Author's Note: The long awaited, I'm sure, part eight of this story. How many more things can happen before the prom actually takes place? No, tell me. I mean, suggest ideas...that's what I mean. Leave those ideas in a review...that you leave me...when you also tell me what you like and don't like. Thanks!

Part Eight: Burning Questions

Though he told himself it was happenstance, meeting her like that, the truth was he was he had been waiting for her. He knew she had fifth period English in room 103 and when his fifth period had been let out early, he had wheeled himself in that direction, telling himself he needed to go to the library. But the library had been forgotten when he meandered a bit too long at the drinking fountain, eyes furtively glancing in the direction of the door she should be exiting from soon.

And then the bell rang, the signal for students to rush out into the hallway, pushing anything and anyone out of their ways as they made the mad dash to lockers, bathrooms, etc before the next period. Artie happened to be one such person in their paths and he soon found himself rolling down the hall. He hadn't gotten far when he came to an abrupt stop.

"Where you going, tiger?" her voice fairly hummed in his ear.

Twisting himself around, he looked up at her, blinking a couple of times when it occurred to him that their faces were very close and it wouldn't take much effort to lean forward and - nothing. Clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses, he squeaked, "Hey, Qu-quinn. Going my way?"

Settling a hand on her hip, she straightened to a standing position while quirking an eyebrow. "We do have sixth period in the same hall so why not?"

Any bravado he had seemed to fail him in that moment, so he dumbly nodded and followed behind her. Realizing he wasn't next to her, she paused, not walking until he was beside her again. "So…a little under two weeks until the dance now. I'm so excited."

He eyed her from his periphery, noting the not quite smile on her face. "Really?"

Sighing, she seemed to hesitate before answering him. "I am, really. There's just…something I can't talk about that's not going according to plan."

As they turned down the hall where their last period classes were located, he asked, tentatively, "Maybe I could help you? I can be helpful sometimes and-"

"I know you could help me," she interrupted. "But I don't need help."

Reaching out, he circled his fingers around her wrist. "Don't need or don't want it, Quinn?" Moving his fingers, he let his thumb rest against the inside of her wrist and felt her pulse pounding.

Seemingly entranced, she leveled her gaze at him, parting her lips ever so slightly. "I…don't want it. I don't want to…" Struggling with words, she gulped, before yanking her wrist away from him.

"You realized that you could lean on us last year…" he trailed off, not sure exactly where he was going with the thought. "You and Mercedes-"

"That was last year!" she snapped. "I'm not that girl anymore!"

"Yes, you are," he said, simply.

At a loss for words, she stared at him, then slumped her shoulders. "I guess…maybe, I am. I didn't want to be but…" Biting her bottom lip, she shrugged. "I should get to class…" With a wave, she left him, entering her classroom.

It was only until she had disappeared from sight that he realized that she hadn't told him what she needed help with.

After class, Brittany was standing by his locker. In times past, seeing her there would have caused him great elation. It should have now, especially after the Tina debacle and all the groveling he had done to try to get Brittany to listen to him. He cringed as he recalled the many messages he had left on her phone, wondering how he could have been so pathetic, wondering if Santana had listened to each one and made fun of him. He was sure she had.

Now it seemed she might be ready to listen but he didn't feel excited about it. He wasn't sure what he felt, exactly.

"Hey…Britt." Opening his locker, he emptied the contents of his backpack into it.

"Artie," she whispered. "I don't want to lose you."

His whole body froze a little. "Oh, um…what?"

"I really like you," she went on, playing with the bottom of her cheerleading skirt. "Like my bunny likes the stuffed bunny I bought for it." Bending at the waist, she added, "It doesn't know it's not real."

Ignoring her comments about the bunny, the sentiment was on his lips but it never fell from them. Did he really like her like that anymore? "Can we talk later, Brittany?"

Eyes wide, Brittany shook her head no. "I want to know, Artie. Do you l-like Quinn?"

He suspected that Santana was the one who had placed that idea in Brittany's head but, unlike the Tina rumor, he wasn't sure if the answer to this question was no…or yes.

Almost everyone was already in the choir room when Quinn arrived there for glee club. As she took her usual seat next to where Artie normally placed himself, she heard Brittany and Santana talking. Removing a nail file from her bag, she began shaping her nails, trying not to eavesdrop but still hearing most of the conversation.

"And I asked him and he rolled away!" Brittany was saying to Santana in a hushed and frantic tone.

"Rolled away where?" Though Santana was attempting to sound nonchalant, Quinn could tell the other girl cared more than she was letting on.

"Around the corner!"

Quinn pictured Santana rolling her eyes with the next response. "Well, why didn't you, I don't know, go after him?"

"I counted to five…" Turning her head just a little gave Quinn a view of Brittany slouching in her seat. "Because I thought maybe we were playing hide and go seek but he was gone when I was done counting…"

Curiosity arrested Quinn and that curiosity only grew when Artie didn't show up to glee club. Part of her was worried but she knew, deep down, he was fine and probably only avoiding Brittany. Another part was largely disappointed. She liked sitting next to him, exchanging smiles with him every once in awhile, quietly laughing together at Rachel's many attempts to wrest control of glee club from Mr. Schuester. Somehow, the club meeting just didn't seem the same without him and Quinn found herself barely paying attention.

As soon as Mr. Schuester dismissed the club for the day, Finn bounded over, planting himself in the empty seat next to Quinn. "Hey, Quinn. How're things?"

Narrowing her eyes, she regarded him silently for a few minutes, not sure his angle. "Things are fine. How are things with you?"

"Good and how are things with Sam?" he asked, his words almost blending together.

She blinked then responded slowly, "Things with Sam are…I'm not sure. Why do you ask? Did Sam ask you to?"

His mouth formed a perfect 'o' before he started flailing under her scrutiny. "No…okay, maybe. ALRIGHT, YES! He asked me to get him some wings and ask you about your relationship. I didn't know what kind of wings so I got frozen chicken wings. I hope that's okay. And I'm asking you about you and him and Artie -"

"Artie?" Quinn cut him off, not explaining that Sam didn't want wings but a wingman. "What does Artie have to do with anything?"

"Sam thinks you might like him," Finn stated, shifting in his chair.

Upon hearing that, Quinn tightly gripped the strap on her bag. "Well, that…that's ridiculous!"

"That what I said," Finn replied, with a snort. "He's just Artie."

Standing angrily, Quinn tossed her bag over her shoulder and faced him. "Artie is the most amazing guy in this school," she said, her voice low. "It's not ridiculous to assume I, or anyone, might like him. In fact, it's probably more ridiculous that there aren't more girls like in love with him. But it's ridiculous to think that I would…that we would…I mean, we're just friends!" When Finn just looked at her, obviously confused, she decided to march out, continuing her trek until she was outside of the school building. Taking a deep breath, she put a steadying hand on the concrete wall of the building. Her thoughts were all over the place and she didn't know what to think. Her like Artie? As more than a friend? Sure, he was nice and funny and hot but that didn't mean she liked him as more than friend. Maybe she enjoyed his company more than she enjoyed anyone else's and missed him when he wasn't around but those were not indicators of romantic type feelings, right?

Or…were they?