent one.

The first couple of acts in the show weren't bad; there were two bands, one dance number, and a slew of other miscellaneous performances. I was a little bored until the curtains opened and I saw Eric sitting there in the spotlight, wearing a black tank and dark jeans. He was holding an acoustic guitar and, with his blond hair held back in a loose ponytail, he looked like a freakin' rock god. Yum. After the audience noticeably quieted, and there was the inevitable collective swoon from the female contingent, I thought rather jealously that he had never told me he could play the guitar.

He looked into the audience and somehow found my eyes, although the lights must have been almost blinding. He began strumming a familiar tune, and I could feel wetness seeping through my panties as I recognized it as Dave Matthews Band's Crash Into Me. Later, I would recall that it was an abridged and carefully edited version of the song, but at the time, it was all I could do to stop myself from jumping on stage and fucking him in front of everyone.

As I watched his long, agile fingers work the guitar, and I listened to his tender, melodious voice singing a song that I knew was for me, his lover, I fiercely felt the need to claim him as mine. My eyes narrowed as I noticed a group of girls edging towards the stage, in a move that was reminiscent of a pack of feral wolves. As Eric's voice faded with the end of the song, the entire audience broke out in thunderous applause and a standing ovation. The groupies at the front screamed excitedly like they were at an Aerosmith concert, and Eric smirked in my direction as he took a short bow before heading backstage. I even saw Ms. Ravenscroft exasperatedly pulling away a girl who was trying to unhook her bra and throw on stage.

I silently slipped out of the auditorium and headed backstage. I cracked open the door and saw him standing, surrounded by congratulators and admirers. His blue eyes met mine and I nodded subtly in the direction of the hallway.

I started walking away from the door, knowing he would follow. In perhaps the riskiest move we had made so far, I let him catch up to me before slamming him against a locker and pressing my lips against his.

I crashed into him.

We kissed violently, teeth clashing, biting and nipping at each other's lips until a coppery taste tinged my mouth, but I couldn't tell which one of us was bleeding, or even where one of us ended and the other began.

Finally he pulled away, and his dark eyes said everything. We slipped into the Teacher's Lounge. He closed the door behind us and reached for me again. I pushed him onto the couch, and straddled him, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck. For a moment, we just stared at each other.

"I didn't know you played the guitar, or that you could sing," I stated simply.

He smiled gently and stroked my cheek with his thumb.

"I'm full of surprises. Some of them are even good."

I kissed him, and when he finally maneuvered himself inside of me, I leaned back slightly, feeling so full and whole, as I did every time we were together. I rode him slowly and for the first time, we were making love somewhere outside of his home. Yes, we'd had sex in the school, but it had never been like this....so...so slow, and delicious, and heady...feeling him move inside of me, thinking about how so many women wanted him but he was mineonlymine, remembering that the entire population of the school was only a few feet away....

I gasped as I felt a tiny orgasm ripple through my body, but felt pressure continue to build in my womb. It was different from anything I had experienced before with Eric, even at his house; there was nothing frantic or frenzied or animalistic, just the languid, pleasurable movement of my body against his, over and over and over again, as I rose and fell. It was so real to have him physically there with me, but also surreal because it everything else had literally faded into the background.

I could tell Eric felt the same way. His chest rumbled as he chanted, almost worshipfully, "Susannah, Susannah, Susannah."

When he stroked my clit, I came in waves. He clutched me against him as he sought his own release. My arms were tightly wrapped around his neck, my face was resting on his chest; his head was buried in my hair and shoulder, and his large hands moved in soothing circles on my back.

I felt something wet and cool on my arm and I realized it was a tear. And before I could stop myself, I was sobbing and shaking. Thankfully, Eric didn't pull away or ask what was wrong. Instead, he continued to stroke my back and even rocked me slightly from side to side.

Once my irrational outburst had ceased, I disentangled myself and was too cowardly to look into his concerned eyes. Silently, I stood and fixed my clothing, and felt him do the same thing behind me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and I reluctantly turned around but still wouldn't look at him. He cupped my chin between his index finger and thumb and raised my head. I was sure that I looked like a mess with red, swollen eyes and a stuffy nose, but I fearfully and finally met his sapphire orbs.

They were kind and electric and alive as he spoke.

"I love you, Sookie."

Coach Quinn POV

Something was going on.

Now, no one would ever accuse me of being a genius, but it seemed like every time I saw the smokin' hot sister of my star quarterback Stackhouse, she was hanging around that idiot newbie, Eric Northwoman, as I liked to call him. In fact, I chortled with laughter whenever I thought of my clever name for him. (I thought Pam Ravenscroft would appreciate it too, but that bitch is one tough nut to crack. She must be a lesbian or something, because I've hit on her, like, a million times, and there's no way a girl turns down John Quinn unless there is something seriously wrong with her, like she likes chicks or whatever.)

Anyway, once I saw him follow her into the girls' bathroom (!!!) and I would have checked it out except I was running late and couldn't miss the damn bus that was taking us to Shreveport for an away game. But another time, during school, I saw him leave a storage closet and then her leave a few minutes later.

Yeah, something was definitely going on. And when I found out exactly what, I'd probably use it to blackmail that Stackhouse slut into sleeping with me. Hey, it's been a while and a man has needs, you know? And obviously she has pretty low standards to be with Northwoman, (heh heh heh), and I'm clearly a step up, especially for the ladies who like to be blinded by the glare from my bald shiny head every time we're outside.

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I knew I had to find a way to catch them, that's why I was so excited that I nearly dropped the fuckin' camera before I had a chance to take a picture of them doing it in the Teacher's Lounge during the Talent Show. Now I just had to figure out when she would be alone, show her the evidence, and then fuck her. Hey, it's no coincidence that Quinn rhymes with WIN. Fuck yeah, and that goes for State too!!! GO BALD EAGLES!!!!!

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So I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing, but to recap: Sookie is walking into school on an October morning, thinking about the last two months. In order, the events were: the bathroom tryst, dinner at Eric's, the storage closet quickie, lemons (instead of apples!) on the teacher's desk, and sexytime at the talent show/teacher's lounge.

Coming up, (maybe in an Eric POV): How did Sookie respond to Eric's declaration??? How are things between them now??? (She is skipping to class, so that could be a clue, haha...but things might start to unravel pretty quickly over the holidays.) And what exactly is going to happen with that big, not-so-lovable doofus Quinn???

(The answer to one of these questions is that Pam will knee him in the crotch.)