I hope this is enjoyable. I postponed my homework to write it. Always a good excuse, right?
As always, I love to read any reviews you guys have. It helps me and makes me extremely happy!

She was everything I could have imagined with that one kiss. That one kiss.

It was something I didn't know I needed to feel until I felt it. Something I didn't know I was missing until it came and left quicker than my heart was beating.

In a few moments, a few movements, I lost myself like a star in space. I was still surrounded by other stars, but only a few that were close enough to understand just how bright I could be. I never felt brighter than when she was beside me, listening to me, touching me, kissing me.

I think she saw me then. I think she felt me when I gripped onto her. As soon as she got close, I knew I couldn't let her go ever again.

But I did let her go. I let her leave.

She got up, and she just left.

She left me feeling so full and empty at the same time.

Quinn didn't know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something. She left Santana in bed after she basically attacked her with her mouth.

She was an idiot for leaving, and she knew it. She just didn't know the best way to go about fixing things. Were things broken? They were probably a little messed up. Kiss and leave with no explanation. Santana had to have been confused at least. Or maybe she didn't care at all.

Maybe Quinn was too caught up in how much she cared for Santana to think that maybe Santana was just in it to get her rocks off.

No, that couldn't be true. She said Quinn had made her feel safe. That had to mean something, something more.

Quinn needed to talk to Santana and clear things up.

Quinn had never really been good at words. She always found that other people knew how to explain feelings better than she did. Through books, through poetry, through lyrics. She stumbled around simple words, whereas others seemed to come across them gracefully.

She wanted to be better at speaking how she felt or at least writing her feelings and thoughts down.

That's why she chose to minor in English Literature. No one knew that. Not even Santana. She didn't want anyone to know that part of her, that weakness. That need to express herself in a way she didn't quite know how.

She had taken a few classes at Yale, but they didn't seem to help her as much as she had hoped, except for one class. Intro to poetry.

At first, she didn't understand much of anything. All she could see was beautiful imagery and powerful emotions. She knew what she was supposed to feel when reading certain things, but she didn't understand the significance of repetition or why having so many syllables in one line meant something important.

When it came to analyzing the poem and figuring out why a piece was structured the way it was, she was at a loss. But if she was asked why a poem felt sad or happy or what the author meant for the reader to feel, she just knew.

She may not have figured out the 'better' way to structure a poem, but she learned how to better write down her feelings enough to the point that her message got across to the reader, at least she hoped she had.

The first poem she had to write for her class seemed awful. There was no proper structure. There wasn't really any imagery, but there had been feeling.

Quinn wasn't surprised when she got her poem back with a note from her professor on it asking to see her after class.

There was no grade on it, just the note. Of course Quinn thought she had failed.

She went up to her professor after class as requested.

"Do you know why I wanted to talk to you?" her professor asked.

"Because I tried to go by your guidelines and everything we've studied when I wrote the poem, but my structure was horrible, which probably means I failed, and that's what you wanted to tell me. That I failed," Quinn slumped a little in the desk that she had chosen to sit down in. If she had chosen to stand, she knew she'd regret it because her knees never took rejection or failure well.

"You're right, partially. You didn't follow the rubric on how the poem should be structured, but I saw that you tried to say something with the words you wrote, something I know you've been struggling with all semester. That counts for something. Emotions count. Effort counts. I wanted to talk to you to tell you that I think you have potential. You have a lot of feelings inside that I think you want to share, but you seem hesitant. There's a whole story that can be told in just a few words. Find those words. Don't be afraid to say how you feel. Don't be afraid to feel how you feel. Write it down. If it scares you, let it. Let that fear find your words and scare everyone that reads them. Isn't that the point of it all?"

"Of what?"

"Of everything. Connection. Life. We all want to feel connected to someone through our experiences no matter how scary, lovely, or ridiculous they may seem. We just want to know someone else feels them and understands, too. Let your fear empower you to release yourself and maybe even help others. Do that and you can never go wrong."

"But what if I don't know how," she whispered.

"You do. Here, I want you to take this poem and forget about any kind of structure. Forget about any kind of rules. Tell me what you feel. Short and sweet. Tell me a story. Let me know and feel everything you have to say. I don't want a novel long piece. I want something that will fit nicely in the palm of my hand that I can carry around and feel the weight of your words. Do that and come back to me."

And she did. She let everything in her that told her about rules and guidelines to fuck off.

She turned her revised poem in the next day and didn't care if she failed. She did what he asked. She let herself feel something. Jealousy. Love. Heartbreak. Truth.

She got her poem back at the end of the next class, and all it said was, "Thank you."

Quinn knew she wanted to take more writing classes after that. She knew NYU had a really good art program and a great deal of classes that ranged from creative writing to Shakespeare to literary theory. More than she wanted to admit, that was a big reason in why she decided to transfer.

English Literature still wasn't her major, but she was taking enough classes in that department that it would help her learn to better express her emotions and possibly help her stay sane. NYU just seemed like the better choice in comparison if she wanted to write more, but still get away with studying pre-law.

Quinn was still at Kurt's when she decided to text Santana.

QUINN: Drinks tonight? We should talk.

It felt like it was taking Santana forever to respond.

"What if she doesn't text me back? What if she doesn't want to talk to me or even see me, Kurt," Quinn asked, panic evident in her voice.

"She'll text you back. Give her a little time. I'm sure you just blew her mind with your lips, dear," he quickly replied. "In the meantime, why don't we go get some food? I believe I am starving. How about pizza? It's nearly lunchtime, right? Eleven is close enough."

Pizza didn't sound appetizing at all, but going out would be a good distraction.

Pizza it was.

I read over the text for the fifteenth time. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to respond to what had happened.

What did Quinn want to talk about? How it was a mistake? How I made her feel awkward? How she didn't want to be roommates anymore?

I couldn't think like that. I couldn't go there. If I kept thinking I would drive myself insane. I definitely didn't want to talk to Quinn anytime soon.

It was a good thing I had work that night. I needed to not let my mind wander.

I needed to at least tell Quinn that I couldn't talk. Not yet.

SANTANA: Can't. Work. TTYL.

It was short, simple, and to the point. True Santana didn't need to know how insecure I was feeling at the moment.

She had a way of usually seeing through any mask I tried to use, but there's no way she would be able to through texts. I could hope, at least.

I figured I might as well get out of the apartment. I didn't want to be near my bed. I couldn't handle replaying that kiss over in my head just to remind myself that Quinn probably thought it was a mistake.

I got ready and sent out another text.

SANTANA: You busy?

ASHLEY: Grabbing some doughnuts and coffee. Is that busy? I call that life.

I laughed a little. Ashley really had turned out to be a pretty cool person. Over the past three weeks we had gotten a little closer.

It helped that Ashley didn't let me get away with any of my shit and that she knew about Quinn. It was nice having someone around to keep me in check when I needed it.

On a night we both didn't have to work we went out to some club I had never heard of before, but Ashley assured me it was "my type."

A gay club. She took me to a gay club. I didn't know how she had figured out I was gay. I hadn't told her.

Right before I was about to get my macks on with some hottie, she yanked me away towards the bathroom.

It was safe to say I was past tipsy when I tripped over my own heels.

"What are you doing? You're going to ruin any chance you might have," she yelled at me.

"What are you talking about? Didn't you just ruin my chance? She was really hot. I don't think I was ruining it, considering her hand was on my ass," I spat back at her.

"Quinn."

That's all she said as her eyes narrowed down at me.

Of course she figured out I was interested in girls or at least a girl by the way I talked about Quinn all the time. I had been pretty obvious.

Just saying her name seemed to have sobered me up a little. That's all Ashley needed to say to get me back on track.

I nodded and mumbled a quiet thanks before she smiled back at me.

When we walked back out to the dance floor the hottie from before tried to restart what had been interrupted, but hearing Quinn's name had made everyone around me seem less than in comparison.

I suppose you could say that night was a milestone in my recognition of feelings for Quinn. Just hearing the damn girls name had made things different.

A few more shots in me, and I had spilled the whole Quinn story to Ashley. All she said was that I better not be a dick and try to kiss some girl when I had the possibility of making something "vagtastic" with Quinn. Yes, she said "vagtastic."

SANTANA: Feel like hanging for a bit before work?

ASHLEY: Sure. I don't have to work, but I can drink while you do. I think I need help eating these doughnuts. Come over, skank.

Skank? How original. Regardless, that sounded like a plan. She texted me the address of the doughnut shop she was at, and I was there within half an hour.

I found her seated towards the back.

"I don't know what I was thinking getting this many doughnuts. I ate three, but there are still nine left. What the fuck am I going to do with the rest of these?" she stared at the box full of mixed doughnuts with a curious smirk on her face.

"If you're coming to work with me, you could always give em to Jimmy. You know he'll eat just about anything," I shrugged.

"Oh, excellent idea. He loves when I bring him snacks," she grinned.

I started to twirl my thumbs in a circle. A nervous habit I had developed over the years.

She squinted one eye at me.

"Okay, Santana, spill. That nervous gesture of yours is telling me that you either broke something expensive, made a dick move that screwed something up, or you got some girl pregnant. Going to go with it's one of the first two considering you don't have the proper equipment for that last one."

Hm. She was getting to know me too well.

"It's about Quinn."

"Ah, beauty blonde is coming in town Saturday. You thinking about telling her that you're a closeted romantic with all of those mushy gushy lovey dovey feelings for her?" she smirked evilly.

Seriously, I don't talk about Quinn that much. Not enough to get that kind of response. Well, maybe I did. Sue me.

"She got in last night."

"Ooh, early homecoming. Was there sex? I bet there was sex after you told her of your undying love," she said as she grabbed her chest and sighed, dramatizing a person thinking of heartfelt love.

"Shut up. There wasn't any sex."

"Then what's got you all twitchy. For real, you need to stop. I feel like I'm getting dizzy just from watching your thumbs race around each other."

"I might have told her about some of my feelings, and we might have kissed."

She sat up straighter in her chair. "Finall-"

"No." I cut her off. "She ran off right after. She said she had to go talk to one of her professors, but I'm pretty sure that was a lie. She's only met her advisor. She shouldn't be meeting her professors until next week."

"Oh, well, shit." She gave me a glum look.

"Yeah. I don't even know what happened. I mean, she started the kiss. She got on top of me!" I yelled.

I got a few looks at my outburst, but fuck them. I didn't care if anyone else was listening.

"That sounds like a fun time, except for the leaving part. That probably wasn't that fun."

I rolled my eyes at her. Way to state the obvious.

"It was more than that. My stupid mouth finally told her things I had been holding in for longer than I even knew. Then my stupid mouth kissed her, and it was more than amazing. It was beyond anything. Like that Seth guy you always talk about. It was like that, but better."

"Oh, Seth, if it was like Seth, it must have been mind blowing. That man knew exactly what he was doing with those lips. Fuck, the way he-"

"Okay, I really don't need any more details. I got the picture."

She looked down at her doughnuts, contemplating her next sentence, I assumed.

"You let everything out, and she kissed you," she stated rather than questioned. "Then she left."

"Yes, yes, and yes."

"Has she tried to talk to you since?"

I started to twirl my thumbs again.

"I'll take that as a yes. What'd she say?"

"She texted and said she wanted to talk."

"Let me guess, you said something snarky instead of agreeing to talk," she just looked at me like I was a complete idiot. Maybe I was.

I nodded and continued to stare at my thumbs. At least they wouldn't give me a glare that made me feel like a complete dumbass.

"Dude!" she pushed my shoulder. "What the literal fuck, man? How many times do we have to go over this? You like Quinn. You call her Quinnie. That's dorky and adorable. You really, really like her. When you really like someone, you grow a vagina and you face it."

"But she's the one who left!" I tried to defend myself.

"Yes, but she made an attempt to discuss things right after, and you just pushed her away. You've got to stop doing that. Your bitchy comments get you nowhere unless you're telling some drunk perv to get lost at the bar."

She was right. "I know, I know. I just felt hurt, okay? I don't share my feelings that often. It usually only happens when I'm intoxicated. She just left. I didn't know what to do. She could want to talk just to tell me she's straight, which she has been for like ever."

"A girl sitting on you and kissing you doesn't sound very straight to me. Just go find her and talk to her."

"I can't. I have to go to work, remember?"

"Fine, but after work you're going to have to face her and talk that shit out. You don't know how she feels. Maybe she likes you so much she just got overwhelmed with those pouty lips of yours and needed a major breather," she jested to try and lighten the mood.

It wasn't really helping, and she could tell.

"Listen, it'll be fine. I'll get the DJ to play your favorite mix tonight."

That was slightly helping.

"And I'll help you set up."

That was definitely helping. I hated setting up.

"Slice the fruit for me?" I asked.

"Yes. You really shouldn't be allowed near a knife anyways. You cut yourself like every time," she chuckled.

"Okay, whatever. Let's go. I need something else to preoccupy my mind."

We got to Shadow's soon after leaving the doughnut shop. Jimmy gave us a curious face before noticing the box in Ashley's hands.

She just laughed and handed them over.

I asked him to put on some music, and he gladly agreed with a doughnut already halfway in his mouth, not even asking why we were so early.

Ashley helped me set up, and we talked about my upcoming class with Holly Holliday. She didn't mention Quinn again.

We goofed off a little bit and danced around while making sure everything was stocked. Ashley tried to sing to a few songs, and she wasn't that bad. Definitely not as good as me, but those were few and far between.

She pushed me when I told her that, and continued to sing even louder.

I had to grab some stuff from the back before people started showing up. Time had started to go by quicker when I let myself stop worrying about Quinn so much.

Before I knew it the place was packed and people were screaming out drink orders as usual. Another guy was bartending with me, but he wasn't as quick as Ashley, and he didn't really talk or dance as much, therefore he wasn't as fun.

Ashley just sat on a bar stool and made me feed her liquor.

"Can I have – what are those drinks with the umbrellas?"

"Just get a margarita. You like margaritas, Kurt."

I froze at the voice.

"Right, can I have a margarita, please, Santana," Kurt asked excitedly.

I turned around to see Kurt with a big grin on his face and Quinn looking around nervously.

"Oh, and Quinn would like a gross drink," he grimaced.

"Um, a rum and coke would be fine, San, if you don't mind."

"Sure. It's my job," I simply stated and turned back around to grab the good liquor. I could be a bitch and still give them the good liquor.

I made their drinks and caught a glare from Ashley. Of course she caught me being bitchy.

"Thank you. Now, if you ladies excuse me, I believe Ashley promised me a dance."

Kurt grabbed Ashley's hand and sauntered off towards the dance floor.

I looked at Quinn who was full on staring at me now. She choked on her drink a little.

Frank walked by and told me it was time for my break. Great timing, Frank.

I walked out from the bar towards Quinn.

"She promised him a dance? She doesn't even know him."

"Yeah, she, well, she texted me earlier. She promised him a dance if we promised we would come down," she explained.

She didn't even have her number, though.

Quinn most have gotten what I was thinking.

"She probably took your phone when you weren't looking and got my number from it."

"Yeah, I'm going to have to hit her for that," I said.

"What? Sorry, it's a little hard to hear you."

"I said I'm going to have to deck her," I said a little louder.

The bass line in the song that was playing got louder.

"What?"

She still couldn't hear me. I leaned in closer.

"Nevermind," I laughed into her ear, completely forgetting about any anxious feelings. "I'm glad you came by."

My hand lingered on her arm as I leaned back to see her expression.

She gave me that fucking smile again. The one that makes me swoon. The one where she looks happy and nervous at the same time, her lip curled up to one side as her head ducks down.

I put my other hand on her chin and lifted her face back up to look at me. Those lips.

The kiss came flashing back into my mind, and it was everything I wanted to repeat over and over until I couldn't breathe.

She looked into my eyes, and her smile grew as she placed her hand on my waist.

She came closer to me, and started to whisper in my ear as my hand fell down to my side.

"San, I'm sorry."

I shook my head. She didn't need to be sorry for anything.

"No, I mean it. I didn't go to see my professor. I just needed to think. I went to see Kurt. I needed to talk."

Before I could calm myself down, my mouth took control.

I pulled away from her. "Kurt? I tell you something I've never told anyone about something that only you've made me feel and then you, Quinn, you fucking kiss me just to get up and leave to go fucking talk to Kurt? That's messed up," I yelled loud enough for probably half of the bar to hear.

I walked away before she could say anything back. She didn't have the right to defend herself. Kurt? She went to Kurt? Since when did she go to Kurt? I was her best friend. She could talk to me about anything.

I made my way outside and into the alleyway.

While contemplating whether I should climb the fire escape, Quinn grabbed my hand from behind me and pulled me around.

"San, will you just give me a minute to explain all of this shit?" she shouted, clearly feeling angry herself.

"All of this shit? Is that what I am, Quinnie?" I put emphasis on her nickname. "Is what we did just shit?"

"No. That's not what I meant. I was talking about me being a complete idiot."

"Yeah, well, you've got that part right. Going to fucking Kurt of all people." I wasn't even thinking about what I was saying. It was just all coming out. I don't even know why I felt so hurt. Maybe it's because I wanted her to kiss me, again, but it was seeming more unlikely by each passing second.

"You know what, fuck you. Fuck you for never realizing anything," she yelled. "I went to Kurt because he's the only one who's ever known." She shoved something like a piece of paper in my pocket and turned around, walking away.

"Known what? I know everything about you, Quinn." I reached in my pocket to pull out whatever she'd put in there. "We've been best friends since freshman year. What could he possibly know that I don't?"

"God, are you that fucking oblivious? Fuck, maybe you are. You never saw me before. I don't know why I thought that had suddenly changed," she screamed back at me. "Just read the fucking paper."

I unfolded the piece of paper.

In the tiniest letters I had ever seen on a piece of paper that looked like it had been held far too many times was something I didn't expect at all.

"I loved you first

I know it's true

Because the world never stopped spinning before

When anyone else looked at you

Like the first time I could."

I was dumbfounded. Love? Quinn loved me?

All of the memories came back to me. Our sleepovers and how she would cuddle closer into me. Any time she knew I was going to stay up all night to watch the stars, she'd always offer to come along and bring coffee and blankets. Any time she saw I was upset, she was the first person to comfort me. Fuck, that night she found me on the roof after cheer practice, she just held me for over an hour. She was always there. I just didn't really see how much. She was the only person who could fully climb my walls and see who I was, who wanted to see who I was. How could I not have seen her before, really seen her?

"Quinn," I tried to speak, choking on my own air. She made no indication that she was going to turn back around.

"Quinn, fuck. Quinn, come back, please," I chased after her.

"I'm a bitch and an idiot. I didn't see. I'm so sorry. If I had known to look, I would have had you in my arms a lot sooner than this," I whispered when I caught up to her and pulled her to face me, wrapping my arms around her waist.

A few tears fell from her eyes.

"San, you don't even know what you do to me," she said so quietly that I had to lean in even closer to hear. Can't say I wasn't happy to be closer.

"QB, you don't even know what you do to me," I smirked. "You drive me crazy. You make me want to scream. You do make me scream. You frustrate me to no end sometimes. You make me feel insane because all I want to do is be close to you. I don't think you could even know what kissing you does to me. You only kissed me once, and it's all I've been thinking about. Standing here with you right now, all I want to do is kiss you and never stop."

"For fucks sake, San, you can drop the nickname. Just call me baby, already," she giggled and pulled me in for a kiss.