Sorry for the delay in posting the chapter, guys, but thanks for sticking with this story! This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I was unhappy with the ending, so I ended it early. There will definitely be a chapter 4, which will undoubtedly be the last, and will have their reunion.
I.
She's got the strongest sex drive of any woman he's ever been with.
He shouldn't be surprised - it's not like Rachel isn't passionate about the majority of things in her life. Sometimes, though, he thinks back to the day he had first kissed her, the day she had confessed to him that she was a virgin, and he thanks his lucky stars that he had given in and made love to her when every - scratch that – most instincts in his body had been screaming at him to keep things as simple as possible between them.
It had been stupid, really. He had known from that very first kiss that he was in way too deep. Probably before then.
He knows that she recognized it too. In every previous relationship, he has always wondered if there was something more; some sort of cliché, 'is that all there is?' that was a constant nagging thought. He doesn't have that anymore. He's half jealous, half-thankful that Rachel always knew that this, them, was worth waiting for.
He had just wanted to stave off the inevitable hurt that will come from their forbidden relationship. He doesn't want to have to break her heart, and maybe his in the process.
That's the constant nagging thought now.
In the meantime, however, there are no more boundaries between them, no more pretense that this isn't the full, serious relationship that they both want.
He's discovered that he likes touching her too much. He loves that now he doesn't have to hold back when he wants to grope her or join her in the shower; that there really is no 'too high to be decent' spot on her thigh anymore.
It's all fair game.
She is, in every way, the complete opposite of the innocent, virginal lover. He can't help but tell her this when he's fingers-deep inside her and she's still in her work clothes (skirt, anyway), and she holds his hand steady until she can groan out that she has an excellent teacher who prizes hands-on experience.
Every time one of them brings up the context of their initial meeting, it's always a little bit kinky. She's learning fast just how to stroke his ego to earn her more orgasms. Not that he minds.
He doesn't remember ever being this infatuated with anyone. One night, he asks her what she fantasizes about (he really wants to make all her dreams come true), and she's quiet, pretending to drift off to sleep. He thinks he may have pushed her too far, too fast, but when she gets home from work the next day, she has a single-spaced, double-sided list printed on the Broadway Cares letterhead, arranged in order of "necessity."
There are like a million different reasons (56 to be exact) why that list is the hottest thing ever, and ends up laminated next to their, well, his, bed.
Neither of them has said the L-word yet – it's the last barrier they have yet to break – but he figures she has to know that he does. Actions speak louder than words, and he's known for a long time that she's in love with him.
II.
The first time he says he loves her out loud, he doesn't actually say it to her.
It's after nine, and, thanks to number 18, a repeat, they only just made the cutoff for when the Thai restaurant down the street stops delivering.
He's grabbing a bottle of white wine from the fridge when he realizes that the deliveryman Rachel is supposedly talking to has an all too feminine and disturbingly familiar voice.
Shit.
He can tell that Rachel, ever polite, is awkwardly contemplating inviting Carmen in from the way she's trying to pull his shirt even lower over her knees, so he walks over to the door to make sure that doesn't happen.
"Carmen, you can't just waltz in here whenever you feel like it." He braces his arm against the already three quarters of the way open door, and fills the gap with his body.
He senses rather than sees Rachel step meekly behind him and out of sight.
His ex-girlfriend grips the duffel bag she's holding extra hard before she addresses him, anger competing with humorless disbelief. "You fucking liar. Not screwing your students, right? I knew there was something about her."
With her accent, her cursing always sounds off, as if she's trying too hard.
He doesn't immediately answer, which he knows will only infuriate her further. Instead, he takes a couple of seconds to scrutinize her. Her hair is shorter than when he last saw her, and she's wearing a low-cut red top that plays up what he always thought were her best assets.
Obviously, she had plans for tonight.
Just then, the Thai deliveryman shows up and he, too, is distracted by Carmen's chest as he accepts the cash Jesse gives him.
Jesse sighs before addressing his ex-girlfriend. "You don't have the right to just show up here anymore. There's a coffee shop on the corner that's open until ten. I'll meet you down there in a few minutes."
It's a dismissal, and she looks like she wants to make a scene, but shoots him a reproachful glance before cursing at him in Spanish and heading for the elevators. This time, her cursing sounds more genuine.
He shuts the door and turns around only to be met with the sight of Rachel, fully dressed in the maxi dress she had been wearing earlier, holding a bag and carrying her sandals in her hand as she exits the bedroom.
"I called a cab," she begins to explain hurriedly, "I think it's best if I go home."
"Rachel," he attempts to pacify, "Please don't go. I'm just going to go see what she wants, and then I'll be right back."
He puts the paper bag with the food on the coffee table; the top still stapled shut. "Stay. Eat something. I'll be right back. I'm really sorry about all of this."
She shakes her head, and looks down at her bare feet. "I don't know," she says softly.
He takes advantage of her hesitation, taking the bag and her sandals from her hands, and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. "I want you here. Please don't go."
He leaves, and she sits on the couch second-guessing her choice to stay for a few minutes before she starts crying, her mind running wild with the possible ramifications of Carmen making her and Jesse's relationship public.
The thought that depresses her most is that he is the one that will likely bear the majority of the consequences. She knows that he has been dealing with the weight of their relationship all summer, but this is the first time that she has really confronted it herself.
She can't bear the thought of causing him that much pain and ridicule; it's too overwhelming.
Before she consciously processes what she's about to do, she's calling her dads at home. She has purposefully kept her relationship from them all summer, knowing they wouldn't be thrilled that she was dating someone more than ten years older, especially if that someone was her former teacher.
Still, she needs them right now. It's as simple as that.
She tells them everything – who Jesse is, losing her virginity to him, the fact that she is head over heels in love with him, and the fact that he happens to currently be downstairs with his ex-girlfriend and colleague, who would likely expose them in retaliation.
"Dad, daddy what am I supposed to do?"
She is amazed that even after hitting them with all of that, they can still be objective. She was right about them not being thrilled, but they encourage her to talk to Jesse. They can tell she trusts him (goodbye, virginity), and they agree that he has the most at stake when ("not if," they remind her) their relationship is revealed.
Even though nothing is solved, she feels so much better after she talks to them; like a weight she didn't know she was carrying has been lifted. Leroy is reminding her of the meaning of 'unconditional love,' and that she can tell them anything, when Jesse walks back into the apartment.
"He's back," she informs her dads. "I'm going to go."
She tells them she loves them before hanging up, wiping at her eyes as she faces Jesse, though she makes no effort to move towards him from her position by the window.
"Should I try to make a run for it before they get here?" he says as he turns to close the door; his attempt at a joking tone falling far short of the mark.
"No need," she answers softly, willing to play his game of avoidance a small while longer, "They trust me. And…"
She's about to tell him that her dads have decided to visit her, and they want to meet him when they come, you know, now that they know about every intimate detail of their relationship, but she realizes she has no idea how his conversation just went.
That conversation could very well have a tremendous impact on just what happens when her dads come to visit.
"I needed to tell them," she admits to him. "I used to tell them everything."
He nods. Then there's a pause, and, frustratingly, he's not being forthcoming with what happened with Carmen.
She sits down in the window seat, crossing her legs underneath her. "I waited for you. Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"
He tilts his head to the left and walks towards her before answering her. "She wants to get back together and get married," he responds, not mincing words. "It's the one-year anniversary of her dad's death, and I think it's finally hitting her that she's almost thirty. In her culture, most women her age are already wives and mothers. Everyone always thought we would get married. She thinks we could be happy again."
He laughs glumly. "She's says she's willing to overlook my … indiscretions, and she will move here."
Rachel nods, not trusting her words, and unfolds her legs to rest her feet on the floor. This is exactly what she had been dreading.
He and Carmen make so much more sense together.
"The whole time she was talking, all I could think was how I didn't feel anything she was feeling. I don't want any of that."
He pauses meaningfully and she can feel his gaze on her. "Funny how that happens."
He sits down next to her in the window seat, grabs her hands and tugs her a little so that she is facing him as they both sit. "I love you, Rachel, and I'm sorry I told her that before I told you."
At first, she turns away from him so that she can hide the smile on her face and the tears in her eyes, but he's not having any of it and tilts her chin back towards him.
"I love you," he repeats, this time looking directly into her eyes.
She surprises him when her response is laughter. "I'm sort of glad you told her first," she says, "And it's okay. I told Kurt, Blaine and my dads before I told you."
"Told me what?"
She rolls her eyes at his grinning face. "I love you too, idiot."
"Ouch," he mutters, holding his hand to his chest in a mock wounded gesture. "That's my long-awaited declaration of love?"
She smiles indulgently and brushes at his curls, but she has other things on her mind. "But isn't she going to tell everyone? Your friends, the other grad students, your boss?"
"Yes," he answers simply, sighing. "But that's out of my hands. I'll deal with whatever comes."
"I don't want you to lose your job because of me."
"Hmm," he ponders, "It's a risk I was always willing to take." She frowns disapprovingly and he sighs. "I made my decision the day I invited you into my office, knowing what I wanted to do. The results have been more worth it than I could have ever dreamed."
"But, Jesse…"
He stops her, because he's been worrying about this enough for them both for the last two months, and it's almost funny that she's just now catching on to what could happen.
"Not tonight," he tells her, drawing her legs across his lap and she relaxes back against the wall that frames the windowseat. "Tonight, we're two people in love, and I think that calls for a celebration."
Slowly, he slides her long dress up her legs until the fabric is bunched around her waist.
"Jesse," she hisses, stopping his hands from taking her dress even further, "We're in front of the window!"
Actually, there is a sheer curtain covering the bay window, so people can't really see them, probably just their outlines, but still.
He raises an eyebrow at her, and she can tell, without him saying anything, that he is making fun of her. He's entitled to it: a fair share of the items on her list involves some form of exhibitionism.
His hands leave her legs to meet where hers are clutching at her dress and he squeezes gently. "Trust me," he requests.
The way he is looking at her makes it clear that he's asking for more than just permission to take her dress off.
She sits up as best as she can with her legs across his lap and lets her hands fall from her dress.
"I do," she promises, and she wants to make this as serious, as important as she can. Tonight feels like a defining moment in their relationship. "I do trust you. And I love you, so much."
She spares the window a second glance before wiggling out of her dress, dropping it to the floor with a finality that's not lost on him.
"Continue," she commands with a smile.
He presses her back against the side of the seat and directs her leg to hook around his back so that she is spread wide open for him across his lap.
He knows just how to work her up, and he takes his time, slow gentle touches that take her from wanting to desperate more quickly than she would care to admit.
Before Jesse, she used to think that men would prefer getting attention rather than giving it. In preparation, she had spent a lot of time reading all the girly magazines for tips on how to please her man, for when she actually had a man she wanted to please. As with everything else in life, she had been determined to be the best. Nowhere, ever, had Cosmo mentioned that the biggest turn on for her man would be getting her off, in as many ways and variations as he could.
Not that she hadn't taken some of Cosmo's tips to heart, or finally discovered the utility of her lack of a gag reflex. (She knew there had to be an upside to that more likely to be poisoned thing.)
She recovers quickly from her first orgasm, and, in one fluid motion, grabs one of the cushions off the seat and sinks to her knees in front of him.
He always loves this angle: when she's kneeling before him and he can direct the amount of pressure and the pace. It's one of the few times that she can clearly picture him as the young, pompous star he was apparently infamous for being when he used to be on Broadway.
He drags her to her feet right before he comes, and he's so close that he's not speaking, just looking at her with this reverent expression in his eyes.
She slides her panties down her legs before she straddles him on the windowseat, and he groans when she uses her hand to guide him inside of her.
He's much closer than she is, and he lets her take control, which she absolutely loves, and he knows she loves. She can feel him smirking against her when he presses kisses all over her upper body as she rides him. When he does come, his fingers are already furiously working against her, anxious to take her with him.
She can be quite loud when she's ready, but this time it's her vision rather than her voice that reacts to the pleasure coursing through her. She doesn't know if it's the window, which her hands are now pressed up against for support, or the fact that he just told her that he loves her, but her world goes completely white when she comes, and she can't stop kissing him.
"I love you too," he echoes softly, rubbing her still bra-clad back as she comes down, and she doesn't know if that's what she's been unconsciously repeating to him, or if he's just responding from earlier; doesn't matter as long as he keeps saying it.
It feels like a beginning and the beginning of the end all at the same time.
III.
Spurred on by the realization that Carmen will likely expose them, their escapade in front of the window serves as a metaphor for how much more open they're being about their relationship.
Neither of them acknowledge it, but little by little they start going out publicly – reading the paper together at the coffeeshop on the corner on a Sunday morning, heading out for dessert randomly at the chocolate shop around the corner, shopping for fruit at the farmer's market eight blocks away. One day he meets her in the city, takes her to dinner, and they dance together on the sidewalk as a homeless sax player plays a cheesy Lionel Richie song. Anyone can see them together, and she keeps expecting a confrontation, but it never comes.
Her dads visit at the end of July, and all four of them go to Sunday brunch and then a matinee. She can tell that despite themselves, Jesse has impressed both her parents. He's smart, well-travelled, and as knowledgeable about world events as he is about theater. That doesn't mean that they spare him, though, and Leroy, especially, gives him the third degree on his parents, past relationships, jobs, and student loans.
Even these answers are fine, if not impressive. (For the record, his parents are wealthy but distant; Carmen was his first really serious relationship; with his contacts, academic and publication record, he can have his pick of jobs at any east coast university; and thanks to the wealthy parents, student loans were thankfully never much of a problem.)
Then, Leroy asks the money question, and, really, there is no right answer to that question.
"What will happen when your relationship with Rachel goes public?"
But, as she's come to expect from Jesse, his answer also displays his level-headedness, confidence, and his dedication to her.
"I'll tell the truth of course: 'yes, we're together,' but make it clear that nothing happened until after she was no longer my student. She's over eighteen, and although it's frowned upon, as long as she isn't my student, it's not a violation of university policy. I expect that the heads of my department won't be too pleased, people will talk, and my contract may not be renewed after next year, but I'll just change programs. I'm dating Rachel, its not as if I'm going to be preying on every freshman girl out there. People should understand that."
He sounds less convinced about this last part, because that's the part he's trying to romanticize to get her dads on his side. She's aware, because they've talked about it, that he's worried that people will see him as some sort of predator on young, impressionable girls. Not exactly the person you want teaching music to freshmen.
She gives his thigh a reassuring squeeze under the table, and Hiram, seemingly having decided that Jesse is worthy of the benefit of the doubt, says, "Your heart is in the right place." Rachel knows that the unspoken words are "But your head isn't," and it puts a damper on her already fragile spirit. No one thinks that they have any sort of future. She herself isn't sure, if she's being completely honest with herself.
Because, with all of her previous boyfriends, she had always had the 'five year vision.' Puck was over before she could even contemplate it, Finn's future was always in Ohio when hers wasn't, and she could never have hurt Tina in the way that was necessary to seriously contemplate a future with Mike, so that was a non-starter.
With Jesse, it's not that she can't see a future with him, it's that she can see multiple futures. She can see the extension of this summer – coming home to him everyday and waking up next to him in the morning – just as easily as she can see him deciding that she and the age difference aren't worth the stress, and breaking up with her because of it. She doesn't doubt for a minute that he loves her, but in all her wishing and wanting for 'the one' to come and sweep her off her feet, she had never before had to ask herself whether love was enough.
It's a constant question for her now, entering her mind at odd moments: when she's watching him sleep, when they're brushing their teeth together in the mornings, or when he's grumbling that she can never ever be ready on time, though he's never displeased with the results of her titivating.
Is their love enough?
Her dads are staying in a downtown hotel suite with a pull-out bed in the living room, and she spends the night with them. They've hardly made it through the door of the suite when she pounces: "So? What do you think?"
Hiram glances wearily at Leroy who shakes his head and busies himself with getting their suitcase unto the luggage rack.
Hiram has always been more considerate of her feelings than Leroy has, which probably stems from the fact that he has read way too many child psychology studies in his line of work as a pediatrician.
"He seems like a great guy, Rachel, and if things were different I think your dad and I wouldn't hesitate to be supportive, but…"
She doesn't expect it, doesn't feel it coming, but she starts to cry; big, fat tears that slide quietly down her cheeks. She had hoped beyond hope that they would miraculously love Jesse and be willing to endorse their relationship. She has never felt sure of her decisions when her dads disapprove of them; she respects them too much to not take their opinions into consideration.
"We think you're setting yourself up to get hurt, honey," Leroy says helplessly from across the room. "I'm sorry, but that's the truth."
She doesn't see Jesse after that until she gets home from work on Monday night, and the first thing he does is ask what her dads said about him.
"They thought you were great," she says, reaching over to snag a piece of lettuce from the bowl of salad he's making.
Her mouth full, she smiles at him, and she knows he knows there is more, a whole other part to the story that she isn't telling him. He indulges her, plays along with her charade, but they both know they're not fooling the other; they're not fooling themselves, either.
IV.
It's early August, two weeks before classes start, and the weekend of his birthday when Carmen's impact becomes obvious. His friends are hosting a small get together in honor of his birthday at the same tapas restaurant in town, and it will be the first time Rachel will be meeting most of them even though she and Jesse have been dating for over two months.
He tells her repeatedly that she doesn't have to come, that they can have their own celebration later, but he quits after she threatens him with a hot curling iron and tells him with finality that she's going.
His hand is at her back as they walk into the restaurant, and most of his group is already gathered at one of the more intimate sections at the back of the restaurant.
Aside from the library, which is not really conducive to conversation, he hasn't seen many of his friends since the school year ended in May. They make jokes about him having disappeared off the face of the planet, before, inevitably, turning their attention towards her.
"Rachel, I presume?" Enzo, one of the guys from Jesse's band, asks, standing and kissing her on both cheeks. "We've heard so much about you."
"Not from Jesse," someone still seated snickers.
Enzo shoots a look at the table before addressing Jesse. "Jesse, she's beautiful. Shame on you for keeping her hidden for so long."
Rachel blushes at the praise, and feels herself relax a little bit. "It's great to finally meet all of you," she tells the group.
But, the rest of the group doesn't seem quite as inviting as Enzo, who is all the way at the end of the table, and it feels like they are purposefully leaving her out of their conversations. Only Jesse is really talking directly to her, and the others often try to draw him into their conversations with pointed questions about developments in their respective fields. By the time the waiter comes to take their drink orders, she and Jesse are speaking quietly to themselves, though at some points he tunes into their neighbors' discussions.
Brandon orders pitchers of sangria for the table and the waiter asks to see all of their IDs to verify that everyone is old enough to drink.
"I'm not drinking," Rachel attempts to explain quietly, but the waiter, obviously having enough experience with college students in this town, refuses to bring pitchers to the table if everyone is not legal.
"I promise you she won't be drinking," Jesse assures the waiter, when someone else chimes in.
"You should listen to him, Sir," one of the other guys jokes, "He's her babysitter for the night. Just don't tell anyone –he'll be fired for his, um, perversion."
The waiter looks uncomfortable as the table erupts into laughter, and Rachel feels like she's about to cry.
"Come on Jesse," another of his friends adds. "Send the little lady home so we can have some big kid fun. She'll still be there for you to fuck her later."
"Never mind," Jesse tells the waiter, grabbing Rachel's purse off the back of her chair, "We're leaving."
"It's your fucking birthday, dude," a woman with long, straight blonde hair asks, "Are you seriously going home right now?"
Jesse glares at her as he hands Rachel, who is now standing, her purse, but the woman is not deterred. "Save yourself the embarrassment, honey," she tells Rachel condescendingly, "You may think he cares about you, but he's still in love with my best friend."
V.
"I don't understand why they're your friends," Rachel says, as he's driving them back to his place and she is taking her hair out of the updo she had spent twenty minutes on. "They were really rude."
There's silence for a minute before Jesse speaks, more crossly than she expected. "I told you you didn't have to come."
To say that's not the answer that she wanted or expected is an understatement, and she's stunned. He parks the car in front of his building and, thankfully, some of his anger has seemingly dissipated.
"Sorry, I didn't mean that," he tells her, running a hand through his hair. "Don't let them get to you. They're a bunch of assholes who think they've made it somewhere. They haven't."
She mulls this over while they're walking up the stairs and into his apartment, but she can't ignore this for long. "So, what? You're just never going to hang out with your friends? They won't ever accept us?"
He pauses as he scrolls through the tv listings, seemingly decides against a verbal response and shrugs his shoulders.
She had been bullied her entire high school career, and the only thing that made it better was the fact that she always had amazing people in her corner: her dads, obviously, and, later, Kurt and Blaine. She would have thought she could add Jesse to that list.
She knows how to deal with these things, and ignoring them is definitely not the solution.
"Jesse!" she yells in an irritated tone. "What? Don't you care? Your so-called friends just made a laughing-stock out of both of us… on your birthday!"
"Rach," he starts, his tone mirroring hers, and she can tell that whatever he's about to say next will piss her off beyond belief. "What were you expecting? That they would just accept us with open arms? What do you think Sarah will say, or your other friends? The people in your dorm?"
"I can't accept that it will always be like this." She's still yelling at him, even though she's not entirely sure that he's the one she's angry at.
He sighs, turns off the television and turns to face her fully. "Well, I don't know what you want me to say."
She doesn't know what she wants him to say, either. She storms into his bedroom and locks the door, feeling even worse when it's obvious he hasn't come after her, and that he's turned the television back on.
She's in his bedroom for about an hour before she walks to the door, flips the lock, and gets back on the bed.
Ten minutes later, he's opening the door without knocking and lying down next to her.
"It's your birthday," she says apologetically, brushing tears out of her eyes. "I don't want you to remember it like this."
She reaches over to kiss him on the lips.
"We knew this was coming," he states softly. "Tonight will be what our lives will be like if we continue to do this. It could be twenty years from now, all people will remember is that I was your teacher and you were my student."
It seems ridiculous that some stupid comments from his friends are prompting this, but it's as if they can't ignore it anymore.
"I won't do that to you," he continues. "I'm sorry, Rachel, but I can't stand to see people treat you like you're some sort of whore."
"I won't do it to you, either," she whispers. "I won't tear your life apart like that."
She gets off the bed and goes to the kitchen, bringing a small cake with lit candles back into the bedroom a couple of minutes later.
"Make a wish," she instructs him with a small smile, and she realizes that they have become too good at pretending that everything is okay.
He blows out the candles, and, of course, she asks him what he wishes for.
"I wished for you," he tells her honestly, brushing her hair out of her face.
Tomorrow, she's leaving to go home for ten days before school starts. Tonight was always supposed to be special: his birthday, the night before their separation, and the last hurrah of the summer before life returned to normal. She ordered the lingerie weeks ago.
"We still have tonight," she tells him, and he shakes his head because he doesn't want to take advantage of her, not if this is the end.
"I don't regret it," she promises him. "I'll never regret any of it."
The next morning is probably the most awkward one of her life. They both know it's the end as he drives her to the airport, but the only indication of it is him kissing her extra hard when they get there and the whispered 'I love yous' that seem especially meaningful.
Surprisingly, the tears don't start until she lands in Lima and, instead of her parents, Kurt meets her at the gate.
Jesse called him. He knew she would need the support.
I haven't been watching Glee, but I would love to hear your perspectives on this season, especially regarding St. Berry