Wow! It's so good to be back, thank you so much for all the reviews and appreciation. And no, I'm not going to leave you hanging for months at this point in the story.
Finn tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep until he succumbed briefly to exhaustion. Beyond his hurt he was also so confused; he was sure Rachel was interested in him, seriously from how she'd been acting before, so what had happened to lead her into the arms of someone else?
Did it happen because she was confused about him, scared of him? Or was it because she'd thought he was gay, so that had left an opening for this other dude?
Maybe that was it, she'd seemed sort of embarrassed when he'd seen her sometimes, and said maybe later. Like other stuff was going on and she was trying to get it worked out.
But this, it didn't make sense. She knew now he was straight. She knew that he was available, and surely she must know he was interested.
And she had put him off – and then she went ahead and slept with the other guy anyway.
In the morning, groggy from very little sleep, Finn dragged himself out of bed. He was later than usual; he hadn't set his alarm, and with Mike gone and the rest of the wing having been up late things were quiet. But he had to know what was going on with Rachel, even if it killed him.
The floor was still pretty empty, so Finn made his way over to the girls' wing, hoping to be inconspicuous. Yeah, six-three, I never get noticed, he thought sarcastically. But ultimately he didn't care that much if someone did spot him and wonder what he was up to, it was too important to find out about Rachel. Maybe she'd been taken advantage of the night before... he hadn't thought of that, not with what Santana had said, but might he have been wrong to walk away? That would be even worse, if he'd left her at some asshole's disposal, let her get hurt. But no, that didn't really go with the sounds he'd briefly heard and then tried to scrub from his brain.
He panicked a little as he approached – might the dude still be there? Finn wasn't sure what he'd do if he saw him, whoever it was. Deck him maybe. But the sock was gone, so he steeled himself and sidled close to the door to listen. Santana's voice came through clearly.
"So what happened to the guy? I need deets, roomie. You lock me out, I need to get my jollies one way or another."
"There's not much to tell." Rachel – sounding confident, smug even. Huh?
"Come on. What, did he take a second look at your frigid munchkin ass and hightail it out of here once the booze wore off?"
"If you must know, he had to leave early so he could go home and change."
"Trying to avoid the walk of shame, huh?"
"I wasn't sure you knew the meaning of the word."
"Hey, the guys do the walk, not me." Santana snorted. "But seriously, 'go home and change'? It's Sunday morning. Where was he going, to church? Hope he had time for confession. Where'd you find him anyway?"
"He's with the theater. They're very busy on the weekends. He had to change for work."
"Name?"
"Jesse." Pause. "Jesse St. James."
"Oh, an outlaw."
"That would be Jesse James. No 'saint'."
"Already sounds like he's not a saint, banging you and leaving before dawn. Think you'll ever see him again?"
"As I said, he's with the theater. So yes."
The theater... Finn sagged against the wall, the twinge of his back drowned out by the sharp twist of his heart. What was it that Rachel said so confidently the other day? 'I've got it. The other girl doesn't stand a chance.'
What the hell?
Finn bolted for the washroom, not wanting to hear any more. He headed straight for the sink and splashed water onto his face, his eyes screwed up as if to block out the images his brain was conjuring up.
Rachel, rehearsing with some other guy.
Rachel, cozying up to this guy that worked at the theater she was auditioning for.
Rachel bringing him back to the dorms, when the rest of the floor would all be out at the Homecoming dance. And making sure she was going to get the part.
Finn's stomach heaved.
Who was she, really? The girl he knew – that he thought he'd known – she wouldn't do anything like that, ever. Sure she was ambitious and wanted to perform, and she'd had some frustration getting that going before, but his Rachel – and he'd definitely been thinking of her as his – she would never go the casting-couch route. She was far too precious to sell herself for a role. Had she gotten desperate? Or had he just seen what he'd wanted to see?
She'd been so amazing, he realized. Not like he would have expected, or made up completely, but she was perfect for him. Too perfect. He must've projected based on what he wanted, taken everything the right way. He had ignored the darker possibilities of her loneliness and ambition, the side that now came through so clearly in the confident way she'd been talking to Santana.
She wasn't who he'd thought she was at all.
Rachel smiled happily as she hung the phone up that Monday evening. All the tension she had had before, built over the previous weeks ever since her ceiling had caved in, it had all melted away at the sound of that most anticipated sentence: "I'm calling to offer you the part."
She had accepted of course, and rehearsals started the next week. And she hadn't realized how twisted up she had become, having built the stress and maintained it for so long, until it vanished.
Rachel congratulated herself on her success. She had focused on what she wanted, worked hard, and pulled it off – finally she would be on stage where she had always belonged. She felt elated, unstoppable... and her heart went naturally to the other thing she wanted, a certain tall broad-shouldered quarterback with amber eyes and a heart of gold. She'd been sorry to have pulled away from him before, in her stress and confusion, but now she had secured her role she no longer needed to have tunnel vision.
She had seen Finn from a distance the evening before, and again that morning, but apparently he hadn't seen her. She had smiled and given him a wave, but he had turned away, not noticing her at all. It served her right, she supposed, that she was now having trouble getting his attention after having retreated and pushed him away, but all that really meant was she needed a direct approach.
She went to his room, but there was no answer to her knock. She'd try again later, she vowed, and went back to her desk to study while she waited.
Rachel was not a particularly patient person. Not even close.
So after ten minutes she headed back down the hall, and was elated to see Finn in front of her, walking to his door. She bounced up next to him, not noticing the sudden jerk he made. "I got it," she chirped. "I'm going to be Eponine, isn't that wonderful?"
Finn just stood there next to her, seemingly frozen.
"Finn? I'm sorry I was distant before, I was just so tense, it was all so..." she trailed off at his continued lack of response to her. "Finn?"
"I'm busy." His voice was low, a bare growl, his face impassive.
"But – didn't you hear me? I got the part!"
"Happy for you. Really."
Rachel was confused at his seeming hostility. It was great news, and he'd been so supportive before. "You don't seem happy at all. Is it your back?" She reached to touch him, but he flinched away, then stiffened with a look of pain on his face. "It is. I can help –"
"Don't," Finn gritted through his teeth, clearly in severe pain. "Look, you got what you wanted. You nailed it, right? Just leave me alone." He kept his head low as he opened his door and went in. Rachel was too stunned to react until the door had already closed. Then she knocked, and called his name, but there was no answer.
Two more days produced no further response from Finn to Rachel's attempts to talk to him. She couldn't even get close; as soon as she showed her face in the hall, if there was any sign of him it was only for a moment. Trying the cafeteria was even more useless, though surely he still ate sometime.
Having enough of this avoidance, far harsher than anything she could deserve from having recently avoided him, Rachel decided to wait by the elevator until Finn returned from football practice, intending to stand right in front of him so he'd have no choice but to talk to her and tell her what was bothering him. And she waited, and waited. Football player after football player came out of the elevator, still no Finn. She received plenty of leers from the others, but she ignored them.
Finally, after waiting twenty more minutes and having to ignore a lot of snickers from passing cheerleaders, the elevator opened and Finn came out. And he stopped dead when he saw her, then moved sideways to walk past, his face impassive.
She tried to catch the eye of Mike next to him, but Mike just frowned and shook his head. Frustrated, she returned to her room and slammed the door.
Santana looked up from her desk, where she seemed to actually have been studying. "Problems?" she asked, her eyebrow arched. "Not that I care, except that you're being even more annoying than usual."
Rachel simply sank onto her bed.
"Fine, don't say anything. Means you're being a big baby about nothing."
"Finn won't talk to me," Rachel mumbled, her face sunk into a pout.
Santana laughed. "That ship has sailed, dwarf. If he wouldn't take me up on my offer 'cause he's finicky about sloppy seconds, he's not going to want theater-boy's leavings either." She smirked. "Though I have to commend you on trying to have one in town and one at school, guess some of the Lopez attitude rubbed off 'cause I'm just that awesome."
Rachel stared. "It's not like that."
"Oh, did the music man dump you? Or was this a quid pro quo, you gave him what he wanted and he gave you what you wanted." Santana pressed her hand to her chest. "Little girl is all grown up, I'm so proud."
"What?"
"But you didn't really think you could keep it a secret from Lurch, did you? News travels fast on this floor, everyone knows about that Jesse guy now. Look on the bright side, a lot more of the team are interested now that you're open for business, you can do better than that lumbering fool. Better than some theater weenie too." Santana sidled closer. "Interested in a double date? Or a threesome. Britt's gone off them so there's a vacancy."
"A – what? No!" Rachel tried to make sense of what Santana was saying, the story she was telling. Story... Oh no. She'd only told Santana, but – Oh, no. Rachel groaned. Finn heard about it. No, no, NO. Santana continued on, but Rachel ignored her, too stunned by the realization that what she had done so lightly had become such a mess. Gossip did travel fast, and who knows what it had turned into by the time it had reached Finn. No! Though why would he believe Santana? About anything? Without thinking about it, she had assumed that her roommate's lack of credibility would shield her.
I shouldn't have done that at all. What was I thinking?
Impulse. Desperation and impulse. And now...
Rachel took off to find Finn. She had to fix this.
Luck was finally with her, since as soon as she turned down the hall she saw Finn entering the lounge area. He stopped when he saw her, though, and turned away. She raced to follow him.
"Finn, please," she called out, and was relieved to see him stop, letting her catch up. "Finn... about what you've heard about the other night – Jesse – it's not what you think."
Finn rounded on her, glaring. "And what do you think I think?" He pulled up with a wince, his back clearly troubling him again; she made a move towards him, to help, but his look of mixed pain and hate stopped her short.
"What Santana told you, or passed around. I don't know what she said, but you know how she tries to muddy everything." She hadn't said much to her roommate, after all, no 'deets', but she hated to think what the girl's own confused hypersexuality would have projected it into. She could fix this with Finn, but she had to get him to hear her out.
"I think you muddied things quite enough yourself. I'm done."
"Finn, please! I am so sorry, I shouldn't have – " Rachel started to cry at the look in Finn's eyes, so pained. She'd done that to him. She hadn't meant to do anything of the kind. She wanted to put her arms around him, take care of him, show him who she'd really been thinking of.
"Save your tears for the stage." Finn's voice was harsh. He turned away, moving carefully this time.
"Please listen! I didn't think about you finding out – it was just impulse, because my callback was so important – " Rachel's protests seemed to fall on deaf ears as Finn walked away from her, using his stride to quickly put distance between them. He turned into the stairwell, and then he was gone.
Rachel threw herself into an empty chair and cried.
Please review!