End of the World
So, I get that it's been a while since the last chapter was published, and I'm really, really sorry about that, but things have been crazy. I moved house, and so I had to pack up all my things, and then, at the other end, I had to unpack all my things. Unpacking my shoes took up three and a half hours. No joke. And on top of that I've had a tonne of work to do and I'm also planning a party and trying to buy even more shoes...
...but this chapter will totally be worth it.
January 26, 2009
Rachel was almost tearing her hair out in frustration. She had tried on every outfit she possessed in the last half an hour, and nothing. She was just beginning to realise how many of her garments had argyle on them. She wished she were a cheerleader. It was easy for them. They could just wear their uniforms, every day. They didn't understand what it was like for normal people, people like Rachel, who spent every morning standing in front of the wardrobe trying to find something socially acceptable.
Most weeks, Rachel found a way around this. Every Sunday night after dance lessons, she retired to her bedroom and set out an outfit for every day of the next week, and hung them up in order. According to her wardrobe, today's outfit was a maroon argyle skirt and a black sweater with a dog on it. Although it was one of her favorite outfits, it didn't seem quite right for going over to the head cheerleader's house.
It wasn't like Rachel was trying to impress Quinn, or anything. It wasn't like she'd spent the whole day hoping that Quinn might have invited her over, under the pretence of helping her with the scene, to confess her feelings for Rachel. It wasn't like Rachel had borrowed tight, sexy clothes from her friends so that Quinn would be looking at her. She just liked looking nice, that was all, she told herself as she rang the doorbell of the large whitewashed house on the outskirts of Lima.
The door opened, but it was not Quinn standing on the other side. It was an older woman, blonde like Quinn, and with the same heart-shaped face - her mother. She would have been very pretty, but the expression on her face was as though she were looking at horse manure.
"We're not interested, thank you," she said in a clipped tone, "and would you kindly not call at our house again,"
Rachel was confused. "Wait!" she called as the woman made to slam the door in her face, "I'm here to see Quinn."
"Quinn?" she asked in disbelief, "You're not a friend of hers, are you?"
Had the circumstances been any different, Rachel might have lied and said yes, but the expression on her mother's face said quite clearly that she did not want her daughter mixing with anyone like Rachel. And the last thing Rachel wanted was to get Quinn into trouble, so she told the truth.
"We're not friends, we're just in the play together. We're going over lines."
Quinn's mother evidently did not trust herself to reply. She turned away from the door and called up the stairs.
"Quinn! There's someone here to see you!"
As Quinn's feet pattered down the stairs, she said in a quieter voice which Rachel, with her excellent hearing, still managed to catch, "she looks a bit like a prostitute."
But Rachel had no time to dwell on the hurtfulness of these words, because Quinn had just come into sight. It was the first time Rachel had seen her out of her uniform. Her long, silky hair was loose over a soft, modest black jersey dress that fell to just above her knees. Her breasts, usually squashed by her cheerleading uniform, were perfectly round and even below the high neckline. She had bare feet and no make-up, and she wore an expression identical to her mother's.
"Upstairs," she barked, jerking her head in the direction of the first floor landing. Rachel climbed the stairs in silence, and followed Quinn into her bedroom.
"What the hell are you wearing?" screeched the blonde. Rachel's cheeks flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure - Quinn was even more gorgeous when she was angry.
"I just... wanted to look nice," she murmured ashamedly.
"For what?" Quinn had perfected her condescending voice, "It's not like I have an older brother or there are guys here, or anything. Just... change into something from my wardrobe." She gestured to a pair of double doors on the other side of the room. Hiding her face, Rachel scurried over to them and pulled them open.
Five minutes later, Rachel emerged from the walk-in wardrobe wearing a pair of plain jeans and a blue plaid shirt.
"See," remarked Quinn, "you look so much prettier now. You should think about investing in similar items for your own wardrobe."
But Rachel didn't even hear the second sentence. The moment Quinn had called her pretty, her spirits rose until she was sure she could fly out of the window if she'd wanted.
"Shall we... run the scene now?" Rachel asked nervously.
"Sure. Unless there's anything you wanted to talk to me about?"
Rachel's heart started to beat faster. Did the blonde know something?
"About your family, that is. You said you had problems."
Rachel's heart sank. "No, things... haven't been so bad today, actually. Let's run the scene."
Quinn smiled and nodded, and sat down on the bed. After a moment in which she realised that Rachel had no intention of following suit, she took her arm and yanked her down.
The ache that had been settling between Rachel's legs all day seemed to multiply by ten at the connection of their skin, until she was quite sure that unless she stopped looking at Quinn's body, she would come any moment.
Quinn obviously hadn't noticed Rachel's discomfort. "Do you have your script with you?" she asked, "or do you need to share mine?"
Rachel didn't dare open her mouth, but she had to say something.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she blurted in the space of a second.
"Right across the hall," replied Quinn lazily, laying back on the bed as Rachel dashed from the room and through the opposite door, trying to hold it in for a few moments longer. She forced the jeans she was wearing down - they were a little tight - followed by her soaking panties, and moaned with delight as her fingers found her sensitive spot and circled it as quickly as they could. She sank down to the floor, unable to see or think properly about anything. She imagined Quinn doing the same thing next to her and the image of her contorted face made Rachel's body freeze up and go rigid as she cried out... but something was wrong. Her cries were mixed with another voice - a voice that was coming from behind her.
"Rachel, what the hell?"