God Gave Me You
Rachel knew it was just one of *those* days by about eight in the morning. So far her day consisted of waking up late after spending all of last night fighting with her boyfriend, Finn, on the phone, falling out of bed, her roommate leaving her no hot water in the shower, and being so late she didn't even have time to make tea before rushing off to class at NYADA.
She slumped in a desk in Broadway History class. There was no need to pay attention; Rachel knew more than the teacher anyway. She stared out the window onto the busy New York street and let out a sigh. Life in the big city was not at all what her day dreams had predicted. People were obnoxious, transportation was repulsive, and Rachel got strange looks when she tried to randomly break out into song.
"Miss Berry! Are you paying attention or day dreaming again?" Snapped Mrs. Humphrey, the professor.
"Paying attention," Rachel muttered.
"Then maybe you'd like to enlighten the rest of us. What year was "Bells Are Ringing" written and who for?"
Rachel yawned. "1956, Judy Holliday."
Mrs. Humphrey blinked and nodded curtly, before returning to her speech about Jule Styne and his work with the show.
*I could use a coffee* she thought, as she yawned.
After her last class of the day, Rachel finally found her way into a little café. "Soy latte, no sugar, to go." She paid for the little foam cup of steaming coffee and picked up. As she turned to leave, she was suddenly thrown to the floor by a strong force. Just before she hit the floor, Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the thud.
But the thud never came. Instead, two firm hands caught her and held her up. Rachel opened one eye and found herself looking into the brightest hazel eyes she had ever seen. She opened the other and saw that it was a guy, around her age. He had dark hair that curled and spilled onto his forehead and stubble, like he hadn't shaved in days.
He was also the most gorgeous guy Rachel had ever seen.
"Shit," he swore. "I'm really sorry. Are you okay?"
"I…um…yeah, I'm fine." Rachel stood up and looked down at what used to be her coffee, but was now just a big brown puddle at her feet.
"Sorry," he apologized again. "I'll buy you a new one."
"That's really not necessary.." she protested.
The guy grinned at her. "I insist. And before we go back and forth doing this whole 'you don't have to' and 'but I want to' thing, you should know that no matter how many times you refuse, I'll still say I want to."
Rachel smiled at him. "Well when you put it like that, thank you…?"
"Blaine," he supplied. "Blaine Anderson."
"Well, thank you, Blaine Anderson."
As Blaine stood in line to buy her another soy latte, Rachel sat down in a booth in the corner of the café. When Blaine sat down and placed the steaming cup in her hands, she smiled gratefully at him.
"So what's your name, Bambi?"
Rachel quirked an eyebrow at him. "Bambi?"
Blaine just grinned. "Big, brown eyes, and not in control of your legs, even when handsome strangers are saving their lives."
Rachel laughed, slightly choking on her coffee. "Handsome? Saving my life? If I remember correctly it was you who put my life in danger in the first place."
Blaine shrugged. "So how about it?"
"Nope. I don't think I'll tell a stranger my name."
Blaine blinked, unfazed. "Then can I get your number? We don't have to be strangers, you know."
"You think I'd be willing to give out my phone number, but not my name. That's cute, Blaine Anderson."
Blaine winked at her. She giggled and grabbed his arm. Just like a teenager again, she grabbed a pen out of her purse and scribble the ten digits on his palm.
Immediately, Blaine pulled out his phone and dialed the number, and after hearing it ring a few times in his ear, "Don't Rain On My Parade" suddenly began playing through Rachel's purse.
Blaine smiled. "Just checking," he muttered. "Now if you'll excuse me, Bambi, I have to get going. I have a performance in twenty minutes and if I'm late again my professor will slit my throat.
Rachel's ears perked up at the word "performance", but Blaine was already leaving. "Bye!" she called after his retreating figure.