This is the continuation of Crazy on You. The only reason that it's labeled as a new story is because I wanted to use the fun play on words title :-)
"I seriously fucking hate you, Fabray."
"Oh, what else is new?"
I'm pacing back and forth in the living room, blocking the television screen that Lauren was watching, I didn't mean to but if I was anywhere else, I'd be near her. Lauren showed up ten minutes ago and we've been yelling ever since.
It's been nearly two weeks since we've gotten together, if you can call it that. And we've been down each other's throats; it's not going to work out much longer if we have to keep doing this. It's too hard.
"I don't understand why you guys are fighting," Lauren says from the small couch.
"Shut up, Lauren."
"Don't talk to her like that, Rachel!"
"Don't tell me what to do!"
"You can't just speak to people like you own them."
"Um, I do own her!"
Lauren stands with a huff and crosses her arms around her chest.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You are both going crazy on one another and no one owns me."
I hide my smirk.
She continues, "I don't even understand why you guys are even trying to be friends when you hate each other so much."
"This isn't any of your business."
"Rachel, stop snapping at her. This is between me and you, whatever anger you have is directed towards me, not her. Stop displacing."
"Stop psycho-babble bullshitting me, Fabray. You're a horrible therapist; I'm directing my anger towards both of you."
Lauren sighs and rubs her temples, "I'll be downstairs waiting in the town car. You're both giving me a headache. Quinn, make sure Rachel comes downstairs in five minutes."
"Don't leave me alone with her!"
"Stop acting like a child and you won't need a babysitter."
"Oh come off it, Fabray."
The main door slams shut behind a furious Lauren, she's had to listen to our shouting since she walked in. Luckily, she buzzed before she came up, or else we'd have no idea she was here. We were a little…preoccupied.
"Why don't you make me?" I whisper seductively, I know she's about to start salivating any second now, she loves when I whisper.
Her gaze turns predatory as the silence rings throughout the apartment, Lauren is long gone.
"She could have heard that," Rachel growls as she takes a step towards me.
Now that we're alone, it's a whole different ball game.
She takes a few more steps towards me and I realize that I've done the same.
Her lips crash into mine without another second to spare and my hands immediately go to the back of her thighs to lift her up. The forward motion she already had helped a great deal. She moans into my mouth as I pull her closer to me, the belt of my jeans connecting with her center.
She pulls away breathlessly, placing kisses all over my face, "God, it's getting harder and harder to pretend to hate you."
I seek out her mouth again as I blindly lead her towards the couch, the couch that she insisted be moved into her apartment. Her back hits the cushion and I fall on top of her.
"I know, Rach. Trust me, I know," I breathe into her neck.
She pulls my face up so that she can see my eyes.
"You're not a horrible therapist," she says and I laugh.
I dip down to capture her lips between mine, ten minutes was far too long to be without contact from her, and pretending to argue worked up quite an appetite.
She whimpers as my hand slides under her shirt, resting on her rib cage. I kiss her harder when I feel her fingers on the skin of my lower back. She knows that it absolutely drives me wild when she runs her nails back and forth, teasing me.
"It's only been two weeks," I start but the suction she's creating on my neck halts my words momentarily, "how um, how much longer do we have to do this?"
"We said we'd take it slow."
She starts to kiss my chin, her tongue swirling aimlessly.
"This isn't slow," I slide my hand up further and she hisses as her back arches her body into me.
"You know what I meant."
Her nails dig into the back of my neck and I'm brought down into her. Her lips find mine again, my forehead heavily resting on her own as our noses fit together side by side. I feel her fingers trail from my lower back to my hip and finally coming to my front, teasing the jeans I'm wearing. She's seconds away from getting what she wants. But responsibility kicks in.
"We have to stop," I say, pulling away, only to be pulled back into her.
"Rach, you have therapy," I fight against her lips.
God, she's a hypnotic kisser.
"I'm not going."
I dig deep within me to find any ounce of strength that I can hold onto to stand my ground. My willpower tends to dwindle significantly when she's around me and it's nonexistent when she's moaning underneath me.
I rip my mouth away from her and back up into a straddle, wrestling with her hands as she tries to get a firm grip on me.
"Lauren is downstairs," I remind her, "You have like a minute to get down there."
She whines once she realizes my resilience.
"I don't wanna go," she pouts.
Don't give in, Fabray. You can do it, don't look directly in her eyes or you'll be a goner.
"Don't you want to stop and get some hot chocolate?"
It was her new favorite drink and she's been substituting it for coffee.
"No. I want you."
I bite back the low growl I feel erupting through my body at her words. She knows what they do to me.
She smirks as she sees my struggle. I just signed myself a death sentence. Her hips rise up to meet mine and my eyes roll to the back of my head. At least now I won't have to look her in the eyes.
"Rach, you realize you only have like a handful of sessions to go before the judge drops your charges right?" I manage to finally get out, it took a few times but she got the general gist.
She throws me another seductive smirk, somewhat of a trademark of hers, "I'd rather be a convict."
"I can't date a convict, Rach."
She sits up to the best of her ability and somehow lifts me off of her. Our positions change before I can blink as my back smashes into the opposite arm rest, Rachel's body flush against mine. She's kissing me with such a passion that I've never felt before. This girl is full of tricks, and somehow I don't even think she's making much of an effort. She pulls away and when I finally open my eyes, she's nowhere near the couch.
"That's a little presumptuous, Quinn. Who said anything about us dating?"
God, she's evil.
She's grinning at me with a victorious smile. She wears it a lot.
"You're right," I swallow, "How could I assume we're dating when you tell me you hate me every other day?"
She rolls her eyes playfully as she checks her makeup in the small compact mirror she keeps in her bag. My breathing has slowed down a little now that we have a bit of space between us.
"It's good for you; I can't let you get a big head."
"Yes, because I see how well it turned out for you. Are you going to be able to fit it through the door on your way out?"
I give her a teasing smile and she just chuckles to herself, fluffing her hair up a bit. I get up off the couch, finally sure that my legs won't give out beneath me. It's happened before after being with Rachel.
I walk over to her as she stands near the island next to her kitchen.
"Now Quinn," she holds her pointer finger towards me, "You're displacing your feelings. It's not my fault that you have blue balls."
I raise an eyebrow at her but she ignores it as she puts on her coat. I can tell she's smiling and trying desperately to hide it. It's so her fault and she knows it.
"You just better hope they aren't hotter than you Fabray, or else you'll be in serious trouble," she adds.
"Why's that?" I ask pulling the flaps of her coat closer to me; she has no choice but to follow.
"I have a thing for Therapists," she tells me lowly, "Blonde, sexy, certifiably insane, and moan inducing therapists."
"That's the only other explanation as to why you want to be with me."
It's my turn to roll my eyes, "Oh, that's the only explanation? I guess everything else I love about you doesn't really matter?"
She leans in and I meet her lips, making sure to keep it as innocent as possible, "You love me in spite of my flaws? I'd say you're certifiably insane," she teases.
"What flaws?" I give her a cheesy grin and she leans back in for one last kiss.
"See? That's why I keep you around."
"That's the only reason?" my jaw drops in feigned shock.
"I'll be happy to show you the other things I love about you later?"
"Only if I'm not naked."
I know exactly where her mind is at.
She shrugs, "Your loss."
I stick out my lower lip, I've learned she can't resist it. She laughs heartily and kisses the jutted out lip, "I'm kidding."
I laugh, "Have a good therapy session, go easy on them?"
I know from experience and I'm cringing just thinking about what this guy is about to endure. I hope he doesn't cry easily. She reaches the door and throws it open before stepping into the hallway. She's putting her game face on; the sunglasses are already covering her beautiful eyes.
I hate when she wears them sometimes.
"I'll probably be back in twenty minutes," she calls over her shoulder.
Rachel Berry has always been a complicated human being.
In High School, I couldn't stand her. Perfection came effortlessly to her, while I would strive every single day to obtain it. It wasn't until the middle of my junior year that I realized the reason I couldn't stand her. I was unintentionally enamored by her. Which is a roundabout way of saying that I was kind of in love with her, and it was against my will. It was like I was magnetically attracted to her while my mind desperately tried to convince me that I hated her. It made for quite a confusing argument when all I wanted to do was think about her before I drifted off to sleep. But I hated myself when I'd wake up realizing that I was disappointed that the dreams abruptly ended. It's not like Lima was the ideal place to profess my strange obsession for someone, especially when that someone was a girl. And this is all in hindsight, I didn't even know at the time that the feelings within me went as deep as they did. Senior year, I began to recognize the feeling of jealousy, which escalated into want, and eventually turned into something too far in to deny any longer. I had a serious crush on Rachel Berry. Colossal.
It didn't matter anyway, we were all graduating and Rachel would be off doing bigger and better things. And I was bitter. She'd been accepted into New York University, as a part of their performing arts college. She had applied early decision and had been accepted. She knew where she was going by January of our senior year, not that she already didn't know since she was a child. It had been her dream and she was going to accomplish it.
Meanwhile, I had just sent my college applications out to state schools and had no idea what I wanted out of life. Having a child when you're sixteen kind of puts a new perspective on things.
It was surprisingly easy to convince everyone, including Rachel, that I thought nothing of her. In reality, it crushed me. Not only that it was that easy, but because she didn't deserve any of the harsh treatment I threw at her. She never did anything wrong. She was the target because I'd rather mask my own feelings than let her ever get too close to figure them out. I was a therapist's dream patient; ironically enough.
But she was beautiful, inside and out. She could take my breath away and I wouldn't even need to be in a conversation with her. That's what killed me. That this girl had so much power over me and had no idea. I suppose that it was entirely my fault. In fact, I'm positive that it was my fault. I'd waited way too long to make nice.
It was my last hope, and I needed to use it.
I'd gotten the idea the night before while I was looking through all of my old yearbooks, a sense of nostalgia washing over me as I prepared to graduate in a few short days. In the back of my freshman yearbook, I found a folded up piece of paper with my name on it. It was sort of an anonymous confession from someone, they thought I was beautiful. They didn't have the courage to leave their name, and who knows who it actually was or what would have come from it but I wasn't going to make that same mistake. Rachel was going to know that I regretted every single thing I'd ever done to her. She was going to know what I thought about her. She was going to know that I was in love with her.
Seeing her reaction after finding out that it was me that took her yearbook from her haunted me for weeks, and I almost regretted writing her the letter in the first place. But if I thought that was bad, I had another thing coming. Nothing will ever erase the sight of the tears that cascaded down her face after I told her that I didn't want her to make it in New York. It was dumb. I knew she was leaving the next morning and I was desperate to break her down so she'd second guess herself and maybe not go. My logic was embarrassing.
I spent the rest of that summer sulking and reading her Facebook statuses and updates. She was a rock star and moved on with her life. I had to do the same.
My roommate Kate was constantly out with friends. She'd invite me but I'd normally pass on the opportunities, either because I wasn't in the mood, or because I didn't feel like drinking. She was relentless and eventually succeeded in taking me out to a party with upperclassman. I got drunk. The next thing I know, we're making out on her bed in our dorm room. I felt dirty, and I felt like I was cheating. As much as I told myself that I wasn't still hung up on Rachel Berry, I knew I was. It didn't feel right but it helped me forget the pain in my chest every time I'd see her online and know that I had no right to talk to her. Or when I'd hear a song that she'd sung in glee club. And especially when I'd see someone wearing argyle. Strangely, a lot of people wore argyle.
Kate was a temporary fix but it wasn't anything serious. In fact, the entire first semester, we strictly hooked up when we were drunk. She'd never compare to Rachel, she would never come close. It wasn't until I went home for Christmas break and overheard Rachel gush to Kurt all about her life at school. I was within touching distance of her and I still couldn't act. I would never be good enough for Rachel and I knew I had to change. I had to become something she might be proud of, if I ever wanted a shot at being her friend.
I declared my major at the end of my freshman year and it was a start. I studied my ass off and eventually graduated early. I occasionally checked up on Rachel, she was making a name for herself like I always knew she would.
It wasn't even a question about where I wanted to complete my graduate and doctorate work.
Rachel Berry was impressionable. In her interviews on TV, her pictures on the cover of magazines, even her candid photos in the tabloids. They got your attention. She went from America's sweetheart to an immoral role model in the blink of an eye. She had been right, people could make and break you without batting an eyelash. Her antics weren't her, not the real her anyway. But she still managed to intrigue me. I'm not even sure that there was a hesitation to call the courthouse and propose my office to handle Rachel's case. It was a shot in hell that I couldn't pass up. I had the chance to maybe do something.
I knew the road would be rocky, I knew that she would be resistant and it would take some time for her to open up. I knew that she just needed someone to talk to, someone to not judge her or assume the worst in her.
I never anticipated needing her as much as I do now.
She has no idea how much more in love with her I get every minute I'm with her. I love her fire and her passion, she speaks her mind and she isn't afraid to break a few hearts along the way, she's no bullshit but incredibly charming when she wants to be. And I don't even have to mention that she's breathtakingly beautiful. Like, stunning.
She also doesn't mind letting me know how incredibly pathetic it is that I've been hung up on someone since high school. I don't think she's met herself, because who wouldn't be hung up on Rachel Berry for that long?
I hear keys jingle in the lock of the door and I sit up on the couch, I glance at the clock on the cable box. At least she managed to make an attempt.
"Back so soon?" I ask, sending her an amused smirk.
She tries to hide her smile as she shimmies out of her coat.
"I just really missed you," she answers softly, far too vulnerable for her.
I missed her too. So much.
I worry about her more than I should. She's twenty seven and capable of taking care of herself but it's something that I'll never be able to help. Or apologize for.
She nods and I can tell she's seconds from crying.
She drops onto the couch and her arms are around me, I rub small circles across her back, something that I know soothes her.
"What's the matter?" I ask after I hear her sniffle.
I definitely know something is wrong.
"I told you, I missed you," she mumbles.
I smile to myself, I've somewhat craved those words for years.
"He was so mean and judging," her voice cracks next to my ear.
She sounds innocent, so innocent in fact that I'm wondering if he just started attacking her when she walked into the office. She sounds too broken to have put up a good fight, the kind of fight she loved to give me.
"And his couch hurt my back," she adds.
That sounds more like her.
I laugh into the top of her head and try to pull her back a little, "What did he do?" I ask, swiping the pad of my thumb across her cheekbone, she leans into me some more.
"He asked way too many questions."
I smile at her and begin to run my fingers through her hair, "Sweetheart, that's what therapists normally do."
She sighs out, "He asked me what happened to my last therapist."
My body involuntarily tenses and she can tell. The reason we decided to take it slow was for that reason. It's a tad frowned upon in my profession to see patients. And I'm completely understating it 200%.
"What did you say?"
Her smirk shows, she's so proud of herself, "I told him to go fuck himself."
"Rach," I begin to reprimand, "please don't tell me that you answered all of his questions like that," I level her with a look.
"Fine. I won't tell you that was how I answered all of his questions."
My head drops down and I sigh, she wasn't going to make it easy for anyone she comes across.
"Are you mad at me?" she asks, the softness of her voice catching me off guard once again.
I look up, "Of course not."
I lean forward and place a kiss on her lips to further show that I could never be mad at her.
In truth, I think it's hysterical. I only wish I could have seen it. There's something incredibly sexy about Rachel's fuck everyone attitude.
"I wasn't expecting you to be here when I got back," she says, her voice somewhat mimicking her feelings about coming back and actually not finding me here.
I lean back until I'm resting against the armrest, I pull her with me and she settles into my body between my legs. She drops the back of her head against my chest as we lay on the couch.
"I knew you'd be back pretty soon."
"Am I that predictable?"
"To me, you are."
Her face lights up and she nuzzles closer to me, sighing out when I begin to draw random patterns on her hip.
"What have you been doing while I was gone?"
I laugh into the back of her neck, "Thinking about you."
She whips her head around and laughs, "You're so full of shit."
Ah, there's my girl.
"I actually was, about high school and just, yeah..." I sigh out, "All that."
"Like what?" she asks a little more delicately.
She's obviously intrigued. And I'm pretty sure she's never passed up on an opportunity to hear someone say nice things about her.
She maneuvers herself so that she's facing me now.
"Like how obsessed you were with me in high school? And how you had to go through your whole life struggling with the fact that you were so overwhelmed by how hot I was that you were stunned into silence every time you saw me in the hallways? Was it hard to hear me sing and not show your tears, I imagine that my beautiful voice was something like a teasing lullaby to you, how did you not break down in hysterics every day?"
She raises an eyebrow, waiting for my response.
"Don't ever let someone tell you that you're conceited, Rach."
"I don't," she shrugs, she's entirely serious and it only spurs on a wider smile.
"Let me guess, you tell them to go fuck themselves?"
"How'd you know?" she tilts her head, her tongue trapped between her white teeth. Her taunting smile is childish and playful, she has no idea what she does to me.
"Lucky guess," I muse.
My fingers find their way under her shirt in order to continue my drawings on her lower back. I'm drawing a house, sometimes I wonder if she is picturing the same image that I have in my mind.
"So you were saying? Something about your schoolgirl fantasies of taking me up against the piano after my rendition of one of the mash-ups? I didn't peg you to have a leather fetish, Quinn Fabray."
How she can say things like that with a straight face will continue to puzzle me.
Her fingers are playing with the cross around my neck; she's completely concentrated on it and doesn't realize the fuse she's lit inside my body.
"Actually, it was after you sang with that delusional substitute," I humor her.
She looks up and immediately knows that I'm making fun of her. Not the performance, but the general idea that she thinks I'll actually admit that she was indeed dead on in her first guess.
"When did you decide that you actually liked me?"
Her question catches me off guard.
"College," I answer quickly.
It's not technically a lie.
Okay, maybe it is.
I laugh, "You have no proof, Darling."
Her eyes narrow and she's determined to provide me with some kind of proof. Not that I haven't already provided her with enough evidence to try me in the Supreme Court.
"I know that you helped Finn with my Christmas present senior year."
"He told you?"
He will be punched in the face if I ever see him again. I've done it twice before, third time's a charm.
"No," she smirks.
I roll my eyes, "That wasn't fair."
"Quinn, you wrote I'm in love with you in my yearbook. You're really going to tell me that you decided to actually like me in college? Please."
I open my mouth a few times but no words come out. She's completely got me cornered.
"And what about all of your pillow talk confessions? Extra Credit assignments and secretly serenading me with Bette Midler songs? You were one seriously repressed high school student if you're going to tell me that those things didn't mean anything."
"Okay, I think you've made your point," she smiles triumphantly, "I suppose I started to notice you differently when I was pregnant, but I didn't realize what it was until the beginning of senior year," I admit.
Her eyes light up, "When?"
That was a very good question. When did I actually realize that I like liked Rachel Berry. When I realized all of my feelings from the previous years was actually love.
"You were sitting in the choir room and we were waiting for Mr. Schuester to come in."
She rolls her eyes, "That was every day."
"You were arguing with Kurt and Mercedes about something."
I honestly couldn't remember what they were arguing about, they tended to argue a lot. Especially after Kurt came back to McKinley for senior year, he tended to try and enforce some of the Warblers traditions onto us. I wasn't paying attention to the topic that they chose to argue over that day, it could have been about solos or song selections; it really didn't matter to me.
"And you stormed out."
She has a weird smile on her face, "That was every day, too."
She ducks her head when she realizes how big of a diva she's always been. I laugh and cease my drawing on her back; I press the pads of my fingertips into her and bring her closer. I nudge her chin up with my forehead and she has no choice but to look at me.
"Well that particular day, I watched you go and I realized that the only thing I wanted to do was run after you."
I feel her intake of breath under my fingers before I hear it audibly happen.
"And you did," she whispers, slightly bewildered.
Her eyes run across face, I feel them all over me.
My eyes soften and I nod slowly, "I did."
She looks down and her fingers are back on my cross. I watch her. I know she's back in time right now, thinking about everything that's ever happened between us. There are thousands of things that I did for her that she has no idea even occurred.
This time I wait for her brown orbs to find their way back to mine before I continue. I could sit and observe her for hours and be entirely content with my life. Her long eyelashes are hiding her eyes like a blanket on a winter night.
My features soften when she gazes back up at me, her eyes are glossy, she's fighting to keep her tears at bay and her pulsing neck is working double-time. She's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
She remembers that day as vividly as I do.
"You found me in the auditorium."
I don't even think I gave it a second thought as to where I would find her.
My smile is soft, as I nod silently urging her to continue.
"And we just sat," she blinks a few times and some wetness slides down her cheek, I lean forward a few inches and kiss the small tears that I know she's self conscious about, "For an hour."
I'm completely enthralled with her.
"For an hour," I repeat lowly.
"We didn't talk."
I shake my head back and forth.
I knew that if I opened my mouth, something I wasn't ready for her to hear would come out. That I would probably come out. I was still reeling with the shattering realization that I was pretty much in love with her, too caught up in my own thoughts to provide her with anything inspiring or thoughtful to say.
I sat in the chair directly next to her, silently.
She never made a move to ask me why I was there, she never made a move to get up and leave. We missed the entire glee practice and neither of us found ourselves caring.
Rachel was the first one to stand, peering over me with an unreadable expression on her face.
"Thanks Quinn," she offered me.
I think she knew what I was doing; I was offering her my support. I was letting her know that she wasn't being overdramatic like everyone else tended to say. She was herself and that was okay.
I could only nod as I once again watched her walk away from me, I still found myself wanting to run after her.
"And that's when you were sure?" she asks delicately and it breaks me out of my reverie.
I smile, "That's when I knew for sure."
She leans in and I smile when I once again realize her lips fit perfectly with mine, the tentative and slow kiss doing the talking for us.
She has a smirk on her face when she pulls back.
"And the video camera?"
I exhale exaggeratedly and throw my head back, she giggles as she manages to pull herself up onto my body, I struggle against her as she tries to get me to look at her.
"Stop squirming!" she releases through her laugh.
I stop moving and look up at her, somehow she's covering my body as I'm lying on my back. She's quite good at getting me to do what she wants me to do.
"Are you just going to keep asking me about things that happened in high school now and hope I'll tell you the other side of the story?"
She shrugs, "Probably."
"You can't expect me to not further inquire about all the things you secretly did for me."
"You're right, why would I ever expect that from you?" I tease.
She arches an eyebrow and I feel her hands move lower until they're resting on the sides of my stomach, just under my shirt. She's about to tickle me.
"Okay, okay," I surrender quickly, she's a relentless tickler.
She's rather pleased with herself. Whatever alone time we've had in the past two weeks has been spent learning more about each other, she has enough of my weaknesses memorized to extract whatever she wants out of me.
"First of all, I tried to help Finn shop for you. My patience wore thin within the first 10 minutes and I wanted to throw him down the escalator a few times."
She laughs heartily at this, she hasn't removed her fingers from under my shirt and it's becoming increasingly difficult to focus on the memory. It's hard enough remembering things from eight years ago, Rachel Berry's hands are not helping the cause.
"And then you showed up and accused him of cheating on you."
She laughs harder. It was slightly terrifying how turned on I was when she was yelling at her boyfriend, but I also cut my lip from biting down in order not to break out into laughter. As if I would ever.
"So you didn't make him buy the camera?" she asks.
It seems like she's had her heart set on this little fact for quite some time. It's like I just told an eight year old that there was no tooth-fairy. It's as if her entire existence is based on this being true.
"No," I reply, "I didn't make him buy the camera."
Her face falls even more and I find myself once again biting my lip to the verge of drawing blood. She looks utterly crushed and I know I shouldn't find it funny but she really has no idea.
"I bought it before he came to me."
She picks her head up, she wants to let the smile show through but she's fighting it off, "What are you talking about?"
"I bought it a few days before he asked me to help him; you were talking about it in glee and I thought it was a good idea."
I shake my head, her increasingly wide eyes are making me blush, "You would've never found out it was from me, I was going to just drop it off on your doorstep from an anonymous admirer. I'm sure you would have assumed it was Jacob."
"I can't believe you."
I shrug, "Finn was seriously desperate, I kind of felt bad for him."
"What did he want to get me?"
"Hotdog flavored edible underwear."
She deadpans and her straight face is actually making me laugh harder. It's exactly how I looked when Finn told me.
"That's not funny; I literally would have murdered him."
I'm still laughing, because it's still funny, "I know, which is why I gave him the camera. I knew it was something you wanted."
"I don't understand you, why would you make Finn look like the perfect boyfriend?"
"I knew you wanted him to be that."
"I suppose next you're going to tell me that you were the one telling Finn what to say when we went to dinner?" she chuckles.
I avoid her eyes at all costs. My throat feels like it's in my chest, like I'd just been caught sneaking out of the house in middle school.
"Don't be ridiculous."
Of course my voice has to crack because it wasn't already obvious that I had something to do with it.
"It wasn't a big deal, I just helped him out a bit."
"He wanted to take you to the Waffle House because he had a buy one get one free coupon," I whine, she doesn't understand how horrendous her boyfriend actually was.
She shudders above me.
I continue, "I just gave him a few pointers on what to say."
I bite my lip and nod to the best of my ability.
She narrows her eyes.
"You're lying; tell me everything before I call him."
I groan, "There was a microphone in the flower vase on the table, I was sitting out of eyesight with Lauren Zizes, she was the one that helped us with all the technology stuff."
It took a week for me to make the homemade fried Oreos to her liking. Her list of demands was truly absurd.
She leans back a bit, "So you were spying on me?"
Yes, I should have seen this coming.
"Technically, yeah I guess if you want to put it that way. I was just helping Finn out with conversation techniques."
He was truly horrible at keeping an appropriate conversation. He infuriated me when we were dating and I wasn't even that into him, I couldn't even imagine how annoying it was for someone like Rachel.
"You were the one that said all those things?"
I blush and look down. I don't remember the conversation. It was one of those situations where you're so caught up in the moment that you don't even realize some of the things you're saying. All I remember is some of the strange looks that Lauren was shooting me between bites of her Fettuccine Alfredo.
She leans back further and further. This was not how I imagined this to go, not that I ever thought she'd find out.
"You were the one that told Finn to say that my voice made him lose track of time, that when I looked at him he felt weightless and grounded all at once," she runs a hand through her hair, "That he's never been more in love with someone in his entire life?"
God, how incredibly corny am I?
"I guess," I reply, I'm playing with my hands because I just can't look at her right now.
She backs away completely, sitting up at the opposite end of the couch. I sit up as well.
"How could you do that?"
There's pain behind her voice, she feels betrayed and I'm the cause of it. I feel sick to my stomach.
"I wasn't thinking," I sound as pathetic as I feel.
"Did you even mean them?"
"Are you serious?"
She just stares at me, waiting for my answer.
"Of course I did."
"I feel like the biggest fool," she throws her arms up in the air as she gets off the couch.
"Because he didn't actually say those things to you?"
As much as I think that I know her, I could never know what she's actually thinking.
"Because the person I was with for two years was entirely the wrong person, that's why! You made Finn seem invincible; you knew exactly what to have him say to me. I-I slept with him that night," she chokes out.
Her words hit my heart harder than a freight train would a brick wall; the wind is completely knocked out of me.
"Was there even anything in it for you?"
I refused his offer to pay me, I definitely refused his offer to do my homework for a month, and I certainly refused his offer to set me up with someone on the football team.
"No," I whisper, "You deserved a nice night with someone you loved, I just thought it would make you happy."
"You could have made me happy," she whispers.
"I had a lot of stuff to figure out back then. I would have just hurt you."
She releases a breath; I suppose she's still processing all of it. It was a lot to take in.
"Maybe," she answers, a small smile peeking out through the corner of her lips.
"Are you upset with me?" I ask tentatively, my self esteem dwindles significantly when she's around.
She shakes her head no, "It's kind of cute," she takes a few steps towards me, "You're lucky you make me happy now."
"Is that fact?"
She reaches up, the heels of her feet in the air and places a kiss on my lips, "That's a fact."
I wrap my arms around the small of her back, pulling her into me and lifting her up so that she's straddling my waist. I walk her over to the couch and fall on top of her, she giggles into my cheek.
"I'm glad you finally decided to let me have this couch."
"Yes well, I didn't have much of a choice when you hired a moving company to take it out of my office."
I feel her tiny stomach jiggle slightly as her laugh carries through her body; she's completely thrilled with herself.
"It's like our couch, Quinn."
"I know, Rach."
There's a loud buzz that rings throughout the apartment. Rachel groans below me.
"Of fucking course."
I lean back a little so she can get up, she places a kiss on the corner of my lips before she trots over to the call box.
"What?" Lauren's voice mimics, "I'm coming up, you have some explaining to do."
"Whatever," Rachel says back into the box.
She turns to look at me with a pout on her face. Our cuddle time was cut short once again.
"Somewhere along the line someone put the thought in her head that I had to answer to her," she mumbles.
I smile wide from the couch, "She's just doing her job, I should be reprimanding you as well for blowing off another therapist."
"The guy was a douchebag," she offers easily, it's not even debatable for her. "So," she drawls out, "What do you wanna fight about this time?" she has a twinkle to her eye and I think she somewhat enjoys it.
I wonder if it has anything to do with the fake makeup sex we get to have afterwards.
"You're mad at me because I took the therapist's side."
We noticed that the more civil we are to each other, the longer Lauren will stay around. So we've just started to be mid-fight when she enters the apartment and it doesn't take nearly as long to get rid of her.
She inhales deeply and when she resurfaces there's a scary fire to her eyes and a look of pure determination. I'm terrified.
I arch my eyebrow and set my jaw firmly in place. I'm winning this 'argument'.
"You're all the same!" She shouts at me.
It takes me a second to regain my glare because she's downright adorable when she's angry.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"You're all confident and suave with your wordy questions and deeper meanings. It's not charming; it's an inconvenience to my life at the very least."
The door opens mid sentence and I can see the irritation on Lauren's face, she wouldn't dare let her boss see it and when Rachel turns to look at her the face has disappeared entirely.
"Rachel, the guy was merely asking you generic questions." I counter, softly.
I always get points when I'm the more rational of the two of us.
"All he wanted to do was get in my pants, just like everyone else in this world," she fires back.
It's becoming harder and harder to keep up this charade.
"You're out of your mind," I sigh.
"That's because you drive me crazy!"
We always try to speak in double entendres.
Lauren huffs, "Goodbye," she states before turning around and slipping out of the door that's barely just closed.
"If I drive you so crazy, why haven't you done anything about it yet?"
She holds up her finger and leans towards the door, listening to make sure she's actually gone.
"I think that was a new record," she grins as she turns back around to look at me.
I move to get off the couch and gesture for her to come towards me. She doesn't hesitate and allows me to encircle my arms around her as her head rests on my chest.
"I think you're right."
"I didn't even have to tell you that I hated you this time."
I run my hands up and down her back, she feels cold.
"I wonder how long it's going to take for her to catch on."
She chuckles, "She's smarter than she looks. She knows everything. It's scary."
I place a kiss on the top of her head. We're still standing in the middle of the living room, slightly swaying as we keep our balance.
"Hey, thank you for not storming out on me earlier," I tell her.
She looks up and I see the realization dawn across her face, "I didn't even realize that was an option," she jokes, "The thought never even crossed my mind."
I nibble at her lower lip as her fingernails lazily drag up and down my neck.
"I think I broke you," I whisper against her lips.
"I think you fixed me."