Chapter 6

Rachel fell off of her stool. Fell. Off. She looked up at Quinn, mortified, from amidst the peanut shells and bar floor detritus, terrified of what she would see. Quinn, for her part, was completely doubled over with laughter, gasping between breaths, "Rachel! Are you ok?! I wasn't trying to kill you!"

Rachel took a moment to consider her options. She decided that she could:
(1) Lie there, mortified, until Quinn disappeared
(2) Die
(3) Shake it off as though nothing happened
(4) Run

She weighed the relative effectiveness of each strategy and opted, ultimately to stand up, look Quinn square in the eye, straighten her skirt and say, "Thank you for the lovely day. I think I need to check up on my fathers. Text me!" The last two words were cast over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

Rachel's smooth exit was halted by a hand on her shoulder, grasping her and spinning her around. She was pulled straight into Quinn's arms and immediately relaxed into the other woman's tight hug. "I'm sorry, Rach. I didn't mean to laugh. It's just … I didn't mean to shock you. I had no idea my joke would fall that flat." Rachel stiffened at the word "joke." She extracted herself from Quinn's embrace and her face clearly displayed her disappointment and embarrassment, both from her fall and from her complete misread on the situation.

"Still," she said, "It is getting pretty late and I should probably see who has been blowing up my phone all night." As she spoke she pulled out her phone and realized she had been ignoring texts from her agent all evening. The last one was still on the screen. "RACHEL BERRY CALL ME ASAP. AUDITION IN TWO DAYS. YOU ARE ON THE SHORT LIST" Rachel couldn't find the words to process the message and, instead, turned the screen of her phone toward Quinn who, upon reading it, once again swept Rachel into her arms.

"I'm so happy for you, Rachel Berry!" They twirled around once, twice, three times, and as Rachel glanced up at the taller woman, Quinn tilted her head down, brushing her lips softly against Rachel's. Rachel's eyes fluttered closed for a moment and she sighed against Quinn's lips. She couldn't process the feeling of softness coupled with the charge of electricity that coursed through her from the briefest kiss. She pulled back, opened her eyes, and saw a look of confusion written across Quinn's face. Then, she ran.

Rachel ran straight across the parking lot where she stopped to kick off her heels, and continued to run straight back to her father's house, up the stairs, and into her room. She was pretty sure she initially heard Quinn shouting her name in the distance as she fled, but it did not cause her to pause in any way. She was confused, mortified and, above all, terrified that she had somehow destroyed her friendship with Quinn before it had a chance to even get off the ground again.

Rachel opened her laptop and booked a flight back to New York. The one positive glimmer in the whole situation was that she didn't actually live in Lima. She could jump on a plane, head back to her apartment, and pretend Quinn Fabray did not exist. She could forget that she overreacted and kissed her straight friend, that she made a complete ass of herself and RAN from the scene, that she effectively murdered her chances of reconnecting with Quinn, and, worst, that she could no longer be there for Quinn in a time when she clearly needed someone.

She flopped straight back onto her bed, pulled her pillow over her face and shouted, "FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!" into the feathers. Rachel grabbed her phone and fired off a text to Steven. "Turns out I am no better at women than men. Kill me now." Before he could respond there was a soft knock at the door. "If you are Quinn Fabray, I am dead, so please go away. If you are Dad or Daddy, you can come in."

"Daughter, you have obviously not grown out of your dramatic entrances and exits. Do I have to go track down Quinn Fabray and give her the talking to she deserved ten years ago?" Hiram Berry's subtle smirk gave away his feigned anger. "Do you want to tell me what happened or am I to be left to assume."

"Daddy, I am happy for you to assume whatever you want." Rachel was too mortified to explain ANYTHING. "Suffice it to say, being a lesbian is confusing and I suck at it. Can I have a ride to the airport tomorrow. My agent texted. I have an audition and I need to go back to New York." She added under her breath, "before I can do anything more asinine than I have already."

Hiram grinned. "I am going to ignore whatever dramatic overreaction you are in the middle of and say, of course you can have a ride." Rachel's phone chimed next to her and Hiram saw his exit. "I will leave you to that and will see you in the morning. Congratulations, Daughter, on both accounts!" The door shut quickly so Rachel was left flipping off the back of her door.

Steven's response was, as Rachel suspected, unsympathetic. "HAHAHA. Ha. Ha. Ha. Let me guess … you made a move. She is straight. You ran?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Doesn't matter, Ass. Get sexallovertheapartment out of your system tonight because I am coming home. Some sort of audition. Thank G-d I am getting out of this town. It makes me a lunatic."

Steven was quick to respond. "I'll make Manhattans in honor of your triumphant return, Ms. Berry!"

Rachel pried herself up off of the bed, tossed on some shorts and a sweatshirt and began tossing clothes into her suitcase. She heard the "Ding" that signalled new mail, but opted to take an Ambien and pass out. Drug-induced sleep was a far better option than the alternative - staring at her ceiling and rehashing every single moment where she could have done something differently.

The first thing Rachel did when she woke up the next morning was to open her laptop to check in for her flight. She could not ignore the red indicator on her mail icon, taunting her that she had new messages. Since Quinn did not text her the night before she could only assume she would never hear from the blonde again or that Quinn had opted to reach out by email, the more "safe" and passive approach to letting her down. Rachel took a deep breath and opened her inbox. The name Quinn Fabray stared at her. The message, it turns out, was short.

To: Rachel Berry
From: Quinn Fabray

I am so stupid. I made so many assumptions. Got caught up in the moment. You probably won't ever speak to me again, but know I am so, so sorry.

- *Q
PS - Knock them dead at your audition. I assume that means you are getting out of Lima ASAP?

Quinn was confused?! Quinn made assumptions?! Quinn got caught up in WHAT moment?! Rachel didn't even know how to begin processing Quinn's email. She had her therapist's cell number but this felt like dating 101, something she should have figured out in adolescence, and was too embarrassed to reach out to Dr. Rabinowitz. Her fathers and Steven were the only people who knew she was gay and she certainly couldn't count on any of them for sound advice without an accompanying dose of mockery. Thankfully, Rachel's impending panic attack was staved off by her Dad yelling from the bottom of the stairs. "If we don't leave now you aren't going to make it to your flight. Not that I don't love having you here, Rachel, but GET IN THE CAR!" She tossed her laptop into her shoulder bag without responding to Quinn, grabbed her suitcase, and headed out of Lima.