A pretty QUICK update, no? ;P
Okay but in all seriousness, I'm a little disappointed to see the lack of reviews. :(
I wrote this next chapter in advance so I'll be posting it anyway, but the most ideal way for me to know whether I should keep writing is if I get some feedback so PLEASE, if you like the story, PLEASE review and follow! :)
I'm pretty excited for the next chapters. I really think you'll all enjoy what I have planned, so stay tuned!
Just for the record, most updates will not come as fast as this one. School's coming and that'll surely keep me busy!
Thanks a million to those of you who have followed and the one review I have received; it really means the world to me.
"Eh, get me a venti coffee."
Starbucks Coffee – the wrong place to get a caffeinated drink. Lima's hotspot is and forever will be The Lima Bean, across the street from Starbucks. The coffee tastes the best, the coolest kids come there, and the employees get paid the big bucks simply for showing up and serving customers. Due to the overwhelming amount of these, however, the local coffee joint refuses to hire anyone who can't make a decaffeinated coffee in less than fifteen seconds. Quinn Fabray failed to do this during her job interview, and now finds herself working at a usually empty Starbucks, her dream part-time-job only a glance out the window away. She doesn't care about the customers she's serving – or rather not serving. Quinn's primary focus in Starbucks is to train for hiring in three months so she can relive her interview, and finally make it into The Lima Bean.
So when Noah Puckerman, town disappointment, enters her cafe, she almost doesn't notice.
Almost.
The dead giveaway is Noah's signature hairstyle: his mohawk, sometimes referred to as "the squirrel." There's also his inked arm, complete with a fire-breathing dragon and some other peculiar line designs that Quinn can't quite make out. She watches as he peers out the window and sighs, checking his wristwatch. His eyes glisten in an unexpected way when the sun hits them, and Quinn finds it ironic that such an otherwise rough exterior can be overcome by such a soft feature. No, Quinn. Don't make eye-contact.
"Hello?" Noah asks sardonically, waving his hand in front of the blonde's face. "I said I want a venti coffee."
"Right," Quinn responds, snapping out of her thoughts and still avoiding his gaze. "Coming right up." She spins around and makes her way to the coffee machine where she begins making the young man's drink.
"This place is freaking empty," Quinn hears Noah comment from above her. "Does anyone ever come here?"
Quinn looks up at him, then curses herself under her breath for being so curious. Dammit, Quinn. Focus on the coffee.
"Quinn."
"How do you know my name?" she snaps, bringing her head back up quickly.
He stretches out his arm towards her body, his arms flexing in the process. And damn, does he have some arms. She feels herself staring. This is Noah Puckerman. Regardless of how exceptional his biceps are, ignore them. The blonde soon realizes his arm is directed towards her breasts. She watches as he does so, unable to make words as all that's around her seems to become slow motion. Slow motion breast groping? Focus. On. Coffee.
"What are you doing?" she hears herself blurt out in an accusatory tone as the pace of the room becomes normal again.
"Pointing to your name-tag..." he replies awkwardly, then bringing his hand down back to his side.
"Oh."
She hands him his coffee in which he pays for and sits down at one of the multiple empty tables. Quinn watches attentively as he takes a sip.
You're psyching yourself out, Quinn. Just because he has a man-whore reputation doesn't mean he's going to touch you. He's just here for coffee.
It takes him only nine minutes to finish his coffee. Quinn knows; she's been timing him since he sat down. Was it so wrong of her to hide behind the counter and stare? She couldn't help it, what with his eyes – the eyes that captivated her, or with the muscles – that of which she wished she could feel around her, a new feature, his lips, as he brushed them against the edge of his straw also crept into Quinn's daydreams as she sat and waited for him to finish. Nine minutes.
And nine minutes later, she watches as he leaves, Rachel Berry and Tina Cohen-Chang entering the cafe through the back door only a few moments later.
"Hey, Q, did you see who was in the parking lot?" Rachel asks as she grabs her apron from a hook behind the counter, Tina following.
Quinn nods. "Mhm. He was just in here," she tells the two girls as she pulls off her apron and hangs it on her hook.
"You talked to him?" Tina asks.
"Hardly. He just demanded a coffee and left," Quinn finishes before sitting down at the table in which Noah sat. She settles into her chair, imagining the mohawked teen sitting next to her, his large arms resting on the table as he picks up his drink; his irresistible lips caressing the straw as they had just minutes before; his eyes gazing into hers...
"Quinn!" she hears Tina yell. "Are you paying any attention?"
"Yeah, yeah," she promises, once again snapping out of her daydream. "You were saying?"
Tina sits down where imaginary Noah was sitting, Rachel remaining behind the counter. "I was just saying what I've heard about him, that's all. About his whole coffee-shop-girl conquest."
"What coffee-shop-girl conquest?"
Rachel gasps from behind the counter. "You haven't heard? The news is going around all over McKinely!"
"Apparently he's been sleeping with the female employees at The Lima Bean as some sort of experiment," Tina continues. "I guess he's finished there if he's made his way down to our sinking ship."
"Which means he's probably after you, Quinn," Rachel interjects.
"I don't know, guys, he seemed pretty normal to me. You can't believe everything you hear."
"You're defending him," Rachel observes. "OMG, Quinn! Did he already make his move?"
"What an odd combination..." Tina adds. "You'd make very attractive babies."
"He doesn't seem like your type, Q. You know, I heard he kicked his dad out of the house when he was like, twelve."
"Really? What an insensitive bastard. I could never do that to my daddy."
"Ooh, you most definitely can't let your daddy find out about your little stroke of rebellion."
"Yeah, Q, he might have a stroke of his own."
"Nothing happened, and nothing's going to happen. You're both naïve and gullible." The blonde sighs and stands up, grabbing her phone off of the table. "Gossip all you want. I don't need to be a part of it. My shift's up anyway." And with that, she's gone.
Quinn enters her house after her three minute ride home and is immediately approached by her father, Russel Fabray. He's a strong man, both in stature and in spirit. The preacher at the community church, Mr. Fabray is rather set in his ways and treasures family like no other. That is, when his family is shaped his way.
"Princess, we need to talk," he tells his daughter, pulling her over to the couch to take a seat.
Quinn nods and watches as her father begins speaking.
"Interesting story, actually. I was on my way back from a meeting today for the Preachers of Tomorrow, or POT for short, and I saw a familiar looking car outside of our beloved Starbucks."
Quinn sighs, knowing exactly where this conversation is going. She never gets a break from her dad. He's constantly watching her every move and checking in on her to make sure she's being his perfect daughter. Being the preacher that he is, she also knows he's going to do what preachers do best: preach. And the last thing Quinn wants to listen to after being interrogated by Tina and Rachel is to be lectured by her relentless father.
"Daddy, you don't have to give me a speech about Noah Puckerman. I know his reputation, and I know how you'd feel if anything happened. I can take care of myself, though. I don't need you on my back all the time. I'm eighteen."
Mr. Fabray smiles gratefully and kisses Quinn's head. "That's my girl. Promise to stay away from such a disgrace."
"I promise daddy."
But Quinn's only being the good Christian her daddy wants her to be when behind her back, her fingers cross.
Review, follow, the whole shebang!