X
"Let me get this straight," Kurt starts; "you and Quinn ran into Julia, and neither of you thought to call me?"
Rachel barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. She can only imagine what Santana is going to have to say, if Kurt is reacting this way. The lot of them have held onto - completely rational - hatred towards the woman for such a long time, and Rachel knows the only reason she didn't attack Julia is because Quinn was struggling enough with the situation as a whole.
The two of them spent all of Sunday together. Quinn didn't even go to church, choosing rather to spend the day curled up on her couch with Netflix and Rachel.
Despite the circumstances, it was actually a lovely day. They stayed in, cooked together (well, Quinn cooked, and Rachel watched her), watched movies and cuddled. Rachel doesn't think she and Quinn have had that much physical contact before, and her body is still tingling from where Quinn's fingers snuck under the hem of her t-shirt while they slept.
It honestly feels as if they're in a relationship.
Only, none of it is real.
"You and I both know you would have started a fight," Rachel says. "I was saving your precious nails."
Kurt shakes his head, choosing to let that slide. "How is Quinn doing with all of this?"
"She texted this morning," Rachel says. "I can tell she's still conflicted about it, and she's definitely hurting. Yesterday was rough, but I think she's distracting herself with work and school."
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. "This is definitely not what either of you needs right now."
Rachel nods, because that's the truth. "We didn't end it," she confesses. "I - I couldn't, not after that. You should have seen her, Kurt."
"Who?" he asks pointedly. "Quinn, or Julia?"
"God. Both of them." She sips at her iced water, trying to keep calm. "First, Julia didn't believe we were together - which, okay, shut up - but then she had the nerve to make it awkward for everyone at the dinner table with her snarky remarks and general disdain. Denny even had to ask her to leave. Which she didn't even do."
Kurt's eyes widen. "She waited for you?"
"It was so creepy," Rachel says, nodding her head. "Like, leaning against the building, hidden in the shadows, kind of waiting for us creepy."
"Trippy."
"She mentioned something about a promise Quinn made to her about me," she says, frowning slightly. "I guess she didn't expect me to… be gay, I guess."
"But, you're not."
"Julia doesn't have to know that."
Kurt shakes his head. "Rachel," he starts; "would you have ended this arrangement with Quinn if you hadn't seen Julia?"
"Of course."
He waits patiently.
"Probably…"
He frowns.
"… Not."
"I thought as much," Kurt says, almost superiorly. "What am I going to have to say to get you to realise just how serious this is? The longer it goes on; the worse it's going to get." He wants to tell her that she needs to be extra careful, because Quinn's heart is on the line here.
It appears to him that Rachel's is, as well.
"We can't, Kurt," Rachel says. "If you think Julia is insufferable now, then imagine what she'll be like if news got back to her that we broke up the weekend after we saw her again. God, Kurt, we can't. We can't."
Kurt sighs. "I get that," he says; "but that doesn't mean you shouldn't talk about it."
"Talk about what?"
"These… feelings you're having."
"Feelings?"
"For Quinn, Rachel," he says, losing his patience slightly. He's trying to preserve one of the most important relationships in Rachel's life, and he doesn't know how to do that without revealing just how much it's in jeopardy. "You know you have to talk to her. You know this. I don't know why you keep needing me to tell you."
Rachel leans back, deflating considerably.
"It's not fair to her, Rachel," he says. "It's not fair to yourself."
And, really, Rachel already knows the truth of it.
Still, she doesn't know if she'll be able to do what both she and Kurt know she has to.
"There she is," Frankie says the moment Rachel steps into the theatre after her lunch with Kurt.
"Hey," Rachel says, just about managing a smile. She's particularly exhausted, and her heart is a little sore. She knows Kurt is right, and she acknowledges that something definitely has to be done, but messing with her dynamic with Quinn so close to opening night just seems like a terrible idea.
There are far too many of those currently in play.
"What's wrong with you?" Frankie asks.
She shrugs. "We had a bit of a rough weekend," she says, which is something she hesitated to tell him earlier, when he was gushing about how wonderful his evening went with Jasmine.
"Oh?"
She manages to smile at him. "What's going on? You look like you're waiting for me."
He indicates to a spot behind him. "Denny's here," he says. "She was looking for you."
Rachel feels her heart rate rise. Oh no. Could Julia have said something? Is this her last day? Quinn is going to go insane if Julia somehow managed to get Rachel fired.
Santana, too.
And Kurt.
Rachel's sure even Blaine will get in on that action, and completely sober to boot.
Rachel offers Frankie another, barely-there smile, and then walks past him to where Denny is talking to Tom and Elliot.
"There she is," Denny says, the second she spots Rachel, which eases some of her anxiety, because Denny wouldn't be smiling like that if the intention was to get rid of Rachel, surely.
Though, with these theatre types, one can never be too careful.
Rachel just about manages to return Denny's smile, but the older woman must sense her unease, because she immediately pulls her aside, away from the men, and Rachel breathes out a sigh of relief.
"I take it the rest of the weekend didn't go as planned," Denny says, and she sounds sympathetic.
"One could say that," Rachel agrees quietly. "Quinn wasn't exactly happy with the way the evening ended."
"Oh?"
Rachel bites her bottom lip. "It's not really important," she says, not really wanting to tell on Julia for waiting outside for them. It just seems so petty, and Rachel likes to think she's grown from her teenage self.
Still.
She feels as if she owes Quinn. If the two of them decided not to break up over this, then the more that remains quiet about the inner-workings of their relationship; the better.
For whatever reason, Rachel still thinks Denny would understand. If ever Rachel worked up the courage to approach this conversation truthfully and divulge everything, she just knows Denny would be able to help her make sense of everything.
Because, God, Rachel feels as if she's a mess.
She's struggling with what she may or may not be feeling for her best friend, and she doesn't know how she's supposed to navigate this lie they've decided to tell.
There are moments, Rachel acknowledges, when Quinn will look at her, and she feels as if there's nobody else in this great big world that the blonde sees. That's when it feels real. That's when it feels as if the two of them could actually do this whole relationship thing, and all Rachel wants to do is say yes.
Still, she doesn't think she would survive being Quinn's sole focus for extended periods of time. Her gaze is intense, and her touch is intoxicating. They've kissed (pecked, really) twice now, and Rachel is convinced she'll actually die if ever Quinn were to kiss her properly.
Maybe that's what needs to happen.
Maybe, for her to be sure about the potential of a relationship with a woman who happens to be her best friend, she and Quinn need to kiss.
Surely, that will sort out everything.
Rachel will finally know for sure, and she'll be able to take the next steps based on that. All she has to do is find a way to kiss Quinn, and then they're good to go.
Which is where Denny comes in.
"I feel terrible about the way Julia acted on Saturday," Denny says, looking distressed and apologetic. "Tom and I were talking, and we want to invite you and Quinn out to dinner, just the four of us."
Rachel feels her heart start to beat faster, practically thumping against her ribcage. "Oh?"
"Tom wants to talk to her about possibly getting her to write a script," Denny continues, and it looks as if she would roll her eyes if she were a younger woman. "And, well, I'm also growing quite fond of the two of you, and I get the feeling you're going to be a big name in this industry. We need to get in where we can." She punctuates her words with a wink, and Rachel's anxiety rises.
Rachel audibly swallows. "When did you have in mind?"
"When are you free?" Denny asks. "Tom and I are flexible."
"I'll have to check with Quinn," she says, already taking out her phone and shooting a text to Quinn. She cringes at the number of unread texts she has from Santana, and she just knows she's in for it when she gets home.
Maybe she should spend the night at Quinn's again.
It'll probably be safer for everyone. Less chance of a murder that way.
Quinn, thankfully, replies immediately, and Rachel finds herself smiling automatically, the moment her screen lights up with the blonde's name.
Denny also smiles, knowingly and happily. She loves young love, and this particular brand feels simultaneously old, as well. The two of them have obviously been through a lot and, as a person on the outside looking in, she doesn't think she's seen two people more perfect for each other.
Rachel clears her throat. "Quinn says she can do Wednesday or Thursday night," she says, conveying Quinn's message. "I can, too, so you and Tom can decide. We're flexible, either way."
"Why don't I see which night gets us a better reservation, and then I'll get back to you?"
Rachel nods. "That works."
"Will you tell her about Tom's intentions?"
"Probably," Rachel answers truthfully. "It took her a while to believe she has any kind of writing talent, and she still has moments when she doesn't quite believe she has anything worth saying."
It took Rachel and Santana quite some time to convince Quinn that Writing was a feasible career for her when she first arrived at Yale. It took even longer for her to allow them to read any of her work. She's grown into her talent, honing it with praise and practice, and Rachel finds the confidence she exudes now to be entirely disarming.
"She'll get awkward if I don't give her a head's up," Rachel continues. "It's cute, of course, but it could prove to be a strange evening, otherwise."
"She's shy?"
"She's something."
Denny laughs softly, and then sobers slightly. "You two are okay, right?"
Rachel blinks once, twice, and then nods. "We're okay," she says.
"Are you sure?"
And, for the first time, Rachel is the most honest when she says, "No."
"You little shit."
Rachel winces at the harshness in Santana's tone, and she's immensely relieved she's not actually standing in front of her. She's sure she would end up bruised in some capacity.
"Are you ever coming home?"
Rachel glances over her shoulder at where Quinn has just disappeared into her bedroom, giving Rachel the opportunity to talk to her roommate in private. She wants the blonde to come back and save her.
"Of course, I am," Rachel says. "But, umm, I'm spending the night here."
"Why?"
"Quinn asked me to."
"Why?"
"She's about to tell me."
Santana mutters something under her breath that Rachel doesn't catch, and she's certain she doesn't want to know. "Whatever, okay," she says; "just have fun without me or whatever."
"We will," Rachel confirms, and then spins around when she hears Quinn's footsteps, the blonde having changed into more comfortable clothing.
Well, almost changed.
Quinn is still putting on her sweatshirt, her left arm getting stuck somewhere, with her glasses held in her right hand as she takes slow steps into the corridor.
"Rachel," Quinn mumbles, bumping into the wall because her head is barely through the hole. "Help."
Now, Rachel would help. She really, really would, if she weren't frozen in place by the sight of Quinn's abs.
It's not the first time Rachel has seen them, of course. They've had close encounters over the years, and she's been privy to the masterpiece that is Quinn's body.
But.
This is the first time Rachel has seen Quinn's body and… reacted.
"Rach?" Quinn mumbles again, voice muffled. "Are you there?"
"Berry," Santana says into Rachel's ear, and both voices jolt her into action. She steps forward immediately and tugs on Quinn's sweatshirt, helping her get her arm through.
Quinn's head eventually pops out, hair wild and eyes wide. She puffs out a breath, puts on her glasses and then smiles goofily. "Thank you," she says happily, and then saunters off.
"Fucking hell, are you there?" Santana blasts into her ear.
Rachel immediately shifts the phone away, wincing. She needs a moment to compose herself because, God, she's attracted to Quinn.
Aesthetically, Rachel knows Quinn is pretty - she's been repeatedly telling the blonde that for years - and beautiful and just stunning. It's been a quiet admiration until this point because, now, Rachel wants to -
To what?
Rachel puts the phone back to her ear. "Santana," she says.
"What?" the Latina barks.
"I'm in trouble."
Santana sighs. "No shit."
"I - I don't know what to do."
"Why don't you start by coming home?"
Rachel turns around to look at the door leading to Quinn's kitchen, and she can hear the blonde softly singing to herself. "I can't," Rachel whispers into the phone.
"I know."
Rachel sighs helplessly. "I have to go," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That is an amazingly short list."
"Bitch."
"Love you, too, San."
She's met with silence.
Rachel smiles to herself for barely a moment, because she has a really big problem now. Before, Rachel could probably kid herself into thinking this was… nothing. It was Quinn's attention she was craving because she's Quinn Fabray, and Rachel is, well, Rachel.
The teenager in her still marvels that the Head Cheerleader is even her friend.
Her friend, who is as beautiful as they come.
Rachel hasn't managed to recover when Quinn makes her return, carrying a cup of hot chocolate in each hand with an open packet of vegan biscuits hanging from her clenched teeth.
Rachel can't help her laugh at the sight. "Haven't you heard of a serving tray?"
Quinn just shrugs, as she sets the cups on her coffee table, and then drops onto the couch with a huff, the packet of biscuits falling into her lap. "Sit," she says. "I want to talk to you about something."
"What?"
Quinn just pats the couch beside her, and Rachel immediately sits, her heart suddenly beating faster. She's been putting off talking to Quinn about all of this, but maybe Quinn intends to have her own conversation with her.
Rachel takes in a slow breath. "Is something wrong?"
"I received my final contract today," she says. "It's why I didn't get back until now. Jordan and I were discussing how it's all supposed to fit in with the rest of my MFA, my tutoring and graduation."
Rachel can't help her smile, because this Quinn is fascinating.
"Technically, all my coursework has already been completed and, now that my thesis is complete, I can hand in, and be done with it."
"But?"
"I'm Jordan's TA in two of his courses, and my tutor group runs for the rest of the semester, at least."
"So…?"
"We talked about what the best course of action is when it comes to publishing," she says. "I have to hand in the thesis, but it's also going to be published, so it creates a bit of a… logistical nightmare, as it were. How can my novel make money, if it'll be readily available as my published thesis?"
Rachel watches her carefully, sensing that Quinn has something very specific to say.
"I made a decision, while I was with Jordan, that I may or may not regret in the morning."
"Oh?"
"We're not publishing my thesis."
Rachel frowns, clearly not following.
"I mean, the book we're publishing was originally my thesis, but that's no longer happening."
"I don't understand."
"I'm not submitting the novel being published as my thesis," she says, trying to clear up everything. "It can be done, but I'm making the decision not to, because I never could have dreamed I would have the option to publish my work this way."
"I think I get what you're trying to say," Rachel says. "But, I mean, if you're not submitting the work you've been doing, uh, what happens to your degree?"
"I have all the research I've already done, and I've met all the requirements for graduation, bar an actual thesis."
"Which means?"
"Well, I could either submit something I already have written - which, as you know, is a lot - or I could write something completely new, or - "
"Or what?"
"Or, well, I could upgrade to a PhD."
Rachel blinks repeatedly.
"I'm upgrading to a PhD," she confirms. "At the rate I'm going, I could probably finish my Doctorate by the end of 2020, which is way ahead of schedule."
Rachel isn't really sure what to say at this point. What does one say? "That means you're staying in New York?" is what her brain comes up with.
Quinn laughs softly. "I was always going to stay, Rach."
Rachel just nods. "This is a big week for you, isn't it?"
"It is," she confirms. "My entire life is about to change." She sighs. "My novel deals with a topic that's… very difficult, and really dear to my heart, but I can tackle something completely different now. It - it doesn't have to be so personal, because, God, it's taken so much out of me."
That's the part that gets to Rachel, because Quinn hasn't revealed anything about what she's written about. Rachel has asked, of course, but Quinn has always been so hush about the topic.
"When do I get to read it?"
"When it gets published."
"Quinn," she whines. "Please."
Quinn just smiles at her, and then reaches for her hot chocolate. She's silent as she takes a sip, and then hands Rachel the packet of biscuits.
Rachel pouts as she takes the packet. "You're an ass."
"You love me."
And, okay, Rachel probably, definitely, does, but she can't say it's that way.
Or, it is.
The fact that she doesn't know is the only reason Rachel reaches for her own cup of hot chocolate, whispers the word, "I'm really proud of you, Quinn," and then allows them to settle in to watch a pointless movie where she doesn't have to think about Quinn or her feelings for Quinn.
Well, she tries, anyway.
"What am I supposed to wear?"
"It's just dinner, Quinn," Rachel says, rolling her eyes as she puts her key into the door to her apartment, her phone pressed between her shoulder and ear.
"But, these people are important to you," Quinn counters. "Is it, like, fancy dress, or can I get away with slacks and a blouse?"
"The purple one?" Rachel immediately asks. "It looks good on you."
"Fucking hell."
Rachel startles at the voice, her heart jumping into her throat. "Jesus, Santana!" she shrieks.
"Is that Quinn?" Santana asks, looking all for the world like she hasn't just given Rachel a heart attack.
Rachel glares at her where she's lounging on the couch. "You scared me!" she hisses.
"It's not my fault you're so lost in your Quinn-induced haze to notice me sitting right here."
"Rachel?" Quinn murmurs in Rachel's ear. "You still there?"
Rachel closes her eyes for a moment, composing herself and probably failing, because she sounds too tense when she speaks. "Quinn, just wear whatever you think is suitable, and I will pick you up in two hours, okay?"
"Uh, okay."
"Later," she says, already missing the blonde as she hangs up. Rachel sighs as she pulls the phone away from her ear and looks at Santana. "I really don't have time for your antics today," she says.
"Do you ever?" she muses.
"You're supposed to be helping me."
"I can't help someone who refuses to help themselves," Santana counters. "I don't even know what I'm dealing with here, Berry. Why are you in trouble?"
Rachel sighs. "I - I think - " she halts, suddenly unsure.
"Spit it out," Santana says, shifting into an upright position. "What's got you so bent out of shape?"
Rachel moves to sit in one of the armchairs, setting her bag at her feet. "San, have you ever been attracted to Quinn?"
If Santana finds the question odd, she doesn't show it. "You do know I've slept with Q, right?"
Rachel nods, even though she's tried to think about that as little as possible over the years.
"I realise I was pretty drunk and very heartsore at the time, but I wouldn't sleep with someone I wasn't physically attracted to." She takes a breath. "And, let's face it, Fabray is fuck hot. She was hot before, and she's just gotten hotter the more she gets comfortable with exactly who she is."
Rachel is inclined to agree with that, though she probably wouldn't use the adjective 'hot.' It's not that the sentiment is inaccurate; it's that the word doesn't really exist in Rachel's vocabulary. There are so many other, more flattering, ways to describe Quinn's physical appearance.
One thing she and Santana can agree on is that Quinn's personality and general persona make her infinitely more appealing.
Santana takes a breath, not sure she wants to open this particular can of worms. Still, she asks, "are you attracted to Quinn?" She pauses. "Because there's a difference between being attracted to someone and finding someone attractive."
Rachel hasn't really thought about it that way, and having it put like that just confuses her even more.
She doesn't know if anything will make this any clearer for her.
Well, she's still toying with the idea of just kissing Quinn. It would sort out everything, wouldn't it? Everyone would just know, and then they can all just get on with their lives.
Simple.
Only, Rachel knows it's not. She doesn't need Kurt constantly warning her about it, because she knows, the second she crosses that line with Quinn, their relationship will forever be changed.
Rachel can call it whatever she wants: an experiment, practice or curiosity, but it'll just hurt them both. If she's curious, she might have to figure things out with someone else.
Someone who isn't Quinn.
Someone she wouldn't necessarily hurt if she figures out she really is as… straight as she's always been.
"I don't know," Rachel eventually says, sounding defeated. "I don't know."
"It doesn't have to be a big deal," Santana says. "It says nothing about you, either way."
"I'm not gay."
"I know," Santana says. "You're the least gay person I know."
Rachel frowns. "Is that supposed to be an insult?"
"An observation," Santana deadpans. "You're boy-obsessed, Berry. It's difficult not to notice."
Rachel thinks that's another insult, but she doesn't say anything.
"You're not gay," Santana says; "and nobody's asking you to be. It's all an act, remember?" She laughs softly. "Maybe you're just really method, Daniel Day Lewis."
"Maybe," she allows, even though she's not convinced.
"I'll buy you one of those plastic Oscars for your performance," Santana jokes.
Rachel doesn't feel any better.
If anything, she probably has even more to think about, because she's not gay - not even a little bit - and yet she doesn't know if she just finds Quinn attractive or if she's actually attracted to her.
What does that even mean?
"I need to get ready," Rachel says as she gets to her feet.
"And, probably, text Quinn back."
"What?"
"She has to have texted you," she says; "especially after the way you ended the call with her."
Rachel feels a flash of guilt, and it must show on her face because Santana's features soften slightly.
"Just, sort out your shit," Santana says. "Preferably before it gets out of hand."
Rachel thinks they're already past that.
Evidently, so does Santana when she says, "Too late."
Rachel shoots her a glare, and then makes her way to her bedroom. She's exhausted after rehearsals and just dealing with Santana in general, and she's tempted to squeeze in a nap before she has to head to Murray Hill to fetch Quinn in time to meet Tom and Denny for dinner.
Quinn offered just to meet her at the restaurant, but Rachel insisted on fetching her. She needs a moment alone with her before they meet the older couple. She still hasn't mention to Quinn that Tom is interested in her - their - story, and she suspects it's about to blow up in her face.
Well.
Rachel drops her bag onto the floor of her room, and then throws her body onto her bed. She buries her face in her pillows and groans. It's only Thursday, and she can't wait for the weekend… which she hopes she'll get to spend with Quinn.
Quinn has been unnaturally busy this week and, if Rachel didn't spend the nights she did at Quinn's apartment, she probably wouldn't have seen her at all. Rachel suspects Quinn is throwing herself into her work to distract herself from the very real truth that Julia is in New York.
Somewhere.
There are millions of people in this city, and Rachel hopes they never run into her again, even if it's just by accident.
Though, the fact that Julia knows she can probably get to Quinn through Denny does put Rachel a bit on edge. She doesn't know how she's supposed to protect Quinn if Julia decides she wants to 'talk' again.
Everyone knows what that means, and Julia seems to have no boundaries.
Rolling onto her back, Rachel fishes for her phone in her jacket pocket and pulls it out, unsurprised to find two texts from Quinn.
Quinn: I'm not really sure what just happened. Sorry for being a nag, and I hope you're okay. See you later. X
And… who feels like the biggest bitch in the world right now?
Rachel Berry.
Rachel Berry does.
There's another text.
Quinn: I'll wear the purple blouse, just to make you feel better. Will a headband be too much?
Rachel can't even bring herself to reply, because she feels so awful. The last thing she wants to do is make it weird between her and Quinn while she tries to figure out how to deal with her conflicting head and heart and… body.
It's her body that's reacting to Quinn, which is terrifying. Her heart already loves the other woman, but Rachel has never thought she could be aroused by a woman. Not that she's ever been. She just has an unnatural appreciation for Quinn's body.
What she can't seem to shake, though, is the part of her that wants to touch and feel… and kiss. She wants to kiss Quinn, just to see.
Just to know.
She needs to be sure.
Rachel doesn't remember a time she's seen Quinn look more uncertain. The blonde usually pretends well when she's in an uncomfortable position, but Quinn just looks apprehensive and anxious as she stands in the doorway to her own apartment.
"Hey," she says, her brow slightly furrowed.
Rachel fidgets nervously for a moment, and then throws her arms around Quinn's neck, pressing their bodies together tightly enough to hurt. "I'm sorry," she whispers against Quinn's neck.
"I don't know what's happening," Quinn murmurs, sounding confused. "Did I do something?"
"No, honey, no," Rachel immediately says, pulling back enough to be able to meet Quinn's gaze. "I just had a weird day, and I'm sorry I was so dismissive. It's not you."
Quinn still looks disbelieving.
Rachel presses a kiss to her cheek. "We're okay, right?"
"We are, on my end, at least."
"And mine," Rachel confirms. "We're okay." She steps back, releasing the blonde. "You look great, by the way. Purple suits you. It makes you look almost regal."
Quinn rolls her eyes, and some of the awkwardness bleeds out of their interaction. "Come inside," she says. "I just need to grab my coat and purse, and then we can go."
Rachel just watches as Quinn turns and disappears into the apartment, leaving her to take care of herself. Rachel knows this apartment almost as well as she knows her own - she's spent more time here lately, though - and she sometimes likes it here much better.
It feels more like a home, for some reason.
She loves Santana, of course, and they're surprisingly good cohabiters for two people who were once at each other's throats. They've grown, developing a relationship that's strong and true.
Quinn isn't the only person Rachel has gained in the years since high school, but she does feel as if that relationship is more monumental. Being friends with Quinn feels like the be all and end all.
Friends.
Rachel supposes it's not really all they could be. It's not a thought she's really entertained before - not even when Quinn first came out to her - but she's been thinking about it now.
She could see herself in an actual relationship with Quinn. They could be this actual couple, and they could be happy.
The problem, Rachel reasons, is whether or not she wants… every aspect of a lesbian relationship.
She knows she's a liberal, accepting person, and nearly all her closest friends are gay or exist somewhere on the LGBT spectrum, but she's never really considered it for herself. It's not really something that should be considered.
She's never really felt the attraction before, she thinks. Sure, she's been able to appreciate other women's beauty, but she's never been curious. Santana found it incredulous that she actually managed to attend a performing arts school and didn't even experiment.
Rachel did, she argues, and then mentions Brody and the subsequent list of boys that followed that debacle of a relationship.
She experimented with boys.
And then there was Jesse, who came back into her life at what she believed was the right time. He came in as her leading man, and he offered her some form of stability that was still exciting. There was safety to be found in dating him, and she threw herself into the relationship with both feet.
At the time, she liked to think it was kismet; some kind of fate that would have her end up with her first love. They could even be considered high school sweethearts, and it's something she clung to because he fit so snugly into the plan she devised for herself when she was still pubescent.
She held on for far too long.
Even when Quinn started getting serious about Julia, and they stopped spending time together. Even when Santana warned her that Jesse hadn't really changed all that much since high school. Even when Jesse started spending a little too much time with his costar.
Even when -
"You ready to go?" Quinn asks, coming out of her bedroom with her coat hanging over her arm. She frowns at the pensive look on Rachel's face. "Everything okay?"
Before Rachel can assure her that everything is fine, her mouth says, "You didn't like Jesse very much, did you?"
Quinn does a double-take at the sound of the question, her brow furrowing. "What?"
Rachel blinks once, twice, and then says, "Never mind." She turns to start out of the apartment, but Quinn closes the distance between them in three quick strides and grabs a hold of her wrist.
"Rach?" she questions softly.
"It's stupid," Rachel says, shaking her head.
"Rachel," Quinn says, and her tone sounds so serious. "You already know why."
She stares at the blonde's face carefully, not knowing what she's trying to say. There are lots of reasons for Quinn not to like Jesse, stretching all the way back to their sophomore year, but Rachel realises that Quinn has a very specific reason in mind.
Rachel knows, if there was any time to kiss Quinn, now would be it. They're standing so close to each other, she can feel Quinn's breath on her nose. Her gaze is dark and penetrating, and there's an unspoken truth hanging in the air. This moment is charged, and Rachel is scared of it; of what it means.
"Rach," Quinn whispers, a certain wonder in her voice.
All Rachel has to do is lean forward, lift herself up and press their lips together. It's as simple as that and, for a devastating moment, Rachel thinks she could do it.
But, then, her phone is ringing, and the sound is jarring to them both. Rachel sucks in a breath, and then steps back and fishes for her phone to see Denny calling.
Rachel frowns at the screen as she moves to answer it, vaguely aware of Quinn slipping on her coat and ushering her out of the apartment.
"Hello," Rachel answers.
Denny's voice is a little crackly when she speaks. "Rachel?"
"Hi, Denny," Rachel says, smiling slightly when she feels Quinn's hand on the small of her back, leading her down the corridor towards the elevator. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," Denny says. "I'm just calling to let you know we're running a bit late. Our older son, Patrick, got into a fight at basketball practice this afternoon, and we're having a bit of a situation."
Rachel stops walking. "Oh?" she sounds. "Do you want to reschedule?"
"No, no," Denny says, laughing lightly. "You two head on over to the restaurant and get settled under a reservation for Carpenter. We'll see you in a few."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Okay, then," Rachel says. "We'll see you later." She feels slightly unsettled as she hangs up, looking up at Quinn's curious expression. "That was Denny," she says. "They're running a bit late."
"That's okay," Quinn says, smiling a bit. "Maybe we can get the cab to drop us off at Central Park, and then we can take a walk." She pauses. "And talk."
Rachel just nods, pockets her phone and then slips her hand into Quinn's, immediately linking their fingers. It's a practiced action now, and she barely thinks about it anymore.
Well, not until they're in the elevator on the way down to ground floor.
Rachel's palm starts to sweat, and she wants to take her hand back to wipe it on her coat, but that would just draw attention to it.
She's relieved when Quinn eventually drops her hand when they get to the sidewalk so she can hail them a cab. She just stands back and watches, her eyes tracking the blonde's movements with rapt attention. Quinn is just so graceful, elegant in practically everything she does. It's not even fair.
This isn't the first time Rachel has openly admired Quinn, but it's the first time she's allowed herself to analyse what it means, or what it could mean.
Just, none of it is fair.
Quinn glances over her shoulder at Rachel and smiles softly. "Think these cabbies will stop for a pretty girl?" she asks, winking. "Come here," she says; "they'll definitely stop for two."
Rachel blushes at the backhanded compliment, and immediately closes the little space between them. Why were they standing so far apart in the first place again?
Quinn puts an arm around her shoulders when she's close enough, and she settles into her side, tempted to burrow into her. They're good at this, she thinks. The tense moments seem to be forgotten, and they can just hold onto each other while they sort out everything else.
A cab arrives mere seconds later, and they share a laugh as they climb into the backseat. Quinn is quick to tell the driver where they want to go, and then her attention is back on Rachel, the fingers of her left hand absently drawing circles on the brunette's bare knee.
Rachel didn't know she had such a sensitive knee until this moment.
Eventually, Quinn's hand stills, and Rachel feels the weight of it as if it's pressing down on her chest. Everything feels so much heavier now, and she just wants it to stop.
But, she also really doesn't.
Her thoughts and feelings are still conflicted when they get to the park. Quinn quickly pays the driver, and then she's ushering Rachel out of the cab.
Once they're on the sidewalk, Quinn's hand immediately slides into hers, and Rachel feels all the conflict she's feeling slowly melt away.
Quinn really shouldn't be able to have this much power. Rachel is pure putty, and the worst part is that none of this is a new thing. Rachel Berry has always been powerless to Quinn Fabray.
Quinn tugs lightly on her hand, and then they're moving. It's after a full minute of walking in silence that Quinn speaks. "What's going on in that head of yours?" she asks.
Rachel clenches her jaw for a moment. "I don't know," she admits. "It's a lot."
"Anything I can help with?"
"Something tells me you're the only one who can."
Quinn's eyes widen for a beat. "No pressure, huh?"
Rachel just smiles slightly, just knowing there's nowhere in this world she would rather be than here with Quinn.
"Why did you ask me about Jesse?" Quinn asks.
Rachel breathes out slowly. "I guess, after running into your ex, I kind of thought of mine, and how he would react if we were to see him while we're together."
Quinn hums. "He'd probably panic that he 'turned' you gay."
Rachel laughs softly. "He's an idiot."
Quinn sighs. "I didn't like him," she says. "I've never liked him. Even back in high school. He was a tool then, and he's gotten blunter with age."
"You said I already know why you've never liked him," she says, bringing up Quinn's earlier revelation.
"I did, and you do."
"I do?"
"Why didn't you like Julia?" Quinn counters.
"Because she just left y - "
"No," Quinn interrupts. "You never liked her. Ever. Even when we were just roommates, you didn't like her. Before anything even started up with her, you strongly disliked her, and I've never understood why."
And, Rachel hasn't either.
She's never really allowed herself to analyse that entire situation too closely, and she doesn't think now is the time. So, she says, "You know I have a sixth sense about these things, Quinn. I could sense she had a cold, dead heart."
"Why didn't you warn me, then?" Quinn asks, but it's more of a joke.
"All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy," Rachel answers seriously. "You told me she made you happy, and I was never going to stand in the way of that."
Quinn brings her to a stop on the pavement, and turns her so they're facing each other. "You really have no idea, do you?"
Rachel frowns. "What?"
Quinn just shakes her head, mutters something under her breath, and then gets them walking again.
Rachel doesn't move, though, tugging on Quinn's hand to keep her in position. When the blonde turns back to look at her, Rachel reaches up and presses a lingering kiss against her left cheek, her own left hand cupping the other.
"I love you, you know that, right?"
Quinn lets her guard down for a moment, and Rachel is surprised by the flash of pain she sees in those hazel eyes. "I know," Quinn eventually says, smiling sadly. "I love you too, Rachel."
And, as they start walking again, Rachel can't shake the feeling that she's just hurt Quinn in some way.