A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think. :)


"Well, at least my mom didn't decide she didn't want to know me and then choose somebody else's kid instead."

You can't even react. You know that you're sitting with your mouth dropped open and that tears are starting to sting your eyes, but other than that, you've got nothing.

Worse things have been said to you before, of course, but never like this. Never by Finn.

"That was harsh, Finn," you hear Brittany say, but she sounds farther away than she should, like you're all on a stage and she's being lifted to the catwalk by a wire the crowd can't see. You think that Brittany would giggle at that and say something about being Peter Pan and never growing up.

You know Finn is hurting and angry that you broke up with him, you do. But it doesn't make it hurt any less. He was your first kiss; your first love. He's Finn for god's sake. He might be clueless from time to time, but he's never been mean.

You push yourself to your feet. You will make it out of the choir room without crying. You have to.

You lift your chin so determinedly that you feel your hair flip on your shoulder.

"Mr. Shuester," you're shocked that your voice sounds as steady as it does, but then, you always could pull a performance when you needed to, "I think it might be more profitable today for one of my teammates to act as interim captain. I..." You think you should say that you haven't been feeling well, that you've inadvertently missed an appointment, that you thought you might have seen Jesse St. James in the hallway with a carton of eggs under his arm, but you think better of it and just stumble down the risers to the door and push through it.

You're in the hallway now and you make it a whole row of lockers before the door latches behind you, and you can't hold it in any longer. The tears overwhelm you and you cross your arms over your stomach, exactly at the spot where it feels like you were punched. Your face is contorted and you know you must look awful. It's imperative that you find the nearest bathroom to ride out this breakdown in the solitude of a stall, but you can't move.

You don't know how long you've been there, but you hear the door open and latch again. You don't know who's watching you come apart from the inside out but you can't turn around. It might be Finn and you're positive that you can't look into his face at this moment.

Then, there's someone beside you and you feel the softest fingertips slide down your arm, prying it gently loose and tangling in your own clammy fingers. You look up, startled, and instantly forget how to breathe when you're met with calm hazel eyes.

"Quinn—" You choke on the word, and she says nothing, just tugs on your hand and you have no choice but to follow her.

You stumble blindly behind her; she could be leading you anywhere.

She pulls you through a door and into a room you've never been in and suddenly you're gasping, unable to get enough air into your lungs. You think this must be what hyperventilating feels like and you hope briefly that you don't suffocate. Dying in front of Quinn Fabray would be mortifying.

You blink rapidly and through the tears you can tell she's led you to the Cheerios lounge. It's bigger than the teachers lounge and has a cappuccino maker and – you gasp – a slushie machine. You have a horrible fleeting thought that she's brought you here to land the final blow; there must be some humiliation waiting for you here that the illustrious head cheerleader has devised.

You wait for it, but the only thing that happens is Quinn gently rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb. Your eyebrows furrow and you look down, confused. And then she's pulling you again, and you have no choice but to fall into her arms.

You have been alive sixteen very full years. You have two dads who love you more than anything. You have been in love with Finn Hudson and have made out with Noah Puckerman, both football players and extremely handsome, no one would argue there. You have won several show choir competitions and have performed in New York City and have met one of your idols, Patti Lupone. You've done all of these things, and you feel as though you've had a relatively happy life.

But until this moment, until Quinn Fabray pulls you into her arms, that's all you feel. Until this moment, you've been alive for sixteen years, but you've never really lived.

It happens so slowly, it's like you're watching it unfold right in front of you. Your hand in hers, tugged gently until you stumble forward, her guiding your arms around her waist and then winding her arms around your neck, pulling you close.

Quinn is holding you tightly, making small circles at the base of your neck with her thumbs. It's not possible for you to be upset about anything with her doing that, and before you realize what's happening, you're not crying any more.

You have no idea how long the two of you stand there. Long enough for your sobs to stop racking your body and for the tears to dry on your face without you wiping them.

You hear the door to the lounge open behind you, but you make no move to turn and see who has disturbed your moment with Quinn. All you can think in a blind panic is that this is almost over. You've been here for too long and soon Quinn will let you go and you'll have to go back to not feeling anything.

The cheerleaders (you assume; it's the Cheerios lounge after all, and who else walks around giggling like that?) stall out at the door when Quinn says in a cold voice, "I think you meant to go to the other Cheerios lounge, girls."

"But there isn't another—" You hear the cheerleader's voice die in mid-sentence and you know the exact look on Quinn's face that killed it. You've seen it directed at you a fair number of times.

"You're right. We were looking for the other lounge," another agrees and the door closes, leaving you alone with Quinn once more.

You're surprised when she doesn't let you go.

And now that you've calmed down, you take a moment to examine your situation.

This is not a casual hug. Every inch of the front of your bodies is touching, and you marvel at the sensation of being pressed up against her. She's soft. She's warm. And your arms fit around her waist perfectly. You can feel the soft skin of her shoulders rub yours and you're happy for Cheerios uniforms and also that you wore your ruffled black sleeveless shirt today.

This hug should have turned uncomfortable for both of you a long time ago. That's what you're thinking when you feel her fingers toying lightly with your hair. Your eyes drift closed and you bite your bottom lip.

That's when you realize – she's holding you.

You remember what it used to be like when Finn held you, and you can't help but compare. Not that there's any comparison, really.

Your face smothered in Finn's chest when he hugged you; with Quinn, your chin rests naturally on her shoulder. She's only a few inches taller than you, if that, and you're shocked at how well you fit together.

There's a moment when she shifts slightly, and you frown. You don't want her to let go yet; you want to feel whatever this is for just a moment longer.

But she's not letting you go. She's rubbing your cheek lightly with hers.

She's nuzzling you.

For a split second you tense, expecting her to humiliate you, call you a lesbatron, accuse you for enjoying this too much, punish you for wanting to be close to her.

But when you feel her skin moving against yours and her hot breath on your neck and especially when you smell her hair, you lose yourself all over again, and all you can do is hug her tighter and pray that she doesn't let you go. She feels so good against you, and you've never in your life – not even when you were kissing Finn – had such an intimate moment with another person.

You wonder how she's doing this, creating this connection. It's nothing short of magic.

You can remember you were upset about something but you can't remember what.

You tuck your head, tilt your chin, trying to get closer to her somehow and at some point, she clutches tighter, almost crushing you to her and holding you there. You realize that your lips are on her neck. Your lips are on Quinn Fabray's neck.

Oh god.

All you would have to do at this moment is open your mouth slightly and you'd be kissing her skin.

You wonder what it tastes like; you feel delirious with the thought of it.

You draw a shaky breath and hope that Quinn thinks you're still crying and that it's not because of how aroused you are. But you haven't been crying for a while now. It's been twenty minutes at least.

"Do you want to talk about it," she asks, and you're not sure if she means what happened in the choir room or her holding you for a half an hour in the cheerleaders lounge.

In either case, and for the first time in your life, you definitely don't want to talk about it.

Instead, you decide to risk it.

You open your mouth slightly; press a kiss to her neck. A low moan rumbles in your ear, and you'd give everything you owned to be able to hear it again.

She tastes amazing.

Her hands are no longer toying with your hair, they're full-blown running through it. You feel like you're about to come apart and she's barely touching you.

Now her hands are running circles on your shoulders and she breathes one word into your ear: "More."

You feel your stomach flip at the request.

She wants you to kiss her again.

This is not happening. This cannot be happening.

You swallow, a little in awe at what you're about to do. You wet your lips and press a careful kiss to Quinn's neck and – you swear you can't help yourself – suck a little bit this time.

The moan she makes this time is completely different. It's almost a growl and you become aware of how she's making you feel; you're wet and all she's doing is holding you and making soft sounds in your ear. This is the first time that another person has solicited that reaction from you, and you're a little giddy at the thought that it's Quinn Fabray.

Suddenly, you're overwhelmed with the desire to touch her everywhere.

All you can see, hear, smell is her, and you're in overload.

Now you're aware of Quinn's lips on your skin. Your cheek. Your temple. Your hair. She rubs her nose into your hair and you shiver.

"Okay," you've lost your breath more times in the last half hour than you can count, "maybe we should talk about it."

That draws her back, and she studies your face, finally. You realize that you haven't really looked at each other since she led you in here.

You've known her for how many years? You try to think of a time when you've seen this look on her face before and you don't think you ever have.

"Rachel." Her voice breaks over your name, even though it's only a whisper, and your eyes flutter.

You can't get enough air in your lungs. Your bodies are still touching, and you feel like your skin is humming everywhere. You look from her lips to her eyes to her lips again. You want them. You want her.

"I don't want to hurt any more," you say, and you can tell she doesn't either.

She pulls you back into her again, and you wonder if it's because it's so much easier than looking into your eyes. You don't blame her. You think it's easier too.

"He shouldn't have said that about your mom."

You can't think of anything to say that doesn't make you sound pathetic, so you just focus on committing everything about this moment to memory. Because you know in your heart, when it's over, you won't be getting another one like it.

She's nuzzling again, and you just feel content to stand there and let her.

"Rachel," she whispers again and this time it's like she's trying to wake you up. You smile into her hair. She smells so good. It should be a crime for another person to smell this good.

Finally, you say, "Do you know that feeling of..." You're trying to think of how exactly to say this so she'll know what you mean. You're voice is barely audible and you try to make it louder because you want her to understand. "When you see everyone being happy with someone else and you feel like you're standing outside in the rain looking through a window at them. Like you don't belong there." Your throat suddenly feels like it's filled with cotton. You can't believe you're about to admit this to Quinn Fabray of all people. "And you just want to be happy too. Happy with someone." That started out as a question but you got lost somewhere along the way. Now you're not sure what you were trying to say in the first place, and you pull her closer instead.

The hands tracing circles around your neck come to a stop and you think that maybe you've broken the spell. Then, they're moving again, looping a strand of your hair around and around a finger. You suddenly want to kiss her fingers and maybe even suck them a little and you can feel your face redden at the thought.

The bell rings and it's so loud and foreign in this safe moment that you flinch into her shoulder.

She finally pulls back from you, a whole step, and now you know you've broken the spell, and you sigh. You knew this would happen; it was far too beautiful to last.

At least she's holding your hand.

"Rachel, I have to go to practice. But we definitely need to talk. Can I... come to your house later tonight?" You can't think of anything to say. Quinn Fabray wants to come to your house? To talk? She just spent the last hour holding you and nuzzling your hair and now she wants to talk? You honestly think that maybe you might pass out. When did it get so hot in here? Has it always been so stifling in this room?

You must have nodded because she ducks her head and says, "Yeah?" Yeah, you think. You can come over to my house every day for the rest of our lives if you'll hold me like that again. She smiles softly, and you think she might even look kind of bashful. When in the world have you ever seen Quinn Fabray acting bashful? "Okay, see you tonight," she says without making any move to let go of your hand. And then, softly, "but first... I think... I want... to..."

Her eyes flicker toward your mouth.

She's moving so slowly, and you know what's going to happen. And even though you're watching Quinn Fabray lean into you, her eyes holding tight to your lips until they flutter closed at the last possible moment, there is really no preparation for what happens when you finally feel her lips against yours.

There was nothing before this moment and there will be nothing after.

It's sweet and slow and so very tender that for a minute you think that she might have a twin who got hidden away at birth and somehow broke free from her secret prison and took Quinn's place at McKinley. I mean, this is Quinn Fabray we're talking about here. And she's being so... gentle.

And then Quinn tilts her head just so and it's – ah! – it's simply magical. You experience every lame cliché at once: the fireworks exploding behind your eyes, the soaring symphony, butterflies in your stomach, weak knees. You can't be certain, but you think your foot might even have popped up behind you ever so slightly; it makes you feel like you are in an old musical and you can't help but smile into Quinn's kiss. You're beyond intoxicated when you feel her smiling back.

When she pulls gently away, you're completely stunned.

You feel like you've never been kissed before, really kissed, and Quinn has just pulled you to her and kissed you into life like some kind of perfect prince charming. It's the single most exhilarating experience of your young existence, and you allow your eyes to flutter closed and you sigh appropriately at the romance of it all.

You hear Quinn's soft laugh and your eyes fly open, afraid that this might be the moment for retribution. Instead, you're met with a warm gaze and a lovely smile. She looks... radiant. You've forgotten that she's just spent the better part of an hour doing nothing but holding you and here you are, imagining that she stills wants to humiliate you. You realize that you definitely do need to talk, and suddenly you're simultaneously anticipating and dreading Quinn coming to your house later.

Quinn breaks you out of you reverie by lifting your hand gently to her mouth and brushing her lips softly across your knuckles. You catch your breath at the sight; she looks for a moment like she positively adores you and you think you that certainly you must have imagined that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you still think that she might be playing you, setting you up somehow. This is Quinn Fabray, after all. She's a master at humiliation. But you can still feel the tingle of her lips pressed to yours and you don't care any more. That one kiss was worth every humiliation in the world and you're completely willing to risk everything if it means the slightest chance that she'll kiss you like that again.

"I'll be waiting," you breathe, and she tucks a strand of hair gently behind your ear.

The smile she gives you is enough to steal your breath all over again, and when she kisses the tip of your nose lightly, you can feel yourself beaming back.

She leads you by the hand to the hallway and pulls you though the door.

Everyone in school is in the hallway, laughing and joking, stuffing books into bags, slamming locker doors.

It's time to go home. You pull your backpack onto your shoulder and wonder how long it's going to take for Quinn to finish with practice and come to you.

It's going to be a long night.


Seven forty three, post meridiem. You're in your room, trying to study and failing miserably. Quinn still hasn't come, and she hasn't called. How long can you practice clapping your hands and spelling words out, anyway? Well, with the grade point averages of someof the Cheerios, you concede that it might take several hours to master the complexities of spelling and clapping at the same time.

Seven forty four. Maybe she's not coming. Suddenly, you feel kind of stupid. Of course she's not coming. Quinn Fabray, senior captain of the Cheerios, coming here to Rachel Berry's house. For what? To declare her undying love?

You admit to yourself that you had been hoping for some kind of grand gesture after this afternoon, but really what's the best that could have come from that experience?

She's gained and lost her status at McKinley not once but twice and there's no way she'd throw it away again on a girl like you. Especially not now that you're seniors.

You're determined not to feel sorry for yourself. You had the best day you've had in a long time. You shared a spectacular embrace with Quinn Fabray. She kissed you, for crying out loud! Today was the most magical day in William McKinley history. In Rachel Berry history.

You make up your mind to treasure it forever as the beautiful memory that it was meant to be, at the gift Quinn gave you, and settle in to study. You manage to read a few lines, and you're proud of yourself, but that doesn't stop you from glancing anxiously at the clock.

Seven forty six. You roll your eyes at yourself. So much for self-control.

You're seriously contemplating unplugging your alarm clock from the wall so you can't torture yourself with it any more when you hear the doorbell.

You instantly feel like someone slushied you on the inside.

You're not ready for this. Relax, you tell yourself. Maybe it's not her.

There's a soft knock on your door. Of course it's her.

"Come in," you say, and she does.

You notice immediately that she has showered and changed. She's not wearing her uniform. She's wearing a soft blue sweater and a pair of jeans. Her hair is mussy, and it's not the first time you're grateful that she cut it short last spring. It's almost wild. She looks beautiful.

She stands awkwardly in the doorway. "Hi," she says.

"Hi," you answer.

"Your dad let me in," she says and you nod. You can't think of anything to say to her. Words have never been a problem for you and now, when you need them the most, there's nothing there. "I've never seen your room before," she informs you.

This is not going well. There is no familiarity left over from today's embrace, and you can feel every ounce of your difference in social status at this moment. What did you think would happen? Well, your disappointment is no reason not to have some semblance of graciousness, at any rate.

"Do you want to sit down?" you ask. She closes the door behind her and perches on the edge of your desk chair. She fiddles with the hem of her sweater and suddenly you're hyper aware of the sound of your own breathing, like it's filling up the room, forcing everything else out. You concentrate on trying to make it less obnoxious. "How was practice?" you ask, mostly because you're not sure what else to do.

"It was fine," she says and you're back to looking everywhere but at her. You glance at the clock. You've made it a habit now after hours of waiting for her. Seven fifty. Have you really been sitting here for nearly five minutes saying nothing?

Finally, you huff a sigh. "Quinn, this is silly," you say. "I felt very comfortable with you earlier today – in fact, more comfortable than I think I've ever felt with anyone before. And now we can't even look at each other." You chance a glance at her and are relieved to see her smiling tentatively.

"You felt comfortable with me today?" she asks, and you marvel at how timid she sounds.

"I really did," you tell her. "No one has ever made me feel so safe before."

She's quiet again; she's thinking, but you can tell she has something to say, so you wait. "I liked it," she finally says, and you're happy that you didn't interrupt her. It's the best thing anybody's ever said to you. "I liked taking care of you." Correction. That's the best thing anybody's ever said to you.

You're beaming now. This is impossible. This is beyond impossible. You have no idea what this means for the two of you, but you really don't care.

"I liked it too," you say, and your heart is bursting with the ache to tell her that you want her to kiss you again.

She's holding your gaze now, steadily, and you're not looking away. You're finding so many things in her eyes. They're beautiful and you could look into them all day long. You realize that things are quickly growing comfortable again.

Seven fifty two.

"I've never been kissed like that before," you say quietly, and you can hear her draw in a breath. Maybe it was too soon to bring it up.

Her brow creases. "I've seen you kiss Finn."

You nod. "And Noah," you add. "But it was never like it was with you today."

You wish you could tell what she's thinking. You've laid it all out there; it's up to her now. She holds your heart in her hand and can smash it to bits or make it soar at her will. And all you can do is wait and see which she'll choose.

"Do you really mean that, Rachel?"

Of course you do. You would never lie about something like this.

You didn't realize you were moving until you find yourself sitting on the edge of the bed. She pushes herself off the chair and meets you there.

She's kneeling now, between your knees, tucking your hair behind your ear again. You think she must really have a thing for your hair because every time she's been within arms length, she's had her fingers in it.

You're close enough that you can feel her breath mingling with yours.

"What do you want, Quinn?" You say it softly, pouring as much care into the question as you can, so that she knows that you actually want to know her desires.

"That's... a complicated question, Rach."

You smile then. You can't help it. Quinn called you Rach. "I'm not going anywhere," you say. "Explain it to me?"

She laughs then. "I'm not sure we have time for it all tonight," she says.

Seven fifty five.

You can tell that she's nervous. She's not the only one. You're very close to her right now and the subject between you is heavy.

"Lie down with me?" You know she could say no, but you remember how close she held you in the Cheerios lounge and it gives you courage. You think that talking might be easier if the two of you can have a break from one another's eyes.

Shyly, she nods, and you pull her down with you. You open your arm and she snuggles in, laying her head softly on your shoulder, her hand curled beneath her chin. You try to distract yourself from the fact that her wrist is resting against the outer curve of your breast. This isn't supposed to be sexual. It's supposed to be comforting. You cuddle into her more, and she sighs.

"I'm not completely sure what I want, Rach," she says, and you smile at the nickname again. "I know that I was hurt when Finn said that to you today." You nod, silently encouraging her. Your hand seems to be drawing lazy patterns on her arm and you wonder when that started, but you make no effort to stop it. "And I know that I completely lost track of time when we were in the Cheerios lounge."

"So did I," you confirm.

"Really?" Another nod from you, and she nuzzles tighter into you. "I've been thinking about that kiss all day," she admits softly, and your heart stops for just a moment. That's the absolute best news you've ever heard in your life.

You realize that, now, you're the one holding her and suddenly you feel like you might cry.

"I have too."

She props herself up a bit and gazes down at you. Self-consciously, you lick your lips and see that it draws her attention.

"I've been dying for you to kiss me again," you whisper, and now you have her eyes back on yours. She's nodding slowly and leaning down into you.

You sigh against one another and you wonder if she's thinking the same thing you are – that five hours is much too long a time to go without your lips touching hers. Her hand snakes across your belly and latches to your hip, drawing a moan up your throat. Your hand finds its way into her hair.

You don't realize it but you're pulling at her, and she allows herself to be readjusted so that she's laying half on top of you. You keep your hand working hard in her hair and the other you send down her back. When it reaches the hem of her sweater, you tuck your fingers in and let them caress skin. Quinn moans into your mouth, and you pull her tighter against you. Quinn moaning like that – moaning for you – it just... does something to you. You've never been this turned on in your life.

Oh god, was that her tongue?

She traces your bottom lip with her tongue and it feels unbelievable. You want to feel it again, so you keep your mouth tight against hers, refusing her access. She growls against you and runs her tongue hotly against your lip again, which makes you whimper into her. When she bites your lower lip gently, you're completely unprepared for it. You buck your hips involuntarily, searching for some kind of contact. It's absolutely maddening, what's Quinn is doing to you. She bites again, harder this time, and you gasp. She takes advantage of your open mouth and brushes her tongue more forcefully against your lip. You're groaning uncontrollably now, and when you finally meet her tongue with yours, you see stars. She's pulls herself further on top of you and you want nothing more than for her to grind down on you, but she's keeping your lower bodies well apart. Maybe she realizes what will happen if she initiates that kind of contact.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you're aware of how animalistic and needy this is. Your room is filled with the most erotic sounds and you can't tell any more where hers end and yours begin.

Your hands are everywhere on her back, scratching, rubbing, anything you can do to be touching her; hers are running up and down your sides and over your stomach – you had no idea how erotic it would be for someone to caress your stomach!

No one has ever touched you there before. No one has ever touched you anywhere the way that Quinn has been touching you, not even when you made out with Finn and Puck. They were mostly about grinding and kissing, but Quinn... Quinn has been exploring. She's been driving you crazy inch by inch.

Her hand comes down even lower on the next pass and you realize that she's dangerously close to your butt.

Oh god, if she squeezes your ass, you'll die.

You want her to, yet you don't. It would feel so fucking good, you know it would. You want to feel that. At the same time, you realize that it wouldn't take much at all, with the condition she's worked you into, for you to orgasm right now. And you're not ready for that with her. Not yet.

No one has ever made you feel this good, and you relax into it. You allow yourself to get lost in kissing Quinn and don't pull away until you're both straining for breath and your lips feel slightly ... buzzy.

Eight twenty four.

You've been kissing for a half an hour! And, this just in! Quinn's kisses are officially your favorite thing in the world.

But you know that she came here to talk, not kiss. You run your fingers through her hair, and the face she makes might be the most erotic thing you've ever seen.

You're the one causing Quinn Fabray to bite her lip and shudder out a breath.

"So. What did you want to talk to me about?" you say in your sweetest, most innocent voice and she just stares at you.

"Seriously, Rach?"

You can feel the grin developing on your face like a polaroid, and when it finally comes into focus, Quinn rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"You're going to make me say it, huh?" she asks, and now you're the one biting your lip.

You can't help but trace your fingers on her face, softly. "Please," you whisper, suddenly sure that you must have imagined the afternoon hug, must have dreamt the evening kisses. You need her to tell you. You need her reassurance more than anything. "Please, Quinn. Tell me what you want."

She kisses the tip of your nose like she did in the Cheerios lounge, before she pulled you out of your dream and into the hallway. Her breath is warm and salty, and you're aching for her to kiss you again, but you know that you both need to hear what she's about to say.

"Rachel," she says, and you're hanging on every word, "I'm not... a hundred percent sure what I want. I care about you. A lot. I have for a long time." She's searching your eyes, and you hope she can read the emotions there that will show her that it's okay. That you want her too. Her eyes drift to your lips again and then she's laughing – you can feel her breasts against your own and you fight to keep your eyes from falling closed in arousal.

"What's so funny?" You know that you sound more annoyed than you really are and when Quinn only laughs harder, you know that she gets it. She gets you and that's something that certainly sets her apart from most everyone else in your life.

"I can't help it," she says, "you're like this ridiculous magnet, Rach. Every time I'm anywhere near you, all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you." She pushes herself up off of you, and you press your hands against her back, pulling her back.

"Don't pull away, Quinn." You're desperate to keep her.

She laughs again. "We're trying to have a serious discussion and your lips keep hijacking my train of thought," she says but she allows herself to be pulled back down and settles more fully on top of you. You can feel every curve of her breasts now, and they feel so good against you.

Her eyes are roaming your face and you can't help but think that she's looking for something she's never seen before. You feel open to her, laid bare, but you don't try to hide yourself from her. It's the most vulnerable you've ever felt, but you wouldn't trade it for anything. She's holding you here, keeping you grounded with her own body. You can't float away. You're perfectly safe.

"Stay the night," you ask before you can stop yourself, and her eyebrows lift higher than you've ever seen them.

"I'm sorry?"

You roll your eyes at how shocked she looks. "Quinn we just started kissing. I'm not asking for sex. Not yet," you add as an afterthought, and you think she might be blushing. "I just think we have some things to talk about and I..." You swallow. Are you sure you really want to admit this? "I kind of have this fantasy of just... kissing you all night."

Now you know she's blushing.

"You want to kiss me all night?" she asks and, apparently, there's enough blush in the world to go around for both of you.

You force yourself to try and sound flirtatious. "Think you're up for it?" You know that you just sound small and scared.

She quirks her eyebrow at you and you wish for the millionth time that you could do it back. You love that look on her. It's hot.

She holds your gaze for a moment and then finally nods. "Oh, I'm definitely up for it." Gosh, that sounds sexy. "Just let me just call my mom, okay? Don't go anywhere." She kisses your nose and pushes off the bed, and you wonder if that nose kiss is going to be a thing between you now. You hope so.

Quinn is in the hallway talking softly on the phone, and you stretch lazily on your back, staring at the ceiling.

You grin because you finally understand. This is the beginning of something breathtaking and alarming and beautiful.

You've finally found someone who makes sense with you, and you promise yourself that no matter how long Quinn chooses to be in your life, you will always make her feel special and adored. However long Quinn lets this last between you, you're going to enjoy it.

And when she finally falls back onto the bed and nestles herself in your arms, her fingers winding into your hair for the hundredth time today, you grin from ear to ear because you haven't felt this happy in a long time.