I seriously have no idea how I am getting these chapters out so quickly with all of life's obligations. Inspiration is powerful like that, I suppose. Thanks for the comments this far.
For all of the emotion that bubbled within her, Quinn was actually thinking rather practically.
What could she do about the fact that Sam Evans had been slipping her mother some dick?
As much as she wanted to - needed to - Quinn knew that she couldn't take the violent route. Sam was bigger and stronger, and the cheerleader didn't too much like the idea of jail - because she would get at least one good detrimental blow in on the boy!
But no. She had decided that she was going to stick to what she was good at. She was going to get something out of this situation. Something for herself...
So when Sam edged around the dark street corner, with his hands in his coat pockets – his face telling the story of absolute dread – Quinn was calm.
Eerily calm.
Sam had never been so intimidated by a creature that had boobs. But Quinn? She had this unparalleled knack for making him second-guess every one of his words. Every action.
Even before tonight, he had always felt the uncertainty that came with sharing the same space as Quinn Fabray. She was quick with her tongue; quick to make one feel infinitesimally small with a mere look, and she seemed to be impossible to get close to, which was why he'd been so stunned when he'd discovered that the one and only Rachel Berry had managed to break through and make a warm home for herself within Quinn's icy heart.
Unlike the cold and calculated Head Cheerleader, Judy was a lot easier to penetrate - no pun intended. This thing between them; it had all started out with flirtatious glances, and then an awkward – on his part only – exchange of numbers, which was proposed by Judy, under the paper-thin guise that she always made it a point to get the numbers that belonged to those who hung out with her daughter.
For emergency contact purposes only, of course.
The seemingly troubled older woman had then begun to randomly text him about what she was wearing, and more specifically... about what she wasn't.
Well after that, Sam had quickly found that he was weak – that he was interested in Quinn Fabray's mother, when he should not have been.
They would text and meet up in clandestine spots, where Judy would complain about work, Russell, Quinn – just life in general – before sparking up a blunt, and asking him to tell her that she was beautiful, and that she looked as young as his female peers.
Yes, Sam had been creeped out and a little intimidated at first, but he'd quickly begun to realize that the well gossiped about Judy Fabray was harmless, and that she was just worn out and broken. What's more, he had begun to realize that he wanted to be the one to fix her.
After a while he'd seen the healing within her smiles. It was like he had breathed just that little bit more life into her with each gentle kiss; even kisses as simple as a peck to the cheek.
Feelings were involved.
His feelings...
He raked unsteady fingers back through his lengthy blonde hair, and took his final steps towards Quinn, who was just staring at him like a book with blank pages.
"Do you sit around with the boys, laughing about what an easy lay she is?" were the first words to leave the shadowy form. "If my dad finds out, literally you'll be looking over your shoulder for as long as he's alive."
Sam's forehead pinched into a grimace. "Of course not. None of the boys know. I..." He swallowed, and Quinn glared at the way that his Adam's apple slowly dipped and bobbed. "I love her," he quietly confessed, his hands squirming in his coat pockets.
Quinn scoffed and looked off into the night. "Love," she echoed disdainfully. "You're like twelve-years-old, jackass! What did you think was going to happen? What, that you'd be my new step-dad? I'm older than you!" she hissed. "Don't drop the l word. You really don't want to insult me any more than you already have. I can promise you that."
"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, just wanting to get whatever it was that Quinn had planned over and done with.
"No, I'm the one who's asking the questions here. So how long have you been subjecting her to that toad dick of yours?"
He shrugged pathetically. "I'm sorry. Really. I know that this must be, like, really screwing with your head. But I didn't mean for this to happen. She's unhappy, Quinn. She -"
"What, and you thought that the answer was your -"
"No. But it just happened!" he stressed, imploring the blonde to at least try to understand.
But Quinn's eyes merely narrowed. "How do you know that she's unhappy?" She squinted. "What's she been telling you?"
The cheerleader braced herself for the boy's answer. Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't have felt more exposed or vulnerable in that moment.
"She just – I don't know – talks about your dad, and she's sad about how you treat her."
That was all the information that Quinn needed to know. Judy had been telling Sam personal things about the hostile dynamics that dominated the Fabray household.
Great!
Quinn willed away the heat in her cheeks. She was mortified, because someone else now knew what a complete and utter fucking mess her life truly was. There was no hiding from the green-eyed boy that stood in front of her. He now had the eyes to see her for what she had come from, and that was difficult to take.
Achoo!
She clicked her tongue, wiped her nose across her forearm, and sniffed. "Here's what's going to happen from now on, salamander lips," she snarled, "I'm going to tell you what I want, and you're going to follow through, no questions asked. If you so much as raise an eyebrow at any of my demands, I'm going to tell my father that he needs to hunt you down and maul you for sleeping with his wife. Is that clear?"
Sam blued as he pondered the prospect of Russell Fabray mauling him. He winced for every blow that his mind's theater threw his way. "Ok," he murmured, gazing down at the concrete. "What are the demands?"
"You stay away from her!" Quinn immediately spat, balling her pale hands at her sides.
Sam opened his mouth to protest, but knowing better he swiftly brought his lips back together and nodded, dejected. "Is that it?"
"You have a friend on Facebook – Noelle Hutchington-Chang," Quinn highlighted. "How do you know her?"
Sam frowned. What did Quinn want with Noelle? He was desperate to know, but as he understood; to ask would have resulted in death by Russell Fabray. "I uhh..." He paused, blowing breath out of his expanded cheeks and frowning, as if to summon focus.
Quinn snapped her fingers four swift times, each click ringing more loud and impatient than the last. "Get there faster, Justin Bieber!"
"I-I met her a few years ago. You know Mike Chang, who goes to Bellmont High? W-Well, Noelle's Mike's cousin," Sam nervously recalled, watching the cheerleader for any inclination as to what she might be thinking.
But to no avail.
"Does she have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend?" Quinn probed, cutting to the chase.
"As far as I know, Noelle's single. She talks about boys, but she also posts a lot of photos of beautiful and influential woman, like Dianna Agron and Lea Michelle. She's really smart, open-minded, and always talks about political issues. But I don't know – I just can't imagine her with a girlfriend. But then I would have said the same thing about… you and Rachel." He shrugged, grimacing in anticipation of whether or not his answer had been good enough…
Earlier Quinn had accepted Rachel's friend request on Facebook. She'd then searched the brunette's friend list, only to discover that not only was this Noelle friends with Rachel, but that she was also friends with Sam and a few other people that she knew too.
Ever the opportunist, Quinn had seen that as her in.
"Well she's a pretty girl, Sam," she pointed out, folding her arms as a cruel smirk matched the silver steel in her hazel eye. "You're already friends with her on Facebook, so she must not think that you're a complete ball-sack," she mused aloud, although seemingly to herself. "I want you to start to talk to her more than you already do. Throw her compliments, flirt with her, take her to the movies – whatever! Tell her that you like the color of her freaking violin if you have to! Just take up her time!"
And keep her the hell away from Rachel, Quinn neglected to voice aloud. She watched the boy subtly shake his head, and glared the perceived act of defiance down.
"Quinn!" Sam whined. "She's smart! She isn't gonna go for me, and it'll look weird; why would I just suddenly start flirting with her?" he asked, still grimacing in anticipation of the cheerleader's response.
He was right to grimace, and he found out why the moment that Quinn began to pat her pockets down.
"Yeah, let me just call my dad and tell him how you've been sleeping with his wife in the house that he pays for."
Sam's eyes blew wide, and his hands tugged out of his warm pockets. "No! Please – I'll do it! I'll do what you want me to do!" His eyes plead with so much more depth than his words ever could.
Nevertheless…
Quinn's pale frost-bitten hands stilled against her body. She glared at the boy. "I want a text from you every two days, with a thorough update on the situation. Got it?"
The sudden breeze that swelled up ransacked the dejected boy's long hair, pinning it to his face. He didn't even bother to tame it. He just nodded and gazed down at the pavement…
From Quinn: What are you doing today?
Rachel was sitting up in bed, blindly patting her kinked bed hair down as she pondered the text message. She glanced at the wall clock, taking note of the light that bled in through the blinds to kiss every surface of her room majestically. "What a beautiful morning," she mused with a wide yet still sleepy smile.
The weight of her cell phone, as it rested within her palm, brought her mind back to Quinn's text message.
What was she doing today? Well it was Saturday morning, which meant that she had absolutely nothing to do, except go through her vocal exercises. After last night's events, Rachel hadn't expected to hear from the blonde so soon. In fact, she had even pondered the possibility that their dating ruse had met its expiry date.
But it seemed that Quinn just could not get enough.
With that thought, Rachel grinned and began to tap away at her phone's screen…
At the Fabray home, Quinn was already dressed and ready to go. It was only seven-thirty AM, but her morning so far had been filled with nothing but tension; she just wanted to be somewhere else.
Judy hadn't uttered a word to her as she'd pattered down the stairs and crossed the lounge. The older woman was now in the kitchen downing shots of vodka, and had been for the last thirty minutes or so.
Russell was upstairs asleep, his snores working through the house's brickwork like deep gruff didgeridoo notes.
Quinn, who was slumped miserably on the sofa, just wanted to get out.
So when her phone buzzed, she almost dropped it in her haste to open up the message.
From Rachel: I'm hot-wiring three cars from the Treetops Boulevard estate. I've had my eye on them for a while now. That should take about two hours – you know, allowing for stealth and all of that. But I may be able to squeeze you in if you have something important in mind.
Not wanting to have to wait around on the back-and-forthness that came with texting, Quinn just dialed the aspiring Broadway star's number…
"Morning Quinn," Rachel gently chirped into her ear soon after.
"The school dance is next week. We need to go shopping for dresses," the blonde said, getting straight to the point.
"You sound flued up to your eyeballs. How are you going to manage shopping, which I know can be a rather rigorous activity from experience? Why aren't you in bed resting?"
Quinn sighed gruffly. "Because I have shit to do! I can rest when I'm dead – and I'm waiting for my flu medicine to kick in. Now are you coming shopping or not?"
"Not if you're going to suck the merriment out of me, no. I woke up in a very good mood this morning, and I would prefer to stay that way."
Sighing much more softly this time, Quinn closed her eyes and attempted to breathe her frustration away. "What do you want? W-What, you want me to beg?" she asked, her eyes snapping open. "Just come and get me out of this fucking house, Rachel!"
Her words echoed in her own mind. They'd sounded so desperate and dependent. Dependent on Rachel Berry. Quinn grew aware of the fact that she couldn't have written a more ironic story if she had tried. But the truth was that in the short period of time that they had spent together, Rachel had bizarrely been someone that she could lean on when it came to extreme matters. Then there was last night, when Rachel had offered to pick her up something for her flu. The brunette didn't have to do that, and the truth was that she shouldn't have wanted to.
But she had offered anyway.
"What's wrong?" Rachel decided to ask after a while.
Quinn scoffed, because what was right with her life at the moment?
"What's wrong is that you're being difficult. Why do you always have to be so difficult?" she snapped. "It's simple; I want to get out of this house, and we need to buy dresses for the dance. The two of us going shopping is logical, practical, and effective. So what's your problem?"
"My problem is that I awoke this morning feeling rather good, and I don't want to be in the presence of someone who is in such a toxic mood!" Rachel instantly shot back.
"Ok then; fine!" Quinn pushed out through her teeth. "I'll have a smile on my face and a sunny disposition by the time I see you. But you will have blackmailed me into putting it there. Know that and feel awful about it!"
"Ok, well that works for me," Rachel chirped. "Give me an hour to get ready, and -"
Quinn glanced towards the kitchen door, which was mostly made up of transparent rectangular glass panes. She watched her mother toss another shot at the back of her throat. "No! Make it thirty minutes tops! I'm not waiting an hour," she quickly told the brunette on the end of the line.
Rachel received the message loud and clear; Quinn either didn't want to be alone with her own thoughts, for whatever reason, or she didn't want to be around her parents. Sensing this, Rachel replied: "Well I'm not going to skip showering or breakfast. So it looks like the hours that I spend perfecting my hair are going to have to take the hit. I'll be there in twenty-five minutes at the most."
Quinn felt her body relax. She could feel that the conversation was coming to an end. But she wanted to thank the brunette before either of them hung up. She wanted to thank the diva, and then let her know that there was no way that she spent more than ten minutes on her hair each morning. Any longer was redundant and a waste, clearly.
Still, she settled on a quiet, "thank you."
"Careful, Quinn. One might think that we were actually becoming friends."
"Why are we still talking?"
"Because I haven't hung up on you yet," Rachel dryly retorted, without pause for breath.
"You know, if you weren't so... you, you'd actually make an acceptable head bitch in charge. Not a better one than me, of course. But… you're quick with your tongue."
Simply because she was an idiot, Rachel giggled. Not so much was she giggling at Quinn's inadvertent sexual innuendo; she was giggling at the blonde's obliviousness to it. "Eighty-percent of the time you can't keep up with me, Quinn. I'd make a much better HBIC than you. That wasn't even in question." She sniffed, no-nonsense with her tone. "But I wouldn't want such a title in the first place. It's not my style. I'm me, and I'm glad for that."
Quinn was sort of glad for that too, though she would take a steak to the heart before she ever admitted it out loud. "You're eating into your twenty-five minutes," she pressured the other girl.
"Calm those tits, head bitch in charge. I'll be there. When I get out of the shower, I'm expecting to find that you have texted me your address."
"That's fine. Just, please, hurry."
"I'll be as swift as fate allows. Bye."
"Bye."
Quinn ended the call and stood up. She glanced around for Judy's purse, but her eyes didn't detect even a sniff of it.
"Hey!" she growled, yanking open the kitchen door to see her mother more or less passed out and drooling as she leaned on the work surface.
The sight just fanned the flames that already raged within the blonde.
Right there and then she accepted that things between her and her mother were never going to improve. This was it. This was their relationship, or lack thereof...
Quinn blinked, and her eyes cleared of their clouds, becoming a sharp metallic green. "Where's your credit card?" she snapped impatiently.
Judy let loose a long half-conscious sigh that sounded like it may have been a burp, but other than that...
Over by the microwave sat the older woman's purse. Its shiny metallic studs called Quinn's gaze towards it.
The least that Judy could do was pay for her dress and shopping spree. It wasn't like she was good for anything else, was it?
As Quinn sat down in Rachel's car and shut the door, some twenty-five minutes later, she took a small bottle of Pineapple Schnapps out of her purse; unscrewing the cap and taking it to her glossy pink lips.
From the driver's seat, Rachel eyed her. She took note of the dark sunglasses that hid the blonde's eyes, and ignored the notion that Quinn still looked like an untouchable gorgeous Milan model, despite having the flu.
"So that's why you wanted me to drive," Rachel gleaned in response to observing the bottle of alcohol. "Don't you think that it's a little early for liquor? Not to mention that your immune system needs not to be poisoned any further."
Quinn lowered the bottle, screwed its cap back on, and wiped away the remnants of alcohol that ringed her lips. "If you want me to have the sunny disposition that I promised, then a wasted Quinn Fabray, who's also on flu medicine, is your friend. Besides," she said, putting on a syrupy smile that was so merry that it dripped sarcasm, "today's a special day. Today is the end of my struggling relationship with my mother. The end of any relationship with my mother. I'm mourning, and I'm paying homage." She lifted the bottle in the air, tilting it as if to cheers an imaginary someone. "So get off of my dick and drive."
Rachel had never had a mother. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to actually have a mother, and not get along with her. Somehow that caused her to be even more empathetic.
"Quinn, what happened last night?"
"Nothing that you need to worry about," the blonde replied, looking to shut the brunette down with her cavalier voice and expression.
If she didn't give her anything to work with, she'd shut up right?
Maybe she was missing the fact that it was Rachel Berry that she was talking to…
The brunette clasped her hands in her lap, willing herself to be patient with the other girl. "Firstly, you shouldn't be drinking and taking medicine simultaneously. Secondly, I think you'll find that what happened last night is something that I need to worry about, because I'm the person that you called upon to come and get you out of that house this morning."
Quinn faltered at first, her tongue fluttering undecidedly within her mouth – then she decided to force a scoff. "Don't flatter yourself. Santana and Britt were otherwise engaged. You were the last resort."
Rachel started up the engine and smirked, because the cheerleader was free to keep telling herself that if it helped her to sleep better at night.
"When we're done shopping, I'm not coming back here either. So you better think of something – kick your parents out, or whatever," Quinn suddenly protested as they rolled off down the street. She adjusted her shades about her nose and peered out of her window, already beginning to feel the slight perceptual effects of the alcohol that she had just downed.
"My parents are out golfing this morning, and they won't be home until two. If you come back to my house, it'll be a good opportunity for us to talk about whatever it is that happened last night," Rachel replied, jerking the gearshift.
"Pftt. That's what you think. It'll be a good opportunity for me to drink the rest of this alcohol, and zone out on your bed for a couple of hours, which with how anal you are – I know that I don't have to worry about the covers not being clean."
"What a lovely little backhanded compliment, Quinn. But you aren't getting anywhere near my bed, just because -"
"Because," Quinn interrupted, "you wouldn't know how to control yourself. I've seen the way that you stare at me, when you think I'm not looking. You've probably imagined me in my panties, or less, in that bed so really…" She smiled much too sweetly, nodding once for sardonic effect. "I get it."
Clearly Quinn was teasing her. But Rachel wasn't going to have any of it, because this was what they did; they sparred with their tongues for harmless – at least in her case – one-upmanship. "Have you learned nothing about me this far? Why would I simply imagine you bare-bottom naked? I apologize for my crudeness – not really though, because you should be used to it by now – but seeing you naked in my mind's eye isn't nearly enough. I have defiled your body in every way that you can possibly imagine; whips, chains, beads, clamps, cages, handcuffs, objects that buzz, scissors -"
Quinn blinked, her smile panning flat. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just say scissors, so that I don't have to report you to the police."
"Tell them. They are the ones who provide me with my equipment, believe it or not. My dad has friends on the force. Allow that to sink in, Quinn."
…
At the sweet sound of silence, Rachel repeatedly punched victorious fists into the air, relishing in just how unamused Quinn seemed to be as they eased into the next street…
Fran Merylclough walked into Boop 101.
Far from the forty-two-year-old woman's style were the slick vintage dresses, glitzy ballet flats, and skinny jeggings that clung to the chiseled mannequins. But her niece's birthday happened to be tomorrow, and all that the girl ever talked about were the dresses and shoes that Boop 101 stocked. She would gush about how she just had to have this, and about how she just had to have that.
Anything to shut the spoiled teenager up, right?
Fran wondered the store's laminate floors, pinching at garments to get a better look at them, before shaking her head in disapproval and letting them go.
After a while she spotted a lovely thigh-length cream dress, with golden polka dots on it. A majestically thin gold chain linked around its neck, seemingly attached to the garment.
Well, Fran was taken with it. Never mind her niece. The dress didn't exactly fit within the boundaries of Fran's style; her aged thighs had seen to that, but still…
The woman's ocean blue eyes lifted towards the clerk behind the checkout counter, and then squared out to the two girls, who were holding hands, over by the jewellery section.
Immediately horrified, she released the hem of the dress and adjusted her glasses about her face, squinting to see if her eyes were telling her the truth or not.
Surely that wasn't Judy's daughter, Quinn.
Yes, two girls could hold hands and it could mean nothing more than a platonic close bond. But as Fran noted the manner with which Quinn was stood there dragging her slightly drooped eyes up and down the other girl, who was busying herself with browsing the accessories, what other conclusion was she supposed to draw, other than…
A woman of class – someone like Judy? She would be mortified!
Ever the nosy one; Fran marched quick feet towards the two girls.
Sensing the quickly approaching presence, both Rachel and Quinn glanced over, and regarded the astutely dressed woman as if to ask her what she wanted.
Well, Quinn was more so regarding her as if to ask what her problem was. She flicked her sunglasses back down, the dark lenses cloaking her confrontational hazel eyes. But her mouth had twitched up to the side with sheer attitude.
"Can I help you?" she asked, snappish.
Fran lifted her chin, ready to take on the sin that was homosexuality. "I work with your mother. I've seen photos of you on her desk, and she talks very highly of you," she tightly explained, glancing down scornfully at the hands that were clasped between the two girls. "I don't think that she'd be best pleased if I told her about your… less than chaste relationship with this young lady here. She would be mortified, and here you are swanning about in public and flaunting your immorality!" she quietly hissed, careful not to alert any of the other people in the store.
Although the bigotry that oozed from the older woman flared anger within Rachel's chest and narrowed her brown eyes, she told herself that she wouldn't blow up, because this was Quinn's situation to handle in whichever way that she saw fit, especially after Judy had seen them kissing in that video clip.
So the brunette looked to the cheerleader, letting it be known that she was ready to take any and all cues from her.
Still, she didn't see it coming...
Quinn's free hand suddenly slid around the back of her neck, and urged her in for a kiss that turned out to be over-the-top and crude once their lips actually began to fuse.
Taken aback, Rachel reflexively tried to pull back a little, but the blonde's soft, insistent, strawberry-flavored mouth chased after the heat of her own; pulling, capturing gasps, and oh so dominant. To add to the fervour of it all, Quinn tugged the hand that was still clutching the brunette's, and as planned the diva's front collided into her own with a gentle but sensual thud.
Although she was still somewhat startled, Rachel determined that she was just going to have to go along with the animalistic rhythm of Quinn's mouth, before said mouth swallowed her whole...
When they slowly came apart, Rachel played her eyes for dazed love hearts; shining them up at her supposed lover. "Baby, I didn't know that you felt so passionately about me," she cooed through a delighted grin, knowing that this was the only opportunity that she would get to stick it to the homophobic woman.
"Don't be silly, sweetie," Quinn chirped, angling her neck so that she could look her mother's uptight co-worker straight in the eye as she purred, "I'm passionate enough about you to bend you over those church pews," she stressed, "and give it to you in the way that the good Lord loves to see."
Even Rachel was floored by what her ears had just heard, but nobody would have known it. Not with the overly sexual smirk that she had instructed her face to perform as she, too, regarded the older lady and winked.
"You two are despicable!"
Before the two girls could subject Fran Merylclough's eyeballs to anymore debauchery, she twirled on her heels and hot-footed it straight out of the store, her face shriveling with untold ire.
Her niece, Kelly, would just have to make do with something from Forever 21…
"Quinn!" Rachel immediately scolded, stepping out of the cheerleader's space. "I don't wish to take anything away from that performance because that last little barb was absolute gold! But my father's and I have seen enough of your mother to last us a lifetime. I'm not sure what you told her to get her to leave my home last night, but abusing my lips like that in front of her co-worker will surely undo your work."
What was visible of Quinn's face didn't twitch in the slightest. She rectified the space between them with a small step towards the frenzied shorter girl. "The only thing that I'm sorry for is potentially infecting you with the flu, because – as you know – we have to spend time together, and I don't want you to give it back to me once I'm over it."
Having said that, she nonchalantly spun around and continued to browse the articles of jewellery.
Behind her, Rachel folded her arms and glared holes into the back of Quinn's head. She defiantly ignored the sweet strawberry lip gloss that she could taste on her own lips.
She wanted answers.
Why would Quinn opt to kiss her in front of one of Judy's co-workers? And in such a boastful and defiant way too. It just – it failed to make any sense at all, and especially after last night's events.
"What aren't you telling me, Quinn?" she suspiciously asked, walking around the blonde and standing right in front of her. "Why do you not seem to care about your mother hearing about that kiss? And she will be hearing about it, because that woman was – for lack of a better term – a fully-fledged bitch."
Quinn shrugged a shoulder, adjusted her sunglasses, and stared off over the brunette's head. "A little power-play went down last night. I won. I can do whatever the hell I want, as long as my dad doesn't find out, which he won't if Judy does her job right. That's all you need to know."
"You need to stop treating me like the oblivious housewife, Quinn. When our circumstances change, I need to know. You neglected to tell me that your mother had received that video too, leaving me completely ill-equipped for her sudden appearance at my house!"
Quinn ran her hand back through the – for once – loose blonde waves that framed her face, tussling it. "Keep your voice down. I have everything under control," she growled, walking around the brunette to get to the beautiful collection of dresses that hung towards the front of the store. "Quit nagging me, get over here, and come look for a dress already!"
Rachel didn't know what was going on with the cryptic blonde today, but she knew that she was going to get the truth before the sun went down. That much was certain…
A little while later she caught sight of a strapless dress that simply blew her mind. She was almost certain that she had stopped breathing. Sure the garment was a tad revealing, with its scandalously short hem, form-hugging fabric, and arcs that would most likely make one's bust appear full and supple. But its elegant black somehow managed to counter that.
"Wow. This is an extraordinarily appealing dress," she mused, feeling around the soft fabric for the price tag.
Her eyes grew like balloons as they took in the actual fee. "The prices in this store are downright appalling!" she loudly complained, glancing over towards a nearby assistant in the hopes that she would hear her and do something about the problem.
Quinn, who had already found her dress and some earrings to go along with it, rolled her eyes. She was really starting to understand that Rachel most definitely had an aggressive and confrontational side to her. The blonde didn't think that she would ever get those traits to sit with those awful Argyle sweater vests and Penny Loafers…
But aside from that, the prices were not that steep, especially when you were carting around your mother's gold card.
"Way to break the cheap Jew stereotype," Quinn jibed with another roll of the eyes. She checked the size of the dress, snatched it from the rack, and sauntered over to the checkout counter, where she almost snobbishly told the clerk to ring them up.
Once Rachel realized what was happening, she sort of froze.
Thankfully, her feet remembered how to work after a few seconds. She quickly took them after the cheerleader. "Quinn, I can't say that I'm not thoroughly warmed by this largely generous yet unexpected gesture, but I don't want you spending such an obscene amount of money -"
"Shut up, before I find something else to buy you."
The clerk, who was ringing each item up, watched the pretty blonde girl repeatedly hush the brunette. He couldn't help but grin fondly; how many times had he now seen the story of the generous spender and the reluctant yet swooning recipient?