She gathered her dark curls up into a ponytail and stood in front of the mirror, turning her head from side to side to assess the angles of her face. With a sigh of frustration, she pulled the elastic from her hair so that it fell around her shoulders, and she combed her fingers through it in a harried manner.
Grabbing a brush from the dresser and then setting it down again, Rachel took a deep breath before turning to her closet. She pulled a purple sweater-printed with a yellow owl-off a hanger and held the collar underneath her chin, spinning back to the mirror to see how it looked.
"Oh, my God," Rachel huffed, frustrated, stuffing the dress back into the closet and shutting the door with perhaps more force than necessary.
There was a tap on her bedroom door, and Leroy poked his head through. "Is everything okay in here, baby?"
Rachel turned to him, her hands flying up in frustration. "I can't find anything to wear," she said.
Her father looked at her for a moment, and then approached her closet. He opened the door just enough for his arm to fit through, reached in up to his shoulder, and rummaged through her clothes.
"Dad," she began, on the verge one of her famous tirades, when Leroy suddenly stood in front of her.
He offered her a simple blue sundress with a square neckline, the sleeves and hem embroidered with white thread. Leroy turned and grabbed a white cotton belt from the closet and draped it playfully around Rachel's neck.
"There," he declared, grinning at her. "Perfect. And leave your hair down."
She blinked at him, and he laughed. "I hate to further the gay stereotype that we're all snazzy dressers," he said. "But you have such a great closet, it's hard to resist."
Rachel grinned at him, and he said, "Now, your dad and I are heading out to visit some friends. We'll be out til about eight this evening..."
He said more, but all Rachel could process was that she'd be alone with Quinn for hours.
With a light kiss on her forehead, Leroy left, pulling the door shut behind him. Rachel dressed, cinching the belt around her waist and stepping back to admire her reflection.
On her bed, her phone buzzed. She almost jumped out of her skin, almost dreading glancing at the screen to see who it was. She wanted it to be one partiucular person so badly...but at the same time, what if this person had to cancel?
Worse, what if this person had changed their mind about...everything?
With a slightly shaking hand, Rachel snatched her phone up and looked at it. She sighed with relief-it was Quinn, as she'd hoped, and the message read: Is 3:30 okay for you?
She looked at the furry pink clock on her beside table, which read 3:15. "Yes," she murmured aloud as she typed the word in. "That sounds great."
A few second later: I'm excited.
Something unfurled in Rachel's chest, like a spring flower that contained the light and warmth of the sun. Me too, she replied. Very excited.
The next fifteen minutes passed at agonizingly slow pace. At 3:29, Rachel's emotions reached such a point that she was shaking from head to toe.
She had to laugh at herself, at how foolish she had been. How could she have mistaken her feelings for Finn as love? Even when they had kissed, let alone when they'd had sex, he had never had such an affect on her as Quinn's eminent arrival was.
In retrospect, she supposed that she had simply been enchanted by the romance of it, by the old Hollywood glamour that accompanied co-stars dating. She'd thought of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, of Clark Gable and Carole Lombard.
But, of course, it hadn't been like that at all. There was only pain and disappointment, interspersed with a few months of what had felt like happiness.
Rachel knew, perhaps better than anyone, that she was the type of person who yearned. She didn't just want things-she ached for them, she longed for them, to such a degree that it kept her up at night. Where Finn was concerned, she'd tricked herself into believing this was one of those things, something that she absolutely needed in her life.
As much as being with Finn had put her through, it had still been easier to deal with that than for her feelings for Quinn. Somehow, all the times Finn had rejected her or hurt her would not equal the devastation she'd have felt if Quinn rebuffed her.
The front door bell rang, reminding her that she didn't have to worry about that anymore. She gave a little squeal of excitment and flew downstairs, almost tripping in her haste to reach the door.
"Hi!" she cried, her voice squeaky and overly loud, as she opened the door to reveal Quinn Fabray standing on her porch.
Quinn looked so beautiful that it actually made Rachel's knees go weak, and she held on to the doorknob to keep herself from sinking to the floor in a Victorian-esque faint. Like Rachel, Quinn wore a dress, a yellow spaghetti-strap number that showed off her toned arms and gorgeous legs.
Desire struck Rachel so forcefully that her free hand almost went to alleviate the pressure between her legs without her even realizing it. She pretended to brush at a piece of lint instead as she invited Quinn inside.
As they went into the living room, Quinn took her hand.
Their fingers twisted together naturally, as if they had been doing this for years. Quinn's shy smile made the warm, wet pressure Rachel was feeling throb and swell. It was all she could do not to push Quinn down onto the couch and climb on top of her, to kiss her throat and that sweet, lovely mouth.
"I'm-I'm so happy right now," Quinn said, as they settled on the couch together, their legs touching and their hands still inertwined.
"Me too," Rachel said, and as instinctively as they'd held hands, she placed a light kiss on Quinn's mouth.
Oh, Jesus.
The taste, the softness...it was everything that Rachel had imagined it would be, and oh, she had imagined this moment. It had crept into her dreams, her fantasies...but she'd never thought it would actually happen.
She'd intended for it to be just a quick peck, but Quinn surprised her. She cradled Rachel's face between her hands and deepened the kiss.
Rachel's moan rolled into Quinn's mouth, and she responded with a breathless little whimper as Rachel climbed onto her lap, straddling her.
This was all happening incredibly fast, especially considering the fact that she and Finn had been together for a year before they'd had sex. But the desire that Rachel was feeling now had sharpened into a need so intense that it drove all coherent thought from her mind.
She found herself grinding against Quinn. Both of them were making low, desperate noises, Quinn lifting her up her hips to meet Rachel's thrusts.
"Rachel," Quinn was sighing, her head thrown back as Rachel kissed her neck. "Oh God, yes, Rachel."
Unthinkingly, Rachel grabbed Quinn's hand and slid it up her skirt so that it met the soaked cotton of her panties. "Touch me, Quinn," she begged. "Please."
When Quinn's fingers slipped inside of her, stroking rhythmically, Rachel experienced her first orgasm. It rocketed through her, and she yelled out Quinn's name over and over until the incredible sensation ebbed.
Quinn continued to stroke Rachel with one hand and touch herself with the other. Soon, they both came, and Rachel found that Quinn's pleasure only added to her own.
"W-wow," Quinn managed, and Rachel collapsed onto the couch beside her.
She lay down so that her head rested in Quinn's lap, and Quinn gently ran her fingers through Rachel's hair. "Wow," Rachel echoed, and they both laughed, a touch nervously.
They spent the rest of the day watching television, ocassionally kissing and exploring each other's bodies with gentle hands. When her fathers came home just after eight p.m., they found the girls asleep and spooning on the couch, with Roman Holiday playing on the TV.
Hiram gently shook them awake. "Quinn?" he said. "You should probably head home now, sweetheart."
They sat up and parted, Rachel immediately missing Quinn's arms around her waist, the warmth of the girl's body. Her dads went upstairs, giving them a moment of privacy to say good-bye.
Rachel stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Quinn again, Quinn winding her arms around Rachel and returning the kiss. She gently tucked a lock of hair behind Rachel's ear, carressing her cheek as she did so.
"I'll see you later, pretty girl," Quinn said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent chills down Rachel's spine. "I'll call you when I get home, okay?"
Rachel beamed at her. "Okay."
Later, curled up on her bed, fresh from a shower, Rachel talked to Quinn over the phone for hours. She fell asleep with the phone still in her hand, and dreamed that the girl on the other end was curled up beside her.