A/N (1): All of the thanks to Katie (thefrozentofu) and Nikki (thecanadiasian) who, through their individual efforts, have now allowed me to become a member of Ao3 just in case something were to happen to my account here on FF.
A/N (2): I am parisoriginal on Ao3 as well! I'll be adding my stories tonight/tomorrow.
A/N (3): This is in dedication to those two special ladies and Conor (mcclane on tumblr now) whose birthday in a few hours. And, of course, those who've stuck around reading my work and reviewing and all that great stuff cause you all rock!
It's been a just over two weeks since she walked out on me. It feels strange. My first instinct was to cry. I was surging with all kinds of emotion that the tears just spilled out.
We're not even together.
She's not my girlfriend.
We've just been sleeping together.
I am stuck between feeling like an idiot for attempting to say how I felt and feeling like she deserved to know.
She walks the halls like I don't exist. Not a glance, not a smile, or even a grimace. I'm just invisible.
And I can't decide which is worse.
Inside I wish she'd order a slushie thrown at me or something. Anything to know I'm still on her mind.
It's not 'til lunch that I finally find her alone. Totally on accident, too. I promise.
I routinely go to the choir room during lunch. It's practically my home away from home. Everyone knows that. And as I walk down the hall feeling absolutely dejected, the last person I expected to run into was Quinn. Hoped to run into, maybe. But I never thought I'd find her there.
Sitting on the piano bench.
"It's hard to believe this is where it all began, isn't it?" I startle her. She looks like she feels she should've known better than to be in the choir room. "It seems like forever ago, you had me at the mercy of your hand."
She almost rolls her hazel eyes. I frown. It upsets me a little bit, I can't lie.
"What are you doing here?" She asks. I haven't heard her voice in what feels like a million years. I'm torn between joy and sadness.
"I come here during lunch to practice almost every day." I say it as if it's common knowledge. Which it is! "To be honest, I'm surprised to see you here."
There is dead silence and it is tearing me apart. The way she can sit there and take complete control of me without even saying a word is terribly irritating. At the same time I don't want to dismiss her.
If at first you don't succeed...
"I'm surprised to see you at all."
Nothing. She is staring at nothing. Her chest is rising and falling at an even pace and her lashes bat open and close. No other movement.
You get up and try again.
"Why'd you leave?"
"Why'd you say it?" She snaps back at me.
Ah, there it is.
"You can't ask me that, Quinn. I don't have an answer. I can, however, confess that I don't regret it."
"Hmm. Well."
Her lack of expression suddenly makes me very nervous. My breath hitches a little and a small noise escapes. "Well, I don't expect you to feel the same. I never have." That's a lie. "M-maybe someday," I correct myself.
There is a falter in her attempt to stay neutral and I can hear angels sing. This is my shot at calming the waters. "Before you say anything else, hear me out," I say, albeit shakily. I clear my throat in hopes to get rid of it. She stares at me. No, she glares.
"You make me feel things. And maybe...maybe I was wrong to jump the gun and scare you off like that. Maybe I should have worded it better, because-" I pause. Think Quinn Fabray. Speak her language. I grip the back of a chair to keep from shaking, "-because, I agree that love is a very strong word; a very sacred word. But I'm not going to sit there and pretend like how I feel when I'm with you isn't something."
Her eyes glaze with tears as she looks away. And even though it's painful to watch her be upset, suddenly I feel a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. The lightness is almost alarming, like I might faint. I release a deep, quivering breath. My lashes are soaked. I never realized I was crying.
My fingers let go of the chair and I find myself walking toward her. I'm not entirely sure it's a good idea to be approaching her during such a heavy conversation, but I feel an intense need to be close to her.
We're magnets.
I sit. She doesn't move away.
Her fingers lie gingerly over the piano keys, not pressing enough to play a note. I take her hand in mine. She flinches, but leaves it.
"I'm scared," she whispers after a few beats of silence.
Her hazel eyes are bright with unshed tears. Her lashes bat them away. She looks down at our hands, briefly, before those gorgeous eyes land on me.
"Me too," I respond.
Sometimes, her gaze is so intense that my heart races and slows all at once. She tears right through me, peeling away all of me to the core. She's always had that ability, to make me feel completely see-through; like I cannot hide a single thing.
And I know she can see how frightened I truly am.
I feel my hand pulled forward. I shift closer and then feel her other hand on my cheek. I sigh at the contact. I've missed her.
"I've missed you."
She leans in hesitantly, and I meet her halfway. Our lips brush shortly. I hear a small whimper and I smile against her. I've been on your mind all along, haven't I? I motion to pull away, but she drags me in again.
Her tongue glides over my bottom lip and it's like having dessert before dinner. My lips part and her tongue enters my mouth. It slips onto mine and I sigh. There's an all too familiar tingle between my thighs and, God, I've missed you.
It feels like years have rolled past since she has last touched me in this way. Sitting up on my bed, the moment she walked away, I thought it over. Everything. My mind ran with thoughts as I cried for an hour, half of me completely disheveled and the other half in hopes she'd come around.
Her left hand sinks between my thighs and I flinch. Yes. Please. I want you so bad. I want you so, so bad. She squeezes my inner thigh, raking her nails across my skin, not caring whether or not it might hurt me. It doesn't. It only feeds my craving.
Quinn's mouth latches onto my jaw line and then down my neck as she lets her fingers explore beneath my skirt to a familiar territory. I don't have to know how soaked I am, her moaning into the crevice of my neck is enough. I gasp softly as she begins to circle the pads of her fingertips slowly over my clit. The sensation is electric. My body is on fire.
My lips part and I can no longer breathe through my nose. Every breath comes out in small, shuddering pants as she works me up to my core. I've got a leg placed firmly over her thighs, giving her even more access. I wind it tightly under her calf.
It suddenly dawns on me that this is very dangerous. We could get caught at any moment. But when has that ever stopped us? Keep going. Keep going. The thrill shoots through my veins and I bite my lip hard to keep from screaming.
She's pumping two digits now. My cheek brushes against her ear. She's burning hot and panting onto my collarbone. At times I can feel her tongue brush across it. My left hand grips the back of her collar; the other is holding me steady at the side of the piano.
"Harder," I manage to whimper shakily, my knees just as unstable as my voice. I'm so close. So close.
She complies. The palm of her hand striking me as her fingers search deeper into me, mercilessly. Each pump causing a wave of arousal so high, I can hardly stand to bear it. As I start to feel my walls close in on her fingers, her free hand winds into my hair and pulls back hard.
My breath hitches. I hear her say huskily into my ear, "Come for me, Rachel."
The sensation takes over my body, as it usually does, but this time is so powerful, my right hand balls up in a fist and slams onto the piano keys. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The loud, sharp notes couldn't have distracted me in the least. Her fingers curl firmly inside of me while her thumb presses unyieldingly against my clit.
The orgasm pounds through me, stiffening my muscles and hardly allowing me to intake oxygen. It ripples through my veins as the blood surges at a lightning speed. My head begins to ache. My left hand finally releases her top. It's all wrinkly now. Whatever.
My forehead leans on hers and I keep my eyes shut, just as they have been for however long now. I have been breathing so heavily for what feels like a lifetime. I am so lightheaded I feel like I could pass out any second, but her arm holds me still. I take her wrist and remove her hand from beneath my skirt. I finally open my eyes to find that the hazel has nearly disappeared into her blown pupils. My legs shut together and my nose scrunches at the soreness I am already starting to feel.
My hands cup her face and I gently stroke her gorgeous cheekbones before briefly bringing our lips together. I want to kiss her again, kiss her forever; but I simply brush a thumb over her bottom lip and say, "Come over this weekend."
Her gaze catches the ground for a second and I take it as my sign to leave. As soon as my grip on her face loosens, she looks back up at me, but I'm already smoothing out the pleats of my skirt and motioning to get up on my feet. I walk around the bench and lean down to pick up my bag.
I take one step forward and her fingers wrap around my wrist. I look back in reflex, her golden eyes stare into mine. She's so beautiful, it makes my heart wrench.
"Alright." She says it so quietly.
I exit the choir room.