The tension between them is so palpable that Santana would hardly be surprised if they were being shrouded from the rest of the people filtering through the Commons by the sheer intensity of it.

She half expects to wake up any minute now and realize that all of this was some oddly realistic dream, but then again, the thought of her dreaming about Quinn Fabray is even weirder than her current reality and seriously, her currently reality—sitting here across from Quinn Fabray in all her fucking perfect glory—is weird enough.

"You know," Quinn breaks their awkward silence, her fingers drumming idly against her coffee cup. "I had a little speech prepared for if I ever saw any of you guys again,"

Of course she did.

Santana could have guessed this was coming and as prepared as she was, it still makes her irrationally angry.

"Well, I can save us both some time and tell you right now that I don't wanna hear it. I don't want your explanation or your apology or anything else you've rehearsed to rehash at me, Quinn,"

Quinn nods, her bottom lip trapped anxiously between her teeth.

"I know," she says. "I figured you wouldn't want to hear anything I have to say and why would you, right? I should have told you I was leaving; I should have told someone, anyone, but I was just hurting so much; too much to realize that you were hurting too, San. After Britt—"

"Don't!" Santana warns, shaking off Quinn's touch as she reaches across the table to comfort her or pity her or whatever the hell it is that Quinn does nowadays. "Just don't come up in here and do that, Quinn. I'm done with high school. I'm over it and I don't wanna go back,"

"I get that," Quinn agrees. "I really do. That's why I want to start over, Santana,"

"Haven't you run out of middle names for that?"

It slips out before Santana can stop it.

It's a cheap jibe, probably way too reminiscent of high school for someone who just said they were over that, but Quinn doesn't rise to the bait like she would have back then, instead, she leans closer, so close that Santana can see the calm in usually calculating eyes.

"I want us to start over, San," she murmurs.

Part of Santana really wants to believe that. She wants to think that that they can somehow just forget their history; she really wants to think that maybe she could see in Quinn now what she saw in her during their freshmen year of high school but all she sees when she looks at her is a past she's tried too hard to get away from.

She sighs.

"You're right Quinn. Let's start over," she says, leaning in closer. "Let's start right now in fact. You're new to the squad, and I'm gonna treat you like I'd treat any other new girl. So, don't cross me, or I will ends you. Got it? Great!" she gets up, gathering her things. "Nice chat, Quinn"

She's just about to leave when Quinn calls out to her again.

"What?" she asks irritably, glaring at the blonde, which hardly seems to faze her.

"You're right; I'm new to the squad. I'm practically new to the school too. I could use a friend, Santana,"

"There are 40,000 people at this school, Quinn," she replies. "You'll find one"

"So…?"

"So what?" Santana asks, leaning on Julian's shoulder as she fixes her running shoes.

"So… Sydney said she saw you with the new girl,"

Fuck! So, that's what this impromptu jog was about; usually she and Julian just go to the gym together after their afternoon classes, but when Julian wants to jog instead, she knows that really means he wants to talk. She just assumed it was boy problems but now that she knows what it really is, she'd rather talk about cock 24/7 instead of discuss this.

She sighs.

"Yeah," She draws the word out, feigning nonchalance even though she's seriously panicking.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yes, I had a conversation with the new girl,"

"I knew it!" He squeals and Santana's really contemplating ways to kill Sydney if she really did eavesdrop on her conversation; like seriously, people snooping in on her past is the last thing she needs right now.

Fuck, she might just kill Quinn Fabray while she's at it too because this seriously isn't even fair. Quinn's had her "new start." Fuck, she's had it twice because God knows what she was doing gallivanting around New York becoming this true 60's hippie slash annoying hipster hybrid, but this, this is Santana's life. This is what she's made for herself despite all of that high school bullshit and she'd be damned if she let the reemergence of Quinn Fabray (clearly a bad omen) ruin all of that.

"You know what exactly?" she asks, ready to weave herself into a lie if she has to. She's pretty sure she can come up with a very large number of reasons as to why their conversation could have been misinterpreted.

"I know that you like her!"

Santana lets out a sigh of relief that she quickly disguises as a scoff.

And then she actually scoffs.

"That's ridiculous!"

And nasty and just plain no.

"Why?" Julian asks, far too mocking for Santana's liking. "Because she's so your type,"

"Please, you're more my type than she is,"

Julian laughs.

"I saw how you were looking at her during her audition!"

"You mean like I wanted to throw up?" she asks, incredulously. "Because I really wanted to throw up!"

"Well, damn, if you're that into her, you should invite her to the ADPhi party tonight. You're still coming, right?"

"You're clearly not listening to a single word I'm saying. No, I'm not into her and yes, I'm still coming but no, I'm not inviting her!"

"It's cool," he grins, taking off running before she can stop him. "I'll just invite her for you," he calls back.

Santana rolls her eyes, taking off to catch him.

He seriously better not invite her!

Fuck, Santana doesn't know what she'll do if she ends up at a party with Quinn Fabray; hopefully, she won't have to find out.

OMG, I came back to this fic after all. I won't abandon it from here on out, I promise. Review please =) Also, you can hit me up on my tumblr (downlikeyourinternet (dot) tumblr (dot) com where I'll soon be posting excerpts from fics I'll probably never finish!