Hey guys! I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update in ages because my laptop crashed! But I'm now dorking it out at the library with my best friend (I love you Kathryn :D) just to bring you this sexual, drunken chapter (: I hope you enjoy it. (You better do, because I traipsed all the way here to do it).

No, I still don't own Glee. The rights belong to Ryan Murphy and Fox and blah, blah, blah.

Thanks for the reviews!

And greeneyedbaby- for some reason my PM thing was disabled, but now I enabled it so PM me and we shall talk about this! Plus, thanks for the review :D

And thank you so much to everyone who's reading it. (:

ENJOY.

Chapter 5.

Friday 3rd May

2:00 p.m.

Showtime.

Me, Quinn and Rachel spent all free period doing our hair and makeup.

We made it bright, all three heads of hair in curls, and our outfits – amazing.

Me; wearing a skin tight, one shouldered, layered turquoise mini-dress and big, black, shiny platform stiletto's. (I had to practise dancing in them. It hurt.)

Quinn wearing shorts, and an oversized green, ruffled top to go with her makeup, and black pumps.

Rachel wearing a pink rah-rah skirt, and a navy panelled tube top, with black stilettos. Rachel Berry; hot? Erm, I think so! She just needs to change her parting and wear more makeup and she could be one of the hottest girls at McKinley! But whatever. If she wants to forever be Rachel Barbra Virgin-Till-I-Die Berry, then she can carry on with her 'Librarian chiq' look. I guess one can learn to love those dodgy animal sweaters, knee socks, and plaid skirts.

Our group is going second, after Finn, Mercedes and Santana. We all still have 10 minutes left for practise. Everyone except group one goes and sits in the front row of the auditorium. And that's when the doors open, and in file at least 100 students. Alot of the Glee members seem excited to have an audience. I'm not. My stomach gets all invaded with butterflies and knots, and my heart starts thumping in my ears. My palms break out into sweat.

"I'll be right back," I assure Rachel and Quinn, and probably myself, before making a hasty exit.

I find myself in the cafeteria, holding a plastic cup of water in a shaking hand.

'Pull yourself together, for Gods sakes Annie. It's just some stupid school kids' I curse myself for being so silly.

I put the water down on a table, and lean against it, squeezing my eyes shut and breathing in and out, very slowly, to calm my nerves. I'm not usually shy about a lot of things, but this is different. This is me going out on stage and singing into a microphone, which is linked up to the speakers in every corner of the auditorium. My voice will be blasted out, and what if it's crap? What if I forget the words, or fall over? I'll make a complete ass of myself, then be embarrassed for the rest of my life.

"Are you okay?"

I open my eyes, glad someone bothered to follow my swift departure, and find myself staring at the face of Sam Evans. And my stomach does not one, but two back flips. Even though I'm supposed to detest him because he wants me for a quick 'hump and dump'.

"Why the hell do you care?" I snap back, then regret it because he seems genuinely concerned.

"Why do you hate me?" he questions curiously, putting his hands in his jean pockets, and leaning against the table opposite.

"Because, you're that guy," I murmur softly, keeping my head down.

He laughs: "That guy?"

"Yeah. You know, the one who screws anything with a pulse, and knows how hot he is. Who thinks that he owns the place because he carries a letterman jacket and is self obsessed?"

"You do realise that you just called me hot right?"

"You do realise that you just proved my point, right?"

"Oh Annie," he sighs, "Why do you always think the worst of me?"

"Because Sam, at the minute that's the only bit you've shown me," I reply.

"We've been 'acquainted' for a week. I wouldn't say that we really 'know each other',"

"Oh, I feel I know you all too well," I mutter.

I watch him push himself off the table, and walk toward me.

"All that stuff you said before? No, that's not me," he leans down and breathes in my ear, "You'll learn that," his cheek almost touches mine, before he pulls away and clears his throat. "Now," he looks at his watch, "We should really get going, or i'm pretty sure that Rachel will have a seizure or something," he points over his shoulder. "You'll be amazing. I promise," and he actually smiles.

Not the smirk I've gotten used to over the past week, but a proper smile I didn't know he was capable of. It's really charming, his smile. And I don't even hate myself for thinking it.

'Never regret something which made you happy'.

Sam's real smile makes me happy, I decide, and with that in mind, I follow him back to the auditorium.

Finn, Mercedes and Santana perform 'Dynamite' by Taio Cruz, and although I hate to admit it they pull it off really admirably.

And then it's my turn. Quinn, Rachel and I do our vocal warm ups, and then the music starts.

Me: [8] Feed me adrenaline, movin' under my skin, it's an addiction, such an eruption, - is my remedy, - the energy, music is all I need [8]

I dance my way onto the stage, silently being thankful that the dance rehearsals paid off, and then Quinn and Rachel follow me on, before taking my left and right, and joining in.

All: [8] Baby i just wanna dance, I don't really care, i just wanna dance, i don't really care, care, care,

Rachel : in the air, air,

All: she's a meaner, crazy -, disco diva and you wonder, who's that chick?[8]

(A/N: Ect., serious case of C.B.A right now. It's half 12, just come home from work. I'm hungry, and my back hurts, so I'll just put what I wrote in the first place)

The music booms out of the speakers, and I try not to look down at our audience too much, but when I peek I end up catching Sam's eye. And he's smiling. And then I feel as if the Sam I've known, isn't the Sam I know anymore. He's the Sam I suspect I'll relate too and understand alot better.

When we finish, the audience actually start to clap. I beam widely and take a bow as Glee club 'whoop', the audience applaud, and rubs his proudness in Sue Sylvester's face.

Afterwards, he tells us that we need to find a song which suitably promotes 'Alcohol awareness' week. I personally find it funny that no one will remember that after tomorrow night.

Saturday 4th May.

7:30 p.m.

Officially 1 hour left the party at Rachel's commences.

Blaine is dropping me off, and then coming back for the last few hours.

Plus, I need to look hot. Like – Sam pulling hot. Don't ask me why, I want to know if the Sam Evans I met yesterday in the Cafeteria was telling me the truth.

And so I go for the unobvious; High waisted skin tight dark denim jeans. Pink and cork sling-back heeled sandals; a black low v-neck top, with roucheing down the middle and a big pink belt around my waist, wonky.

I wear this complete with bimbo hair and makeup; false eyelashes, perfected skin, light pink shiny lips, slightly rose tinted cheekbones and curly hair.

(The obvious look, btw, would be a mini skirt, or a dress. Party wear. But I want people's mouths to plummet when I drop the coat)

I put essentials in a small bag: Body spray, tic-tac's, makeup and my iPod.

I go out, closing my bedroom door on the way out, and down to the lounge where Blaine told me he'd be waiting. I grin at myself in the mirror as I clunk down the stairs and peer round the doorway of the lounge.

"You ready?"

Blaine nods, and stands, hoping to escape the cynical parent inquisition. As if we'd be so fucking lucky.

"Those shoes are a bit high. Where are you going dressed like that?" that's Dad.

"To a party," I answer. If i keep the answers short, hopefully he'll get the gist and leave me alone.

"Who is holding this 'party'?" that's Janie.

"A girl from Glee Club,"

"Where is this party? What'll be going on?"

Oh my Jeez, what does he think?

"Look, despite the TV documentaries and endless news stories, we will not be going to an illegal rave, and take crap that's sold off street corners to shoot up our arms or anything. It's at her house. Which is big and expensive, so there won't be very much jumping around in case we break anything. It's Rachel Berry," I try to explain, exasperated, "She's the most picture perfect girl at our school. She gets a slushy in the face almost every day. She wants to be on Broadway. She shops at Kids R Us. We'll be eating ice cream and playing Twister, so can I go now?" I say impatiently.

"There's no need to be rude," Janie's perfectly plucked eyebrows shoot up to her perfectly bleached hairline.

"I thought I was supposed to be the one giving lectures," Dad frowns disapprovingly, "Is it all true Blaine?"

"Yes sir," Blaine nods.

"Okay, don't be late then. Off you go,"

I hurry out, Blaine in tow. I'm slightly offended that my own Dad had to ask a second opinion after that incredibly long and heartfelt speech, and as soon as Blaine said 'Yes sir' he was just like 'okay then'. Maybe I should take up calling him sir...?

No, because then I would feel like I lived in the house from that Musical 'The Sound Of Music' which wouldn't be good. It would be embarrassing.

8:45 p.m.

We pull up outside Rachel's.

The party started 15 minutes ago. I know that Mercedes and Kurt wouldn't let her plan this party alone (otherwise it would've been a disaster) and so they'll already be here.

I see Quinn and Britany pull up, so I kiss Blaine on the cheek, thank him, and get out of the car.

"Hey!" Quinn and Brit greet me, and each slide an arm around my waist.

I smile.

Britany is wearing sailor shorts, long socks, heeled ankle boots and a baggy navy and white striped top. Her hair is down, with a slight kink too it.

Quinn is wearing a gold and coral knee length dress.

"You look so nice," I compliment them both.

"Thanks, I came as a Fisherman," Britany beams.

"A sailor Britany, a sailor," Quinn corrects her, shaking her head.

Quinn is so pretty and feminine, and Brit totally rocks the look. Who knew she was a fashioneista?

Me and Quinn just share a smile at Britany's blondeness.

I knock on the front door of the Berry's house and Kurt answers, looking completely drained.

"What's up Kurt?" I ask, hugging him and stepping over the threshold.

"Do you know what Rachel wanted to wear for this evening?" he inquires, embracing the other two.

"What did she want to wear?"

"You don't even want to know," he shakes his head as if he can't even say it, and the memory is too awful, "It took me too long to force her out of it. I don't wanna go back there. No Blaine?" Kurt's voice now sounds a little disappointed.

I chuckle at the tone, removing the black wrap around button up coat which is covering my outfit.

The mouths around me do plummet, and I'm satisfied.

"He's coming later," I inform Kurt, who then pretends like he's not even interested, but he so is.

"I have to admit, that brother of yours is fine," Mercedes comments, earning a death glare from Kurt.

"Fine, and very gay," I point out, sitting down on the sofa next to Quinn.

Mercedes just makes a face, and then I realise that we're missing our host.

"Where's Rachel?"

"Trying to find out which one of the thousand keys unlocks her Dad's alcohol cupboard," Kurt sighs.

I remember the conversations from earlier in the week:

"There better be liquor, because a Rachel Berry party is not something I can do sober," Santana had said, and that had started Rachel off:

"You can't get drunk! It's my parents house, and we're all underage! I don't want things to get out of hand," she'd said defensively, and at this statement Santana had declared that she would be expecting a rather bad headache at about 7:59 p.m.

"Well, i don't care. I don't need alcohol to have fun," Rachel stuck her nose in the air.

This lead to Puckerman having serious 'sexy words between hot Jews' and he managed to convince her to break into her Dad's alcohol cupboard. Only God knows how he did it, but we all know that he and Rachel have a soft spot for each other; something about the fact that they're both Jewish. I don't know; I've lost track of the absolute crap which Puck emits from that rather nice mouth. It's still not a patch on Sam's though.

"This could take a while!" Rachel shouts from somewhere deeper in the house.

Everyone lets out a joint sigh, and then Quinn wonders for us all: "Where's the music?"

Mercedes points to a speaker system in the corner of the room. I go over and pick up her iPod. It's locked.

"IPod password Rach?" I call.

"If I sought after people getting into my iPod then I wouldn't bother with such things as security would I? It's highly complex, so I wouldn't try if I were you," is the snappy yet somehow desperate reply I get.

I type in 'Finn' and sure enough, it unlocks. Smiling to myself I browse her music selection.

Broadway, Broadway, Broadway...

Definitely not party material. I switch our iPod's, thankful that I thought to pack mine for 'just in case' emergencies, such as this one. I'm sat on the floor busily making a playlist, when the doorbell goes, and Artie and Finn's voices join the rest.

"What're you doing?" Finn asks.

"Trying to get this party started, which would be virtually impossible given Rachel's choice in music. I, however, have saved us all. I brought my iPod, you know, just in case of situations like this, which are bound to crop up at a Rachel Berry party," I explain.

"Thank God. The last thing I would've wanted is to be sat around awkwardly with our wine coolers and the Funny Girl soundtrack playing in the background," Finn, who couldn't make the fact that he's relieved any more obvious, says. Well, he could, but it would involve a celebration dance. I've seen him try and it's not pretty.

We start a conversation about the alcohol awareness song selection, and I add the song to my playlist as Britany comes over and sits on Artie's lap.

I'm not going to lie; they are mega cute. Neither of them stop smiling when they're around each other.

9:10 p.m.

Rachel finds the key behind the coffee pot, and starts muttering to herself: 'why didn't I check there earlier' and such like while unlocking the big door.

We're in luck: Vodka, Whisky, Beer, and Cider.

"Don't you think that your parents will notice if half their alcohol stock is gone?" Finn asks anxiously, as Rachel fills our arms with 6 packs of beer, bottles of vodka, and shot glasses.

"They don't drink. This is for guests when we throw parties. And this is a party right? So i'm entitled to it," she shakes her head, bringing another 2 bottles of vodka through to the lounge and instructing us to put it all on the coffee table.

None of us argue because she sounds like she's trying to convince herself more than us.

The doorbell goes.

"I'll get it, you set out the glasses and drinks," she smoothes down her little pink dress, plasters a massive smile on her face, and disappears into the hallway.

"Is she ever not bossy?" Quinn asks, and Finn answers "No, not really,"

I put the glasses at one end of the table, and drinks at the other. The guys each help themselves too beer and Rachel reappears with Puck and Genie.

"Oh! Annie, it's really...um...interesting what you've done with the glasses, but that's not how you do it," she nudges me out of the way and begins rearranging it all.

I sigh, and embrace Puck and Genie.

Genie looks stunning;

Her hair is curled; she has natural makeup, and a green panelled mini dress.

She's still the shy cheerio which I met two days ago, but I doubt she'll be shy when she's got some vodka in her system, and I also doubt that Puck will let her leave with her innocence intact.

Flashback.

Rachel's sitting at the piano in one of the music rooms, when Puck and Genie come in.

"What's going on my hot little Jewish American princess?"

"What do you want Noah?" she asks knowingly.

"Word on the street is that," Puck starts, and Genie carries on: "Your Dad's are out of town," they both lean on the piano and look Rachel expectantly.

"Yes, they're on the – Cruz. But how did you know that?" she asks, her brows rising slightly.

"Its information a guy like me tends to know," Puck shrugs, "So i'm thinking – party? Your place?"

"You just want somewhere to get drunk and have sex," Rachel deduces, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah, there's a word for that; a party!" Puck grins childishly as Genie rests an elbow on his shoulder. She's shorter than him but that doesn't stop her.

"No way. My Dad's left me home alone because they trust me,"

"No, they left you alone because you suck and are a total bore," Genie rolls her eyes and leaves the room, with Puck on her heels.

Present

9:15 p.m.

Standing with Puck, Genie, and Finn.

And I'm thinking about Sam. I can't help myself okay? It doesn't look like he's going to show, which for some weird reason depresses me. Therefore I look fondly at the solution in hand; a vodka shot, and down it before asking Finn to dance with me.

He follows me into a more open space, on the outside of where everyone else is dancing. He puts his hands on my hips, and I position mine round his neck as we sway to the music.

I watch Rachel's face turn sour as she looks up at us. And this is when Sam decides to walk to walk in, accompanied by Blaine.

Ooh, he's wearing a navy shirt, and posh jeans and his hair all messy and he looks really sexy and stuff.

"Oh my God, Finn, Oh my God," I whisper, resting my forehead on his chest.

He turns to see Sam being greeted.

"Annie, please tell me you do not have the hots for Beiber Lady Lips,"

I smack his arm. Hard.

"That's nasty. And no, I am most definitely not crushing on that gorgeous head of hair..."

"It's the Beiber look isn't it? Damn it! It's stupid! Justin Beiber's so gay!"

"Justin Beiber is a beautiful human being!" I protest.

"If you like 12 year olds,"

"Don't hate on the Beibs," I warn him with my serious 'eyebrows raised' face.

"Whatever,"

"You're a dick,"

"You have bad taste,"

"Yeah, why am I dancing with you?" I say in mock disgust, tapping his cheek and heading over to Genie.

"Look who made a guest appearance," her gaze flickers to Sam. I say flickers, but really she just stands there staring at him. And I know that because I'm staring too. He looks like such a stud; leaning against the door frame, a beer in his hand, laughing and talking, and occasionally flicking his fringe out of his eyes.

"Please," I scoff, "You're talking like he's Royalty,"

"Annie; look at him,"

I see her point, but I will deny it.

"Puck or Sam?" I ask coyly, to steer her away from this dangerous topic of me admitting that I'm attracted to Sam.

"Both,"

"At the same time?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Yep. That would be a hot Sandwich," she nods, blatantly checking Sam and Puck out, and imagining that sandwich, which gets me imagining it and I snap out of it, totally weirded out.

I have an overly active mind.

"I'm sensing a threesome," I joke, but then realise that Genie is probably quite serious.

"You won't be joining us?"

"Erm..." as much as I hate to admit how tempting the idea is, I come up with an excuse, "Uh... Christian. No sex before marriage. Especially not group sex with hot people," I nod, and mentally kick myself.

No sex before marriage? Yeah... Good one. That's about as likely as Puck becoming a male nun. And setting up a nunnery in...Germany.

"What a shame. I was quite looking forward to our foursome," she raises her beer to her lips, and I'm beginning to think that she really is serious.

"How would that even work?" I wonder aloud. We both tilt our heads to the side and shake the pictures out of our brains. Stupid over active imagination!

"Nice," I say awkwardly, while she just starts to giggle hysterically.

"Evening girls, share the joke?" Puck appears, with Sam at his side.

I look at Genie. Genie looks at me.

We dissolve into a heap of laughter on the floor.

Puck just shrugs at Sam, and Sam shrugs back.

We probably look like absolute morons, but right now I don't care.

10:07 p.m.

'My heart is beating fast, but my mind is thinking clear' – my current state, which is weird. I feel quite drunk, and I'm acting drunk, but my mind is only mildly hazy.

And as I'm lying on my stomach on the floor, the glass bottle's spinning around the circle. Sam is sitting directly opposite me, and i'm very much aware of how increasingly attractive he is. And it's annoying me. His laugh is really cute, and he has drunk sex hair, which is especially cute because he hasn't had any drunken sex (at least none that I'm aware of). He's just been drunk dancing (which is funny, may I say. It even had the privilege of being recorded. Not by me because I have a brick cell phone, but I nicked Sam's iPhone and filmed it). He and Finn and Rachel were dancing to 'I Know You Want Me' by Pitbull. I laughed so much I nearly fainted. Especially since Finn isn't the best dancer in the world. I mean, neither is Sam, but he manages to pull it off. You've gotta give him points for trying.

It's the sexy grin that's especially annoying. It makes me want to rip his shirt off right here and do the dirty, with not a care in the world that there are like, 12 other people in the room. Including my brother. That would be cringy, but I don't particularly care right now. That's my drunk side talking.

Speaking of Blaine, the bottle stops spinning, and point's right at him. He looks slightly dazed, but it was nothing compared to his dancing. It was worse than Finn's; and that's saying something. Soon enough his partner becomes Rachel and the two lean into the middle.

"Blaine warbler, I'm gonna rock your world," she giggles and Blaine doesn't objects as she presses her lips too his.

Kurt's eyes look like they're about to fall out of his head, and then he says rather hurriedly:

"I think we've seen enough!" and they split very hesitantly.

He is not gay. Not fully at least. 75% gay, and 25% straight. Yes. That'll do.

Quinn spins the bottle and it's pointing at me.

I look at Quinn.

Quinn looks at me.

"Go on then! Do the deed!" Genie laughs, drunkenly slouching against Puck and sipping from the red plastic cup she's actually spilling half the contents of everywhere.

Then there's a chorus of 'Do it! Do it!"

The guys are loudest, blatantly.

Don't get me wrong, Quinn is awesome and super pretty, but I'm not licking that side of the stamp. Am I? Well, whatever I'm thinking, the alcohol consumed part of me shrugs, and says; Why the hell not?

"Come on then Quinny; lay it on me," I say, leaning into the middle.

"You're crazy," she laughs, leaning forward aswell.

"Sensible is boring. Fuck it and forget about the consequences," I shrug, knowing that we'll both be blaming the alcohol in the morning. And with that, our lips lock.

"30 seconds! No less," Finn orders, as Quinn's lips move around mine. I'll admit; kissing a girl is not a bad experience. It's on my list of 'things to do before I'm 30'. Kissing a girl is nothing at all like kissing a guy. The contrast is weird. Quinn had soft, plump lips which are sweet from her strawberry flavoured lip gloss. She isn't rough, or in a hurry because we both know that it's not going anywhere apart from this circle. The kiss will be over in another few seconds or so, and when it comes to the morning we'll be a bit awkward, and laugh about it, and then basically forget it ever happened (if the guys will let us). She's slow, and sweet, and she even nibbles my bottom lip a little bit. I know it's been over 30 seconds, so I give her one last peck on the cheek, and we sit back in our original places.

It's silent, apart from 'Rock Star' by P!nk playing in the background. I glance at the circle. The guys (and Tina) are sitting there gobsmacked. Their mouths are on the floor. Puck and Sam have got definite hard on's.

"Damn," Artie widens his eyes, his mouth hanging open.

"That was so hot," Finn mumbles.

"I want a go," Britany wails.

"You wouldn't want poor Brit to feel left out would you?"

I look at Sam, who's comment just makes me, Quinn and Genie burst out laughing.

Guys are so predictable.