I decided to take photography for one very simple reason: When it comes time for me to have real head shots taken, I'll know exactly what I'm looking for.

Okay, I also really like to take pictures, but the other reason is way more important.

Now I enjoy photography because there is no one that I really know in this class. Two to three days a week I am surrounded by people that don't know every intimate detail of my life. I'm not saying they haven't heard rumors because this is a small school, but none of these people feel the need to be careful about what they say around me. They just talk to me.

This class has been my oasis for the last two and half weeks.

And yes, just what you were thinking, Santana still hasn't spoken to me. Everyday I find myself getting closer to that 'someday.'

I looked up the Five Stages of Grief. I always forget what order they're supposed to go in. It's denial, anger, bargaining, depression then acceptance. I think I'm experiencing these out of order. Or all at once. Well, maybe not all of them because acceptance still seems like it's just out of my reach. I think it's because there's still a giant question mark hanging over this entire situation.

Anyways, back to my private island:

"Alright, artists," that's Ms. Printz… I know, the perfect name for a photography teacher, "before you all go off into your weekend worlds, I've got an assignment to give you all. Yeah, yeah, yeah! I know! Grumble, grumble, grumble."

The class laughs instead of complains. I don't think anyone was going to complain anyways.

"For this one, I've assigned you all partners because it's a little tough. It's called the Alphabet Challenge!" We "ooo" and "aaah" at the name because somehow, as a class, we've come up with this inside joke. After Ms. Printz laughs a little she explains, "What you'll do for this one is find the alphabet in nature. I don't necessarily mean in the trees and bushes, but in everyday life."

Well, this sounds like a fun and wonderfully distracting project. Ms. Printz hands some photos to the kids in the front to pass around to everyone. As they get passed back she starts announcing the pairings. One of them gets to me as she starts so I miss the first couple. I know that this is an X, but I can't seem to figure out what it actually is…

"Rachel aaaand…" I hear my name so my attention perks up, "Bailey."

Bailey? Who's… oh. The new girl. The one I spared from a Glee Club recruitment speech.

I look to the other side of the class and catch her eye. She smiles and waves at me forcing me to return the gestures. I guess it was contagious.

After Ms. Printz finishes reading off the pairings, everyone switches seats to meet with their partners. Bailey gets up out of her seat and walks over to my table. The simplicity of her jeans and fitted t-shirt combo is refreshing and she's really quite cute.

Wait, what?

"Hi," she takes the seat my usual table-mate sits in, "Bailey Westbrook, junior." She laughs a little at her own introduction, causing me to chuckle a little.

"Rachel Berry, senior," I introduce myself the same, including the laugh, and hold out my hand. "You're new at McKinley, right?" I ask a fairly dumb question because I'm sure she sees how small this school is and how obvious a new person is.

"Yes and I'm having a really hard time getting used to such a small school," she sighs a little and tucks a piece of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear.

"You'll be fine, just try not to listen to people," I give her the best advice I can, even if I have a hard time following it myself.

I feel her shoulder nudge mine and hear her ask, "Are you free tomorrow?"

"Huh?"

When I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding, I see that she's produced her phone from her pocket and that's why her shoulder brushed against mine.

"For the project?" she laughs again and I smile again. Something about her smile and her laugh are alarmingly contagious.

"Right," I shake my head at myself, "Yes, totally… well, not totally…" it's a therapy day, "I'm free from noon on."

"That's perfect! We could meet at the park at like, twelve-thirty? I don't know what's there, but maybe we'll find some stuff and I haven't been there yet, so it'll be an adventure," she shrugs with both of her shoulders and lets an adorable half smile play across her lips.

Uhhh… was the word adorable in that sentence?

Maybe this isn't a good idea…

… or maybe it is.

"The park at twelve-thirty," I repeat feeling my heart beat just a tad faster than it should and for a reason unbeknownst to me… at least I don't think I know…

"Awesome," she nods, "We should probably exchange numbers, too. You know, for emergencies."

"Oh yeah, dire photography emergencies," I laugh effortlessly.

"Hey, it's the alphabet in every day life, you never know!"

She's right, I don't know.

~:~:~

"How are your dads?" my therapist, Harvey, asks. I think he's about twenty-nine/thirty. He's actually my second therapist. My first, Marsha, took a job in Illinois because her husband was promoted to a position located there. It was quite tumultuous news to stomach after having worked with her for two years and it worried me knowing that I was going to have to start over with someone new. Marsha recommended that I see Harvey; she thought I would feel comfortable with him and that we'd hit it off immediately. Of course I was skeptical and I was already starting to feel like all the work that Marsha and I had done was a waste. I almost didn't go to my first appointment, but she was right. We did hit it off right away. He's younger than Marsha and he actually specializes in 'teens and twenty-somethings.' I like talking to him because he never makes me feel like I have to say something about my deepest, darkest feelings. I think there have been just as many days when we just talked about nearly nothing as there have been days that we talked about things that were bothering me. If he'll let me, I think I'm still going to see him when I move to New York - through Skype of course.

"The usual," I give a half smile and shrug.

"And how were the first couple weeks of school?" he asks, then presses the top of his pen to his cheek. He generally keeps his facial expressions neutral, but when you spend enough time with someone, you can figure out certain tells. Like this one, he's looking for a certain thing. I know he isn't going to push it, but I also know what he's actually asking.

"Uneventful," I answer sadly and look down at the floor.

"And why was that?"

Okay, so I thought he wasn't going to push it.

"She still isn't talking to me," I spill it because what good is it to not talk about it. I think of all the people that I know, he's the best one to talk about this with. He doesn't know Santana. He only knows me and everything I've ever said about her.

"But you've seen her since we last spoke?" I'm sure he already knows the answer to this.

"Yes. She ran out of waived absences. She's in my first and last class of the day. I can hear her talking to people and I can see her and I know she sees and hears me, but nothing. We've made eye contact a few times and every time we do, it looks like she's about to cry," I exhale heavily and look back down at the floor between at us, "at this point, being in love with her hurts."

"Love shouldn't hurt, Rachel," Harvey says but I can't see him because I'm still looking at the floor and my eyes are blurring with tears.

"I know," I choke out and blindly reach for a tissue from the table next to my chair. We sit in the sounds of my sniffling for a moment and I gather myself enough to finally look back up at him, "I feel so selfish."

"What happened to Santana was most certainly traumatizing, but Rachel, what she's been doing to you is causing your own trauma." Harvey lets out a breath then removes his glasses, cleaning them with one of the least neutral expressions I've ever seen on him. He looks as though he's considering something, like there's something he wants to say, but he's weighing out the possibilities of what affect it might have on me. I'll be honest, it worries me a little. When he replaces his glasses the expression is gone and he seems to have made his decision, "Rachel?"

"Yes?" I answer with the worry I'm still experiencing.

"I'm going to say something and I merely want you to consider it. We don't have to talk about it, but we most certainly can if you'd like to…"

"Okay…"

He nods once, takes a breath and says, "The relationship that you and Santana had before her mother passed away, is completely of the past. No matter what happens between the two of you in the future, it will never be the same."

"I know," I answer even though he wasn't asking anything.

"Good, but I have more."

"Oh."

"I don't know Santana and while I have my theories, I don't know what she's feeling or thinking either, but I do know you. I know that you think it's selfish for you to think of yourself after what she's been through, but she's put you through this. I know that it's difficult to let go of something that's meant so much to you and had such a great impact on your life, but I've been watching what this has been doing to you - what you're letting it do to you - and it's crossed the line to where it's destructive."

That just might be some of the most painful truth I've ever been handed. I can't even speak. Actually, I can barely breathe.

Even though it hurts, I feel this sensation of relief somewhere. Like, something telling me that it's okay if things end. "I have to do what's right for me," I say continuing my inner-monologue, outside.

"You do and it isn't selfish for you to put you first. It's healthy," he reaffirms my sentiment.

Acceptance doesn't look so far away.

~:~:~

I feel so emotionally spent by the time get home at 11:45, that all I want to do is take a nap. A half an hour nap but a nap nonetheless. Once I'm in the house I yell out to my dads that I'm home and immediately take to the stairs. I get into my room and spot Santana's pillow on my bed. When I get to the side of my bed, I stare it down for a minute then finally come to the conclusion that it is no longer welcome with me. I snatch it up and chuck it at my closed door, then watch it fall to the floor in a sad lump. After staring at it for a few more seconds, I whip my head away from it and begin undressing myself for my nap. Sleeping in a skirt and sweater simply isn't comfortable. Besides, I have to change for the park anyways.

I'm in my bed for a mere five minutes and my phone dings with a text message. I should just ignore it, but I don't.

From Bailey Westbrook:
Hey Rachel! I was just wondering if you were hungry? I could grab us something before we meet up!

I am not in the mood for Breadstix. I start to text her back to tell her that I'm fine and that I'll just bring something when another message comes in.

From Bailey Westbrook:
There's this place in Cridersville that has a ton of vegan options and makes their own burgers.

What? She's offering something other than the go-to-vegan-friendly-place?

I could really go for a burger! Thank you!

I type it and hit send as fast as my fingers allow.

From Bailey Westbrook:
Haha! Awesome! Mushroom, garden or black bean?

Ohmygod there are options. Who is this girl and where has she been my entire vegan life?

~:~:~

"Oh my god, it's making my nose run but it's so good!" I sniffle loudly then bite into my black bean burger. Halfway through chewing I realize how foul I must look, sniffling and tearing into this thing like I've never had food before.

"Here," Bailey chuckles as she hands me some napkins.

"Thanks," I put down my burger so that I can do something about the worsening situation with my nose. I try my best to blow it discretely. I'm pretty sure I've failed because Bailey's laughing again. It is so infectious and I catch myself holding my gaze on her a little too long.

"I'm really glad you like it," she smiles once more before tearing into her own sandwich.

"What is yours?" I ask, scooting myself up a little to try and see what's between her hands.

She ponders over her sandwich for a second, "Um… I'm not entirely sure."

"How do you not know what you ordered?" I laugh and sniffle again. Damn this spicy but heaven in my mouth burger!

"I chose the 'Take a Chance' option," she shrugs, "I know it's grilled chicken and that's arugula," she points to a leaf that had fallen to the wrapper with her pinky, "their tangy sauce is definitely here and I think there might be fried pickle coins. Oh! And this is definitely munster cheese, but there's something spicy and I can't figure that out."

"So wait, you just ordered this thing blindly?" I ask, keeping my mouth agape for emphasis of my shock.

"Yeah… well, no. I told her things that I like and don't like and BOOM! I got this masterpiece," she gestures with her sandwich and smiles again before taking another giant bite.

"That's pretty fun actually. How did you find this place?" I genuinely want to know because I've lived around here my whole life and I had no idea this place existed.

"Well, my Mom is actually gluten intolerant so when we moved, of course one of the first things we did was seek out places that we could all eat at. People are only recently getting into the gluten-free thing so it's tough to find places, but we found this one a couple weeks after we moved. I guess they like, bought out two spaces and made them one mega space, attaching two kitchens into one. They have separate sections for all of their options. It's really cool. I'll have to take you there sometime," she says it so easily and I find myself excited about the prospect of hanging out with her again, even after only a half an hour of spending time with her today.

"Yeah, I'd like that," I feel myself blush and I'm immediately assaulted by a pang of guilt.

"Hey, are you all set with that?"

"What?" I shake myself out of my head as best I can and hope that it doesn't look like I took myself out of our conversation. The last thing I want is an 'are you okay?'

"I was just going to clean this up if you're all set," that smile is back on her lips and I find my gaze trained on it again.

Tearing my eyes away, I look down at the wrapper that had been doubling as a plate and all that's left is some stray spinach and sharp, reject fries, "Yeah. I'm totally all set, thank you!"

"No problem," she says scooping up my trash and getting up from the picnic table.

The trash is pretty far away and I feel like it's rude to make her walk all the way over there and come back just for us to head back in that direction. "Hey, Bailey!" I call and she stops. I grab both of our cameras and jog over to her.

"You didn't have to do that," she shakes her head as I join her on her walk to the trash.

"You didn't have to buy me lunch," I return.

"I wanted to," her lower lip slips in between her teeth for the briefest of moments and as her cheeks pink, she turns her head forward.

Why does my stomach feel like this? And why is my heart speeding up?

I stop walking as she approaches the trash and somehow, my eyes trail down her back. The words 'that's nice' pop into my head when my eyes land her butt and as soon as I realize what my thoughts were, my eyes pop right back up to the back of Bailey's head.

What am I doing?

What is she doing? Nothing. I don't think. She's just… here.

"Where to first?" she asks when she turns around.

"Uhh…" I'm caught off guard by the question, "There's a playground?"

"Oh wait! Look," she grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face the picnic table we'd just abandoned. I'm completely missing what she wants me to see because all I can think about is how close she is to me, "the um… picnic table…"

I regain my focus after a moment and figure out what she's trying to show me, "It's an A."

"The first one!" she says with excitement and as she takes a step back from me. Then she steps out from behind me, grabs my hand and pulls me back towards the picnic table.

I didn't realize how empty they'd felt. As soon as I felt her hand in mine my heart began to speed up again. It actually doesn't slow down again until well after she's let it go and the photos have been taken. It isn't until somewhere between the picnic table and the playground that it feels normal.

We don't spend that much time at the playground, not because we don't find much, but because there are a lot of kids there. After that, we wander somewhat aimlessly through the park with the hopes of simply finding things. We've both come to the conclusion that sometimes it's easier to find things when you aren't necessarily looking for them. By doing so, we find an E, an F, an I, two Ls and a Y. All the while we keep up an average conversation. I try my best to ask generic, but somewhat personal questions.

I'm not dumb. I'm also quite in touch with myself and most importantly, I'm not dead. I know Bailey is attractive. She has gorgeous, long, dirty blonde hair with natural highlights that practically glow in the sun. Her eyes are blue, but somehow they're both dark and light at the same time. You can tell that she cares about what she looks like, but she doesn't work super hard to impress everyone. I think what's most attractive about her is her confidence. Despite being goofy and sometimes awkward, she's obviously confident in herself, a trait hard to find in sixteen year-old girls. Actually, I take that back, the most attractive thing about her is her smile. Couple it with her laugh and I keep melting. So not only is she attractive, but I'm finding myself attracted to her… at least I think so.

Or maybe I just miss someone else?

Eventually, we meander to the part of the park where there's a pond and Bailey suggests that we take a break.

"We can watch those people over there trying to feed that swan," she points and chuckles, then sits herself down on the grass.

"Clearly they don't see that he wants nothing to do with them," I laugh as I lower myself down to sit next to her, positioning myself at what I deem to be a safe distance. I hope this approximate five inches is enough.

"So, six down and only twenty left to go," she quirks up her eyebrows with enthusiasm, "I think we're doing pretty damn well."

"Where are we going to find the rest of these?" I turn my head to look at her.

"I don't know! That's why we gave each other our numbers. Dire photo emergencies," she reminds me of our conversation from yesterday… the same one in which I told her I was vegan… duh. I've been trying to remember if I told her all day!

"Oh, so it wasn't so that you could sneak a lunch date into today," I think I'm joking.

"Maybe that, too," and there's her lip between her teeth and the pink cheeks and the look away.

My heart is pounding so hard that I can practically hear it. I try to take deep breaths in a sorry attempt to slow it down.

"I'm really glad that Ms. Printz paired us together," I see her turn her head back to me out of my peripheral.

Despite myself, I look back at her. "I am, too," I answer, because I am.

"I had a really great time today," she smiles not knowing what it's been doing to me all day.

"So did I," I answer, because I did.

"And I'm excited to spend more time with you," she says it slower than her last two statements and I swear she's gotten just a little bit closer.

"Me too," I answer, because I am.

I think we've both moved closer because now I have a zoomed in view of her smile and I know that I can't stop looking at it. The way her lips curl up and how her eyes light up. My eyes bounce up from her eyes back down to her lips and before I know it my lips are touching hers.

Her lips moves against mine and I can't even believe how good it feels. It feels good everywhere. I feel her hand on my cheek and her thumb brush up against my nose. My lips part just the slightest bit, enough that she can slide her top lip in between them.

I'm kissing her back.

As soon as that thought registers I yank myself back, "I can't!"

It takes Bailey a moment to recover. I backed away so quickly, she was practically left kissing a phantom.

"W-why not?" she stumbles.

"I have a girlfriend," I answer slowly, but automatically.

Bailey shifts her body slightly and looks me right in the eyes, "Do you?"

She knows about Santana. I don't know how much she knows, but she knows about her at least and she must know that we don't talk to each other. Has this been her plan all day? I don't think I care.

"I... don't…" I feel her fingers land on the back of my hand and the word 'know' just hangs in the space between my brain and my vocal cords. The two words I did say echo through my head and as I look down at our hands, they feel true.

She's not letting go of my eyes and I can't seem to look away from her either.

This could either be the best or the worst thing I could do… or maybe it's both:

Lost in this trance, I hear the words: "You have beautiful eyes," come out of my mouth and then find myself lost in her lips again.

This time, I don't pull away.

A/N: #noregrets