"Who's the lucky guy?"
In some sick way this is the beginning. She can hear her heart thrumming in her throat and just a bit, just a bit, she turns to take him in and gives him a smile (it could shatter hearts if she was so bold).
(His heart shatters anyway but he doesn't feel the glass until it's too late.)
"Wouldn't you like to know."
(And fuck, that little look she gives him, like he's a fucking idiot and she's better than him. That look. He wants to wipe it off her face and he wants to fuck her and there are so many things he wants to do but can't, because even especially now doesn't work.)
He gives her a sneer. "I'd love to know who's fucking you, actually."
(She flinches a little. Love. Fuck, as if he's allowed to say that word, and even still her heart thrums and beats like a drum.)
She slams her locker in his face. You're not allowed to say that, she doesn't say, but he smirks at her anyway as if to challenge her. "No one is fucking me."
"Hallelujah," he bites back. "Anyway, Finn gets a boner during math. How long do you think he'd last?"
She stares at him. "It's not Finn."
He moves in closer to make her uncomfortable (beatbeatbeatbeatBEAT) and she looks at him again, a double-take, her eyes cold and icy and her lips pursed at him. He wants to make her scream (again, again, again) until she shouts his name.
"You're damaged goods," he hisses at her.
(She flinches again and he catches it this time.)
"You're a Lima Loser."
That's kind of how it ends that time. He steps back a little (and holds on dearly to did you love me and you're special and romantic) and lets her win. She's good at this. She's good at making him fall to his knees and beg (IloveyouIloveyouQuinnletmeloveyou).
He shakes his head a little, imperceptibly, eyes wandering to the hickey on her neck. Funny how she doesn't seem to care anymore (youcan'ttouchmelikethatdon'tmarkmeyoucan't).
Because no one wants to be seen with him.
(If she was so bold, her gaze could shatter hearts, and he's kind of just realizing she already broke it.)