Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters.
A/N: Hey guys, here's the next chapter of the story for you. I've had a hard time writing this chapter, because the story does progress a LOT more than usual here (I can hear everyone chorus 'YESSS, FINALLYYYY!') Thanks to FeelingGrey, Guest, lemon-rind, flyingpinguin1, Baconlover46, Omni-Obiter, NeniioN, SoFlaComet, Bathtoeb, passingby, eynjel04, imaferrari, LoveSKINS94, JPElles, ch3lsk0, Kay, Jess-Sel, Ridderres, gwmclintock9, ctchngfre, Nightlancer600, SergeantPixie, flower32, Athyna DaughterofPosiedon, Cassie Noir, DAgron01, Princesakarlita11, ReelAsh, liamore, loveless90, Guest, gayarm-agron, zettev2, Love-Knows-No-Boundaries-101, Artemis, Guest, Gleelover47, aquarius127, Jan D, Lovelight22, Guest, Shellmarhihello, Cassicio, bootsofspanishleather, meagainstthemusiic, KW Jordan, and ScOuT4It for their lovely reviews.
Hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please review when you're finished, love to hear your thoughts.
Chapter 17: Bitter Against My Tongue
They'd done it. They'd won.
New Directions would survive. Even if it was merely a month or so more, at least they'd bought themselves some time. A little bit more time to build themselves back up, regroup, and arm themselves before digging back into the fray.
And next time they'd have to push themselves even harder. The Spring Awakening Medley had been more complicated than the Journey Medley that lost Regionals next year, but there was still so much more to do.
If they wanted to go anywhere, they'd have to push even harder. Sweat, bleed, and overcome more obstacles than they had this time.
Vocal Adrenaline was waiting for them.
They were so close, yet so far away. They could go against them during Regionals, they could go against them during Nationals.
That much would be left, Rachel knew, would be left in fate's hands.
She prayed that time… more time would be left for them to grow and improve. As they were right now, they wouldn't be able to even scratch Vocal Adrenaline's cloak of invincibility.
They'd gotten lucky this time. When the Show Choir association had drawn for divisions, they'd been mercifully separated into different divisions. New Directions in group A and Vocal Adrenaline in group C.
The scores hadn't been very close in group A, Rachel observed as she grabbed the manila envelope from Mr. Schue's hands as they walked off the stage.
They'd scored a little less than Rachel would have liked in visual presentation (Finn had, apparently, managed to stumble sometime in the set, which set off the balance of Maria and Brittany's choreography), but they'd wiped the floor with everyone else in vocal blending, overall presentation, costuming, and intonation.
Then again, other than the Warblers, there really hadn't been any real competition in their division.
Vocal Adrenaline had been given the greatest obstacles in their division, with several of the best vocal groups in the state to surmount.
Vocal Adrenaline had so thoroughly beaten their competition, there hadn't really even been a point in having a competition in the first place.
After their performance, New Directions had cheered their way from the stage, into the green room, and onto the bus they'd taken to Dalton. The decibel level hadn't fallen as someone in the bus had commandeered someone's speakers and strobe light ('who brings a fucking strobe light to a choir competition?' Maria murmured, cocking an amused brow at the Technicolor lights sprayed across the bus' interior) for a 'bus party.'
Maria and Rachel sat closely huddled together, bent over Maria's iPad, looking to each other nervously as they clicked through the performance in division C, sound canceling headphones heavy against their ears.
They watched Upbeat Jazz Show Choir tap dance and flip their way through a 'Guys and Dolls' tribute, The Old Tones sing a stunning blend of classic rock, and The Note Trotters croon and slide through a Billy Joel medley.
Maria and Rachel were thoroughly impressed by the competition and exchanged approving looks through the smooth flow of music.
"If we'd competed against these clowns," Maria jerked a thumb at the screen, yelling through the cacophony of 'I'm Too Sexy for My Shirt' banging in their ears, smirking amusedly as Mike Chang slid across the aisle of the bus, fist pumping, "we might've actually had a fucking challenge. Instead we got a sad church hymn medley, a boy band top 40's shit fest, and some old people singin' some pretty great Mike and the Mechanics."
Rachel merely chuckled, putting her headphones back on before swallowing, looking to the last link on the page.
Vocal Adrenaline.
She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, before opening them again and clicking on the link.
The group stood in a cluster, lights dimmed, hands clasped before them.
"Ohio… ohio…Ohioooo," sounded through the headphones, clear, smooth, pitch perfect, and haunting accuracy.
'Fuck,' Rachel could see Maria mouth.
The ranks split apart as the music burst into being. The men paired perfectly with their female counterparts, flipping, spinning, and supporting them through each complicated turn.
Their jaws nearly dropped as one of the members soared through the air, spinning into a triple flip, landing unscathed and melding back into unison with the rest of the group.
The song tapered off, blending off into another song, one performer stepping off from the rest of the group, spinning to sit at the lone piano on stage.
Maria's eyes narrowed.
The man with that Shelby Corcoran lady. That was him.
She was sure of it. The man that stood, leaning against the wall watching them perform, eyes focused on Rachel.
The guy with that self-satisfied, douchebag of a smile on his face, and really stupid hair.
This was him.
She shivered as his voice, a low, smoky, rich tenor, left his lips.
God, fucking stupid hair or not, the guy could sing.
Several seconds into the idiot's solo, Rachel reached over to press the off button, plunging the screen into the darkness.
Maria watched as her friend sat back in the uncomfortable, leather seat, pulling the headphones from over her ears as her eyes closed, a puff of air stirring her bangs up.
"What's wrong?" Maria asked, pulling her own set from over her head.
"That's what's wrong," Rachel motioned to the iPad. "We made it through this time, but it was just really luck of the draw. We won because, by God's mercy, we didn't get picked for the same division.
"If we had gone up against the groups Vocal Adrenaline had," Rachel continued, opening her eyes to stare up at the ceiling, "our win wouldn't have been so sure… We could've lost, Maria."
"But that's not the way it turned out," Maria said firmly.
"M-."
"We're not going to worry about the shoulda, coulda, woulda, alright, Rach?" Maria said. "We're going to take this win, we're going to fucking celebrate, we're going to use the time that we've been given, and we're gonna come back better than ever at Regionals, alright?"
Rachel smiled faintly. "Yeah… You're right."
Maria smirked. "Damn right, I'm right. I'm always right. Don't worry about this, we'll fucking win Regionals. Maria Arioso never loses."
"She doesn't, does she?" Rachel drawled questioningly.
"No, I've never lost a fucking thing in my life," Maria crossed her arms smugly.
"What about the Spelling Bee in eighth gra-."
"That doesn't count!" Maria growled.
"You lost to Bobby Rogers," Rachel smirked, before continuing, "I think the word you got wrong was-."
"Smurf."
"—Vichysoisse by just…" Rachel tapped her chin thoughtfully, before continuing, "one letter."
"He was a fucking cheater!" Maria said, throwing her hands up in annoyance. "He shone a mirror in my eyes-."
"I don't remember him having a mir-."
"Shut up, Rachel," Maria scowled. "We have more important crap to discuss."
"Like?" she questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Like the big ass party we're throwing tonight at your house because we kicked ass," Maria smirked.
"A party?" Rachel's eyes widened. "Oh no, hell no. That's not happening, M. Dad is not-."
"Going to be around for the rest of the weekend because he's out of town," Maria smirked.
Rachel's jaw fell open. "What'd you do?"
"I might have asked my Mom to have your Dad conveniently a notice" Maria looked innocently away, "to speak about the legalities of gay marriage down at the Pride convention a few towns over."
"You didn't," Rachel gasped.
"Oh, I did," Maria grinned.
Rachel's jaw worked soundlessly for a several seconds before she glared. "Well, we're still not having a party-."
"Party?" Puck leaned over the aisle. "Did I hear my hot Jewish American Princess say something about a party?"
"Yeah," Maria interjected with a smirk. "Party tonight at the smurf's house 'round 9. Bring your best booze, Puckerman. We need a little stoning."
"Sure thing, hot Italian," Puck said with a wink. "And if you need a little something harder, well-."
"Don't ruin it, meathead," Maria cut in. "You were doing so fucking well before you started acting with your dick. Don't make me lose my respect for you, because then you really don't have a chance of getting laid."
"Maria," Rachel hissed.
"What?" Maria smiled. "Just 'cause you're a blushing virgin doesn't mean I can't have a little fucking fun. I like bulging muscle just as much as I like tits and ass-."
"Ughhh," Rachel groaned. "I don't know why you're my friend…"
"I love you too, Rachel baby," Maria chuckled mischievously, patting her friend's shoulder. "I love you too… but I'll love you even more if we walk to the nearest liquor store after we get off this goddamn bus…"
Rachel hated parties.
She'd never liked them, which was a sort of cruel irony.
In San Diego, Rachel attended her fair share of parties. She was a little more social than she had been in Elementary and the first few years and months she'd had at Belleville Middle.
She supposed it had something to do with the fact that she'd had Maria there to pull her out of her shell. To force her to change herself enough to interact with others.
Days spent formerly recording videos on MySpace were spent at extra dance classes with Maria or hanging out around town, chatting idly with her newfound friends.
Sure, there had been some nights she'd spent alone, but those turned out to be the nights she cherished most.
No one to bother her, no one to wear a mask for.
Just the silence of her room and the slide of steel strings against her fingers as she fretted out songs, writing down lyrics and messing with chord progressions.
She loved those moments when she didn't have to pretend.
But Maria loved to party. Loved to lose herself in the pounding bass of music and dance until she couldn't feel her toes. Loved the sting of alcohol against her tongue and the feeling of letting go of control and losing her inhibitions.
So Rachel went. She went because Maria was there, she went because sometimes her boyfriends would throw the parties, and because she wanted it fit in.
…It was mostly because she wanted to fit in.
Rachel drank. She got drunk. She lost herself. She fit in.
But she didn't like it.
Still, Rachel smiled as she stood in the corner of the Berry (or Johnson now, she supposed) family basement, watching the Gleeks dancing beneath the light of the strobe light someone'd brought from the bus ride, there was something nice about this.
Maria dragged her straight off of the bus, down the street to the local liquor store (she'd bought a wide assortment of whiskey, beer, and other types of alcohol), piled her arms high with junk food and alcohol, and then dragged her straight home.
"You must've been planning this," Rachel had sighed as she set out chips and stacked out the bottles of liquor. "You had your fake ID with you and everything."
"You should always plan for a victory, smurf," Maria smirked as she stacked out red, plastic cups. "Especially if I'm involved in the making of said victory."
"You bragged without cussing," Rachel said dryly, leaning against the counter. "I'm so impressed."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Maria chanted, "fuckity fuckity fuck."
"…You suck," Rachel sighed.
"I love you too," Maria hummed in response, before turning to shove Rachel through the parlor and up the stairs. "Now get your ass upstairs and get changing. Your ass is sexy and I can't see it in Ye Olde Germany wear. You need to look good for your Quinnie girl."
"I don't like-," Rachel began as she was shoved through the door.
"Yeah, sure, right. Go change," Maria interjected, shoving Rachel into her bedroom and shutting the door.
By the time Rachel had come down the stairs, wearing a pair of dark washed jeans, chucks, and a green, flowing top, the steady bump of music had already started from downstairs.
The party had gone well so far. Everyone was still riding the high from their performances, which increased their 'drunk mood' greatly.
There seemed to be no angry drunks (so far). Just a lot of happy, giggling, clumsy, yet somewhat slutty drunks.
The room lacked that stale smelling perfume of spilled alcohol, booze, and sex. The atmosphere was light and fun, rather than dark and full of unspoken sexual tension.
Rachel sipped idly at the concoction Maria shoved into her hand earlier. A fruity red fluid with the slightest sting of vodka as an end note. Her vision was a bit hazy about the edges, and the usual weight of her problems absent from her shoulders.
She'd passed the realm of buzzed long ago and ventured into drunkenness about two drinks ago. It was usually something to worry about, and Rachel never let herself to drink past the slightest buzz.
She'd had an incident her Freshman year at her third party where she'd gotten a little overzealous with her vodka and ended up making out with the captain of the Colorguard team.
…The female captain of the Colorguard team.
Maria hadn't been kidding when she said that Rachel's 'straight line' bent with a little alcohol to grease it.
"What're you doin' standing in the fucking corner all alone?" Maria's voice broke Rachel out of her thoughts as she stumbled over, red-cheeked and smiling.
"Enjoying the ambiance," Rachel muttered, putting her cup to her lips and taking a slow sip.
"If you can still say the word ambiance," Maria smiled, "you aren't having enough booze."
"Shut up,"
"Your girl looks good tonight," Maria ignored the pointed insult, looking over at Quinn.
Rachel raised her eyes to follow Maria's gaze, brown eyes softening as she took in Quinn laughing at something Brittany whispered into her ear.
Loose, blonde locks tumbled down slight shoulders, let free from the usual tightness of her Cheerios ponytail. A black and red print dress hugged Quinn's figure and showed off toned by acrobatic stunts. The low, scooped neck of the dress showed off a little more… cleavage Rachel had ever seen Quinn expose. Quinn's dress was kept, thankfully, modest by the jean jacket over the entire ensemble.
Brittany leaned over, whispering softly into Quinn's ear, pointing gently in Rachel's direction with a soundless giggle the guitarist failed to hear over the blare of the music.
Sparkling hazel eyes met with intense brown, a smile sloping across deep, full red lips, exposing brilliant white teeth. The slightest dusting of rosiness against Quinn's cheeks caught Rachel's attention, making Rachel look quickly away.
A blush.
Quinn was blushing because of her.
Quinn liked her.
It was a revelation that Rachel couldn't quite adjust to. Couldn't quite fathom.
Quinn defied any sort of common logic. When Rachel first arrived at McKinley, Quinn had helped her deal with Karofsky and stood up against the crowd of gossipy onlookers.
She'd listened to Rachel talk about pieces of her past. Offered her advice. Given her a shoulder to lean on, if needed.
But Rachel hadn't given anything back to her. She had nothing to offer to Quinn.
So why would she like her?
"She looks nice," Rachel said flatly, turning her gaze back upon the ground.
"She looks nice?" Maria scoffed. "She looks fucking amazing and you know it. Don't think I didn't see the way she was all up on you after results were announced and don't think I didn't see you enjoying it-."
"Not now, Maria," Rachel murmured, the lightness in her chest dissipating the slightest amount. "Please, not right now."
Maria huffed, studying Rachel for the slightest moment, before reaching over and prying the cup from her hand. "Alright, we'll leave it for now. But come on."
"Come on what…?"
"Your drunk ass can still perform," Maria dragged her over to the stage set up at the head of the room. "I want you to sing us a little something. Give us a break from all this bullshit top 40's music."
"My guitar-."
"Is already here," Maria motioned to the Martin sitting at the heart of the stage, gleaming in the spotlight.
"You touched my guitar?" Rachel hissed, glaring.
"Yes, now get your ass up there and play," Maria said cheerfully, before grabbing a bumbling Finn by the shoulder. "You, get up there. Song I told you earlier, now."
"But I was-."
"I don't give a fuck what you were doing, get your ass up there!"
Rachel sighed before turning to Finn with a raised eyebrow. "She conned you into this too, huh?"
"…threatened."
"…Shoulda guessed," she said, shaking her head, mumbling a bit more to him before counting off the song.
She strummed into the song, sighing at the song choice tiredly, rolling her eyes. Of all the songs…
"It's too bad I don't like you anymore, yes it's too bad, but my novel's gonna need an evil villain," she sang smoothly, fingers smoothly running up the neck of the guitar. "It's too bad we kinda fell apart, we had somethin' going… and I wonder what it ever was that happened.
"We were an experiment to the neighbors, a little bet to see how well and long you'd last, can you blame us?" Her voice climbed. "It's too bad you saw me naked. Too bad? I love you? Don't mean anything… ever again. It's too bad you, think you're so cool… as the raven tells you we're "never more" so what's the score? And who wins?"
She chuckled a bit.
This had been her 'fuck off, chump' song to her boyfriends whenever she'd broken up to them. Maria had found it for her during her first break up and claimed that it was so "fucking satisfying" to sing.
It never failed to cheer her up, give her a bit of a performance high. It was a good song to let go on. A good way to forget the troubles they'd brought her in her life.
Even though she had no boyfriend to flip off, it was still a good song to let go on. The guitar work had her fingers flying and her frustrations: the mystery of the divorce, Quinn's crush… everything went flying out her mouth and into the song.
She finished the song to a flurry of applause as her cup was shoved back into her hand by an ecstatic Maria.
"That was as fucking good as I remember it," Maria said, smiling slightly.
"Glad you approve," Rachel said dryly, taking a good swallow of her drink, savoring the sting of it against her throat.
"It made you feel better, didn't it?"
"…Maybe."
"Good, so then we can get on with your night," Maria clapped her hands together, eyes twinkling mischievously. "And play some clichéd as fuck party games."
"Wha-… why… no."
"Truth or dare," Brittany chorused, jumping up and down. "Truth or dare!"
"We wants to get our truth or dare on!"
"...Fuck me," Rachel sighed.
"First victim?" Maria said, smirking as they sat in a circle in the center of the room, silence harsh against their ears.
"Santana will go first!" Brittany called, clapping her hands. "Santana!"
"Truth or dare, taco shop?" the Italian questioned.
Santana's eyes flashed. "You-."
"Dare!" Brittany chorushed, nodded eagerly. "Dare!"
"I dare you toooo…" Maria's eyes flickered about the room. "I dare you to sing and dance to El Baile del Chiki Chiki…
"That's all you got-"
Maria smirked, holding up her hand, before continuing. "On the front lawn of Rach's next door neighbor with your shirt off."
"Fuck you, you red haired-."
"You're the one who wanted to get your truth or dare on," Maria smirked. "If you don't want to do it, then you can do the punishment."
"Which is?"
Rachel stifled a laugh behind her cup. Santana really shouldn'tve asked.
"You run down the street in your undies," Maria grinned, eyes flashing, "singing Friday."
Santana's jaw fell open. "You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Maria chuckled, crossing her arms behind her head.
"…You are a sadistic little bitch," Santana huffed, narrowing her eyes, before throwing off her shirt and going up the stairs, Maria following after her.
Several minutes later, there was a banging, screaming (Rachel thought it sounded suspiciously like Santana), along with a pounding of feet down the stairs as Santana ran back down, a chortling Maria following after her.
"That crazy ass old woman threw fucking pans at me!" Santana shrieked. "You are such a bitch, Arioso."
"That was absolutely priceless," Maria laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"It's my turn now, you bitch," Santana hissed, throwing her shirt back on. "And I dare you to give Finnocence a lap dance!"
Maria smirked before shrugging. "Didn't give me a chance to choose truth or dare, but fine with me. I'm happy to share my sexiness with the world. Even someone who can last two seconds before coming."
Said dare was completed witha little more enthusiasm than Rachel would've liked to see coming from her best friend (Finn was practically screaming his mailman chant by the end of the song, though Rachel suspected he had probably come at least twice during the whole deal), and the stunned jaw drops of all Glee club members.
"Oh my god," Tina muttered.
"You can never unsee that," Artie said in a slow monotone, wiping at his eyes violently.
"Next!" Maria said cheerfully, taking a chug from her cup.
The next several 'truth or dare' sessions were full of Tina's 'truth' of finding Mike Chang ab-ulous, Sam painting his face bright blue and doing an Avatar imitation, and Puck's sputtering protests when asked to 'make out' with Finn and the sudden depletion of all the Listerine in the house after the deed had been done.
Rachel laughed, never having remembered feeling so light since before the divorce.
By the time her turn came around, she was feeling decidedly less stressed…
Until her turn came.
"Truth or dare, Rach?" Brittany asked with a bright smile.
"I'll be adventurous and take a dare," she said, returning the smile with one of her own.
Everyone had been such great sports about everything. It'd be wrong if she didn't give a little back.
"I dare you to give Quinn sweet lady kisses," Brittany said cheerfully.
Rachel's shoulders tensed. "U-um…. I'm not sure that's such a great-."
"Quinn's been feeling pretty sad lately, though," Brittany frowned, "and Santana tells me that whenever you get sweet lady kisses from someone you like, you get better-."
A majority of the people in the room froze, eyes widening considerably.
"Holy fuck-," Puck muttered.
"Shit-," Mercedes swiveled her gaze to a shell-shocked Quinn who sat with her cheeks turning progressively redder.
"Brit, no!" Quinn hissed, grabbing Brittany's shoulder.
"But Quinn," Brittany continued, "you're so sad… Rachel can make it better. I always feel better when Santana gives me kisses."
"This is different-," Rachel heard Quinn say lowly.
"I don't know if I can do this dare," Rachel said stiffly. "If this is something that-."
"You do it, midget," Santana glared, "or you streak. If I had to do this, you gotsta do it too. You ain't getting' out of it."
Rachel looked down, breathing harshly.
God, this had all been a mistake. A fucking mistake.
She never should've agreed to any of this.
The party, the singing.
None of it.
She should've known it would've ended up this way-.
"Rachel."
A soft hand pulled her chin up. Soft, clear green eyes looked gently to her, warm fingers of Quinn's other hand playing against her shoulder, attempting to clear out the stiffness.
"It'll be okay," Quinn said lowly. "It'll be quick… it'll be painless, I promise… Alright?"
Rachel's shoulders dropped, brown eyes dropping and closing, resigned. She nodded slowly.
She trusted Quinn.
She could do this.
The stream of erratic thoughts were cut from her mind as lips… the softest she'd ever felt, caressed hers warmly.
Rachel's breathing hitched slowly as one of Quinn's hands slowly wrapped around her neck, the other playing softly against Rachel's cheek. The background sound of the Glee club's shocked gasp phased out as a chill shot down Rachel's back.
Rachel's lips tentatively began to move beneath Quinn's, prompting a groan (where did that come from?) from Quinn's throat and an increase in the kiss' vigor.
Sparks shot through Rachel's hazy mind and gathered in her stomach. Her heart ached, strained, and beat furiously against her ribcage. Tan hands lifted to a slight waist, pulling Quinn further against her, curves melding against one another.
God, what was this?
She'd never felt like this before. This… attraction?
There was something here… there was something in this burning, in this spark.
In this touch…
It reminded her of hot Lima days, of sitting on the curb in front of Belleville, waiting for the car to come, of feeling the need to help, the need to embrace someone in need, of hazel eyes and the bitter taste of tears against her tongue…
Of…
Of…
The lips were gone.
She had nothing.
Her eyes fluttered open, shoulders heaving as she took in Quinn above her, staring into her, cutting into her with something inscrutable written across her features, something raw and unspoken.
Rachel's mind was a mess. A mess of alcohol, of memories, of something that tasted bitter yet nostalgic against her tongue.
…Something there.
But God, she couldn't deal with it…
Her mind hurt, her head hurt, and her heart hurt.
She felt broken.
A choked half-sob rose in her throat and bubbled out as she scrambled backwards, away from Quinn and the rest of the Glee club.
"Rachel-," Quinn reached forward, desperation etched across her features.
But God.
Oh Lord, she couldn't.
"I-I can't…" she whispered. She stood up, stumbling back. "I can't….."
"Rachel," she could hear Maria say through the haze.
"I'm sorry… I-I need to go," Rachel stumbled up the stairs, never looking back.
Away from her temporary happiness, away from those God awful feelings…
…Away from Quinn.
She didn't have the strength to deal with this right now.
Rachel feared she never would.
It was Sunday, the day after the Show Choir competition.
She'd gotten up early, pulled on her jeans, a t-shirt, grabbed her wallet, jacket, scarf, shoes, and gotten lost.
Her head hurt from the alcohol. Her heart hurt from what she'd felt… from what she'd done.
She felt like such a mess. Such a wreck.
Rachel walked through the heart of town, hands lost in her pockets and eyes to the pavement. The cold of the morning numbed her cheeks.
God, if only it could numb her soul.
What had she done?
Who had she hurt yesterday?
Quinn…
The name ran through her mind almost as soon as she asked that stupid, infantile question.
She pushed open the door to the local sheet music store that she'd looked up that morning on her phone, hiding under the sheets as Maria opened the door and gently spoken her name.
It wasn't Rick's… but it would do.
Music had always been her escape. Her way out, even for a split second. She could lose herself in a song and pretend the world wasn't there.
…She would do it now.
Her fingers played against the sheet of 'My Man,' which she looked to with a melancholy smile.
She'd owned this sheet music before… in a time that seemed so long ago.
Daddy would place it on the piano's face, his large, strong fingers pressing into the keys as he smiled down with silvery eyes and love in every crevice of his face.
And Rachel would sing for him. She'd sing and laugh and clap her hands in time with his feet on the pedals. She'd lean against him, smell his licorice-y cologne and smile and be happy.
Her hand tightened on the sheet.
She'd been happy once. Totally, incandescently happy.
…What did that feel like?
She couldn't remember anymore.
"A Barbra Streisand piece, hmm?" Someone chuckled, voice deep and rich. "Nice choice."
Rachel's eyes flickered up from the piece and locked onto the stranger, ready to tell him, whoever he was, to leave her alone.
But her mouth dried and her shoulders tensed, squaring her stance.
She knew him.
She knew him, his voice, and that smarmy smile that he'd worn during his performance.
"You're Rachel Berry," the stranger continued with that chilling smile still seated comfortably on his lips. "You were great at the competition yesterday. I haven't heard someone with that special of a voice in a long time."
"You're from Vocal Adrenaline," Rachel said slowly, putting the Barbra Streisand book slowly back down on the stack, tightening her grip on it.
"Senior captain," the man continued, before holding out his hand, deep blue eyes glinting. "Jesse St. James. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rachel Berry."
A/N: All finished…
Now, if you'd be so kind… see the little box at the bottom of the page? The empty one…? If you could leave a little review in there, this author would be very happy…
It'd make my birthday in two days so much better… ;)